Dean had a difficult time maneuvering along the dark, twisted path once we veered off the interstate and entered the pitch blackness of the woods. Every time the tires hit a bump, root, or other unseen object, it took all I had not to jump. As good as a driver Dean is, even he couldn't predict the twists and turns of the path, none of us could. I soon saw why the road had been closed years ago. We ended up ditching the Impala in what seemed to be the ideal place, where the moonlight shined enough for the rims to give off a low glow.

"So how do you plan to find the shack?" Dean asked, irritation in his voice. I knew he was tired from driving straight through, and that bothered me, but I had to let it go.

"Flashlights," I said with a shrug.

"But there's so many places it could be," Dean complained.

"Yeah, well, if I follow the picture, I'll find it," I said, slinging the backpack over my shoulder, my fingers twitching where my prized black Desert Eagle MK I - .357 Magnum, which was in easy access at all times, loading with rock-salt filled shells. Though one of my favorites, it wasn't my first choice in a fight. I'd much rather use one of my various knives, but they weren't always as effective.

I flicked on a flashlight and tossed another to Sam, who was to my right. Dean stayed alert at my left, his face masking any and all emotion. We made our way north, or at least, what looked and felt like north. Carefully avoiding roots and rocks, we managed to make it into the clearing without falling on our faces. Which was harder than in looked when you're head feels like it's going to explode. The closer we got, the more I began to question my decision on having both brothers with me. Sam's face showed signs of pain, and Dean's was paler than it was moments before, but they were strong, and had literally been to hell and back for each other, so they'd keep it together.

I stopped in the middle of the clearing and pulled out the photo. With shaking hands, I shined the light to it, reading the numbers one final time. I turned counterclockwise until I saw the ancient, downed oak.

It was a long, tedious trek. Every time we got turned around or I miscounted a step, we'd have to go back to the middle of the lot and start over. After about three hours, we finally found what we were looking for, an ancient, abandoned shack, two stories high with what looked like a full access basement. To my own surprise, there were angel banishing sigils on the walls. Whoever was held up there knew about not only the existence of angels ,but probably our alliance with Castiel.

"Shit," I muttered. There went the thought of calling Cas if things went south. "Okay. Stick together," I said, taking charge of the situation. If anyone died tonight, it'd be on my head and my head alone.

We circled the shack, looking for any signs that might tip us off. Of course, there were none, other than the sigils and the fact that I was absolutely positive that this was the place.

"So let me get this straight, we're going to go in, try to exorcise your brother and then what?" Dean asked, an expression of pain on his face.

"Get out alive," I said simply. My stomach was doing flips and I felt ready to collapse, but my will to save my brother was more overpowering than any demonic thing.

We found the door to the basement easily. It wasn't hidden or anything, but it was padlocked with a thick lock that looked near impossible to pick. Covering Sam, Dean and I scanned the trees for any trouble while Sam picked the lock with sure fingers. Leave it to Sam.

Once we heard the lock click open, we were more than ready to press forward.

"Wait," I said suddenly, a thought hitting me.

"What?" Sam groaned. He, just like the rest of us, were overly eager for the night to be over already.

"I just thought of something," I said, shaking my head. "We're going in, with good faith in this box, that I've never actually opened before, that I don't even really know how to open."

"It was your plan," Sam pointed out.

"Right, but we never came up with a plan S.O.S," I retorted.

"You think we'll need one?" Dean asked, giving me a look.

"Well, yeah," I said with a shrug. I was feeling like absolute shit, but it wasn't going to stop me from pushing forward. "If we get in there, and things go south..."

"What's the plan?" Sam asked. I saw his hands twitch, his eyes flashing with an emotion I didn't catch.

"Give me Ruby's knife," I started, silencing them before they could cut me off. "I'm going to finish this, one way or another, but I'm not about to lose anyone today. I'm not going to let either of you get yourselves k-," I started, but Sam doubling over in pain stopped me. I reached for him at the same time Dean did, resulting in an awkward exchange of curses. His head in his hands, Sam started saying something I didn't understand. I could speak and read Latin clear as day, but translating on the spot was my not specialty. That was Bobby or Sam. Instead, I snatched the phone from my pocket and turned it on to record, holding it close to Sam's mouth, while Dean held him upright. He kept repeating the same lines, over and over, until his eyes went blank, his knees buckling. He fell heavily, his weight pushing me over. Cursing, I scrambled to my feet before kneeling next to him.

"C'mon Sam, we need you here, with us," I coaxed him back to reality. His eyes opened and he let out a groan, before righting himself.

"Well that sure as hell wasn't normal," Dean grumbled.

"I know," I muttered, listening to the recording again, trying to figure out what it could mean. I leaned against the side of the shack, suddenly unsure about my plan. I was not only risking my own life this time, or even just the lives of my baby brother and myself, but the lives of the two men who have saved me time and time again. The two guys who have been there through most of my life, from my first death, to my first kill, my first real taste of hell. Was I ready to sacrifice that much, for a plan I wasn't even sure about?

"Listen..." I started, this time feeling the tears welling in my eyes. "If anything, and I mean anything, goes off the plan, get out. Don't think, just go," I said softly. Dean handed me Ruby's knife without question, either trusting my motives, or just willing to do anything that would make the case easier. I slid it into my pocket, my fingers lingering on the handle. Should I have to use the knife, I just might shed blood of my own.

We took a few more moments to etch out the last of the details, before quietly opening the door. I was going down first, mainly because in comparison to either of the guys, I was the smallest and easiest to hide. We had to play our cards right, or risk getting caught before we had a chance to see what we were up against.

Staying close to the wall, I slowly made my way forward, staying as quiet as humanly possible. The waves of nausea came closer and closer together, leaving my breathless and weak, swallowing bile after bile, my throat on fire. I had to stop in the shadows at one point, just to stop my body from shaking with chills. Whatever we were facing, it radiated with a sickening scent, feel, and anything else.

I stopped at the corner, light cascading from beyond it. I took the chance to kneel down, both because I was growing weaker by the moment, and because I had to text Sam.

They're in the back, be quiet, but come on, I sent the text and prayed it went through. Dizzily, I leaned against the wall and listened, both for the sounds of the guys approaching, and to see if I could hear anything from beyond. To my surprise, I could.

"How far do you think they'll make it before they keel over just like you did?" someone taunted. I heard a muffled cry, my heart leaping into my throat when I realized it was Cade. "What's that? You don't think she'll come? Oh, but she will, she will. It's her way," it continued. "And when she does, you won't be human enough to remember her," it finished with a bitter, spine-tingling cackle.

"Why must you always toy with your food?" a familiar voice scolded. The voice sounded like that of my mother.

"M-" I went to say, but a strong hand clamped over my mouth, an arm locking around my waist, keeping me where I was, silent.

"Because, they're so much sweeter when they're terrified," the other voice giggled. The thing actually freaking giggled.

"True," the thing inside my mother agreed. I heard what sounded like someone taking a deep breath, smelling something. "They're close," it added with a laugh of delight.

"Shall we?" the other thing asked.

"No, no, let them come in their own time. The longer they wait, the weaker they'll become," it replied with pure delight.

I glanced over at Dean, who stood a few feet back, ready to be the one covering Sam and I. His face was so pale that the glow from my flashlight made him glow. I felt concern welling in my chest, that undying, overly concerned feeling that could stop me dead in my tracks.

Here's something you should know. I don't feel strongly about anyone other than my brother. I won't think twice about throwing someone in front of me in it means getting my brother out alive. It's a bad trait to have, but it's just me. I have watched almost everyone I've ever cared about die in front of my very eyes, and I stopped caring long ago. But in that moment, I felt an unwavering yearning to protect Sam and Dean both, as if they were my own flesh and blood. I knew from experience, that such emotions would cloud any judgment and would make it nearly impossible to focus. I took a deep, much needed breath and held it, letting it ease the tension from my bones and settle the gurgling on my stomach.

I made the first move. I wasn't supposed to be the one stepping out first, that was supposed to be Dean, but since I was feeling way too protective of the man, I walked out, without a weapon drawn, with only the box in my hands.

"Oh, you came," the thing inside my mother cooed. "Good to finally see you, Harley, dear."

"Shove it," I growled. Sam was right behind me, towering over my short frame, Latin words already pouring out of his mouth, his eyes locked on my mother. With a quick flick of her wrist, he was pinned against the wall, struggling to spit the words out.

"Now, now, play fair," she cooed, her eyes locking on me. Dean was circling the boxes, hidden by the shadows. The other man in the room was starting towards me, his eyes as orange as fire. I knew right then, that we weren't up against your typical demons. At least not that thing anyway.

I held the box away from me, the clear strings holding it firmly to my hands. It'd take a lot to rip it away from me. I concentrated, letting all sounds, all taunts, all cries for help be masked by the task of opening the box, saying the right words, saving the people I cared about.

But the words couldn't come fast enough. My concentration was broken when I heard the bloodcurdling cry of pain ahead of me. I smelled the blood long before I saw it. I saw his body twist from pain, his eyes widen, then stair blankly. A look that would haunt me the rest of my life. I heard the chair fall over, saw his hair flip as he head fell to the side, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

And I howled. Like a wounded animal, I howled.