Blasé sat on the Greyhound bus going to Pennsylvania; she'd been on it for hours and had hours more to go but she didn't mind. Her anger kept her fueled. She knew what she had to do and didn't care what happened to her because of it.

Blasé itched the stiches under her shirt and the one ones on her face; people had looked at her at first but by now she was no longer interesting.

As she sat their Blasé thought back to the conversation she had had with Dean.

"What happened between you and your Uncle?"

"Nothing." Blasé said, avoiding his eyes.

"You don't have to lie. It's okay."

"It's not okay and I don't wanna talk about it."

"You need to talk about it." Dean said.

"Why?"

"You can't keep all that crap inside of you."

"Dean…what can I say? My Uncle was a perv who touched me."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"When I was a kid he told me he'd kill my Mom; afterwards it was just – too late. I lived with him and I had no place else to go."

"Couldn't your sisters Dad take you?"

"Ha, he hated me. He taught them to hate me. He told them to blame me for our Mom's death."

"I'm sorry this happened to you."

"Don't be. Chris will pay for what he did. I'll make sure of that." Blasé said hardness in her voice. Turning away she signaled the end of the conversation. Over the next few days as she healed up she planned on what she'd do.

Chris would never hurt anyone else again.

It was late when the bus stopped; she went straight from the bus station to Chris's house, peaking through the window she saw him. Sitting on the couch, a beer in one hand a cigarette in the other. He was watching a sports game.

Walking to the front door she knocked and waited.

"Who the fuck is bothering me? Blasé?"

"Can I come in?"

"Why are you here?"

"I don't like my Dad and Uncle. They're horrible. I want to come back, please. I'll be good."

"Why would I let you back in."

"You know why." Blasé said, softly.

"Come on." Chris said, stepping in.

Blasé locked the door behind her and turned to face him, pulling the gun out.

"What are you doing?"

"You really think I'd ever come back to you? Are you that stupid?"

"Get out; you're crazy."

"No, you are. And you did horrible things to me. I'll never be normal because of you. Never. And you have to pay."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Chris said, backing away.

"I am too, but I won't be any more."

She pulled the trigger. Again and again until the clip was empty.

"Don't worry; I won't tell our secret. No one will no." Blasé said over him. "I love you Uncle Chris."

Walking out of the house, Blasé suspected it would be a few days at least before anyone noticed. Chris didn't have a lot of visitors.

Even though it was late; Blasé knew where to go next. Her sisters.

She watched through the window for a few minutes; they were sitting on the couch watching TV. Laughing and joking with their Dad.

They were happy.

Blasé walked around and knocked on the door; Eric answered.

"What are you doing here?"

"I want to talk to my sisters."

"They are not your sisters." Eric said.

"Why? Why where you so mean to me? Why did you make them hate me? What did I do to you?"

"Your Mom and I would have been happy. With our girls. But you were there. All the time. Taking the attention that you didn't deserve."

"I was her daughter."

"You where her mistake." Eric said.

"I was a child and you made me feel horrible. Made me hate myself. Made my sisters hate me."

"Who's there?" One of them asked, walking over. "Blasé."

"I just wanted you to know. I'm happy now. I have a Dad and he loves me. I have an Uncle who loves me. I have a life and I'm strong and I'm smart – and you where will never know the truth. You always be ignorant."

"You killed our mother." She said. "We want nothing to do with you."

"But you'll never forget me. Someday when you grow up and realize how cruel you where – you'll hate yourself."

"Just go away." The other one said, standing beside her sister.

"Gladly."

Blasé walked away – she could hear the door close behind her but she didn't care. As she walked back to the bus stop – ready to call Dean and Sam – she heard the very familiar sound of a car, the engine purring.

"What do you think you're doing just running off?" Dean snapped.

"I had stuff to take care of." Blasé said, opening the back door.

"What kind of stuff?"

"Family stuff." Blasé said, looking out the window.

"What did you do Blasé?" Sam asked, quietly.

"I righted a wrong." Blasé said, simply.

As they drove through town they passed Blasé's Uncle's house the smell of smoke lingered in the air – the flames could be seen.

"Should we call the police? Isn't that your Uncle's house?"

"Huh, I always told Chris not to smoke." Blasé commented, idly. "Better this way I guess."

"What. Did. You. Do." Dean ordered.

"I shot him, Repeatedly. I had to though – he had to be punished – I wasn't going to let him hurt anyone else." Blasé said, hating the tears that felt hot in her eyes. "Just drive – okay? Just drive."

Dean's face was steely with anger but he said nothing.

"This isn't over." Dean said, looking at Blasé in the rear-view mirror.

"But it is." Blasé whispered to herself, looking at the smoke in the sky.