Sam paced. Buffy watched. It had been going on for about an hour now. Every once in a while they'd come to a stalemate…then back track.

Another argument circled, like a shark. "I do not understand your anxiety over this."

Sam let loose an exaggerated breath. "Because I'm not risking you. Not for anything."

Buffy's jaw clenched, her eyes drilling into him. Gods the woman was stubborn! She'd been bemoaning about venturing solo into the Suicide Forest for days now, insisting she would immune to its thrall. "You wouldn't be risking anything. I'm the slayer. That place has no hold over me."

"You can't know that." Sam pinched his temples. "No. The answer is no."

Buffy stood, crossing to him. She used her strength to pry his hands away from his face and gripped them so he couldn't break free. His bones felt crushed, but he allowed the harsh contact. "Sam, stop it. You cannot control me. Or my choices. You knew this when we met. I'd never come between you and a hunt. I expect you to not come between me and a mission."

"We are supposed to be in his together."

She gave a small, yet clearly upset, false smile. "I'd be happy for you to accompany me. But from what Dean said, the place has a strange effect on people."

Sam ground his molars, upset now. "Stop putting yourself in the untouchable realm. You bleed, same as me. You have demon blood coursing through you, same as me. What makes you think you won't be affected and I will?"

"Then come! But do not bubble wrap me in the process and expect to leave me behind on your mantel!" Hands on hips, Buffy glared. She'd reached the octave; a phenomenon he had come to know as the "cut your losses before it's too late" tone.

All the same, he forged forward, risking it all. "I don't think it's a good idea, Buffy. Just the thought of losing you makes me crazy. I can't think clearly. This isn't a fair fight."

She turned from him, jaw off-set in frustration. When she whipped back around her arms flailed out in mock surrender. "When you stayed in Sunnydale, how did you think this was going to go down? You and me?"

Sam's heart lurched painfully at her insinuated words. "What are you getting at?"

"When we closed the doors to Hell, and buried Dawnie..." Buffy's breath hitched, strangling around her deceased sister's name. "I was ready to take a minor step back. To heal. And when you said you'd join me... Well, we've done that. And when Dean called I was ready to accept a new way of living. Travel-patrolling, hunting, whatever. We've done that, too. But I won't allow you to coddle me. You never did before. Why start now?"

Sam was caught off-guard by his rising feelings for Buffy. In the past few weeks he'd realized he more than loved the girl. She was his everything. His soul. His surrender. She alone could move him to action or keep him bound. Without Buffy, he was nothing.

And she risked herself every damned day. And he was just supposed to fucking watch. He had a newfound appreciation for Giles. If Sam lost her…"I can't explain it. But where you go, I go."

"Good, it's settled then." She nodded, satisfied, but he knew she'd taken that wrong. If Buffy died, he'd die. The end. And every day she put herself at risk, she risked him as well. "We leave in the morning."

Without warning, he cradled her petite face in his huge hands, drawing her forehead to rest against his. She stood on her tip toes, desperate to reach him, her hands in his ever-growing hair, pulling gently on the ends. When she whispered, "I won't leave you," he nearly shattered.

He still didn't like the idea of Buffy anywhere near Snowden, not until they uncovered more research. But he had the night to convince her, and he'd be damned if he wasted a single more second. When his lips found hers, a kiss born of desperation. She must've felt as much, because soon they were entangled in each other, grasping, drawing each other out.

He lowered her backwards over the bed, pinning her down. "You won't leave me." It was a command. Not an affirmation.

A single, innocent shake of her head. It was enough of an answer for him.

And just like that, they were lost in each other again.

Buffy stared at Sam's sleeping form. It was well into the night and they'd made mad and furious love for hours. Sam had been constant, yet off-putting. Close, yet distant. Buffy regretted all the miles between them they still had to trek to get back to happiness.

Her nightmares kept them miles apart. Her guilt kept them at arm's length.

Either way, it was her fault. Either way, they hadn't bridged their issues.

Either way…she was to blame for their burned bridges…

And she was sitting here in the dark, playing with matches.

She knew leaving now for the forest would only create more problems. Trust being one of them. But what good would a suicidal Sam be for their relationship…or a dead Winchester. She'd played that game before, experienced it firsthand. Never again.

Resolution was gnawing at her, driving her from the room. And before she knew it, she was gathering google directions from her cell to Snowden and on her way. She'd been to the real Hell. Traveled through time, space, dimensions. She'd had The Beast inside her, been attacked-no, consumed-by pride. Yet, it'd only made her resolutions stronger.

And no matter what wedge it created between her and Sam, at least he'd be alive to drive it home. The forest had no power over her, and she'd prove it. She'd get to the bottom of what was plaguing the hikers/inhabitants of the surrounding areas of Snowden. And with any luck, she'd do so before the younger Winchester woke and found her gone.

Sam tore through the hotel room at dawn, awakening to find Buffy missing and a single two-word note on her bedside table: Had to.

He flew down the corridor, banging on Dean's room door. Dean answered, half-asleep. "What, what?"

"She's gone. Buffy's gone."

Dean registered what that meant relatively swiftly. Both brothers knew Buffy's martyr routine like the back of their hand by now. Made the girl an impossible partner and uncredible team member. It would drive them both mad eventually.

Grabbing his coat off the back of the chair, Dean followed Sam down to the impala, whining, "Can't she ever go be a hero in the waking hours of the day?"

Sam tossed Dean a lethal look. "This isn't funny."

"This also isn't the end of the world. She can take care of herself."

Sam chuffed. "Maybe, but that's not the point."

Dean hopped into the driver's seat and started the car. Sam was in the passenger seat a second later. "Then what is the point? That she disobeyed you, yet again?" Dean rolled his eyes. "You have to stop acting like you have any say in that girls life choices. You knew this when you met her. She's a free spirit Sam. And sometimes the girl likes to fly towards the sun with waxed wings just for a freakin' tan."

Sam sighed, appearing resigned. Dean tried to give him the space he knew his brother needed, but staying quiet was a hard set and match to gamble on, especially when it came to Sammie's happiness. Which unfortunately for both for them at this point, relied heavily on Buffy's unscripted life choices.

Dean flew forward on the back roads, familiar with the route into the forest. He hoped Alice wouldn't miss them, she had agreed to meet the brother's and Buffy at the local diner at noon for a debriefing of sorts so they could all get on the same page.

When Sam spoke again, his voice was low, defeated. "I can't live each and every day like this."

Dean already guessed at what his brother was referring to, but asked anyway. "Like what?"

"Worrying. It's an infection. A disease. It never clears up, never leaves me. I worry about her all—the—time. And it's killing me."

Dean glanced over, spying the grim cast looming in Sam's eyes. "Then don't."

Sam looked over. "What do you mean?"

"Then let her go if it bothers you so much. If she makes you weaker, distracted, less of a hunter. Then trim the fat. Cut loose the things holding you back. It's what Dad always said."

Sam appeared resentful. "Of course you would say that. You've never supported me in anything. Both of you," he said, referring to John Winchester's harsh criticisms of Sam's decisions."Always chasing after Dad's leftover pipe dreams of saving the world. Never understanding when I didn't jump at the chance to do the same."

"I'm just playing devil's advocate Sammie boy. I know it's not what you want to hear. And trust me; I don't like saying it either. I don't particularly hate having Buffy around, if you know what I mean. But she is your weakness. Your Achilles' heel. And if you can't find your strength with her, then maybe she isn't what you need right now. Let her go, see where life takes you without her."

"I can't." Was his only reply. "I can't."

Dean nodded, understanding. Buffy was an enigma, a wild card. She drew people to her like a moth to a flame, but it was a short-lived fascination. Because when you woke from the phantasma she drew her in with, you found out you were on fire.

And it hurt.

Sam had been engulfed in flame for months now.

When Dean pulled into the main entrance lot for Snowden he spied Alice's truck and swore under his breath.

Sam glanced at the vehicle and back at Dean, a peculiar look on his face. "Alice? What is she doing here?"

Dean tore out of the impala, intent on reaching Ally's green pick-up. Finding it empty, he turned to face Sam. "Grab weapons from the trunk, salt, shotguns, and load up on knives. I swear to all hell if we march in there and find either damsel in distress, this forest has another thing coming."

Sam watched with wide eyes as Dean strapped several daggers to his legs and belt, throwing a shotgun over his shoulder with a round of bullets over his other shoulder. "Are we going to war?"

Dean glared. "Enough, Sam." He didn't have time for Sam's judgements; Alice and Buffy were in there. Game on, Snowden.

"What, I can rant and rave over the blonde in there, but you worry a singular shred for the brunette and enough is enough?"

Dean threw a look at Sam that was meant to be final, an end to this conversation. But Sam wasn't having it. He gave chase to Dean's path into the forest, directly in his heels. "Dean?"

"What?! What is it, Sam?" He turned, angry now. Time could've taken Alice from him already. The girl was a right idiot coming here without protection…or maybe she had some…maybe Buffy had seen her leave and followed her. Either way, he wasn't taking any chances with the young scientists life. He told himself he needed her to solve this mission, but he knew now it went deeper than that. Shame was a anaconda, winding itself around his ribs, stealing his very breath. "Whatever you have to say to me, say it. We are wasting time."

Sam's head reared back, shock on his masculine features. Sometimes Dean looked at his little brother and lost all sense of time, forest or not, Sammie wasn't a boy any longer. When had that happened exactly? "Dean," he began, his voice soft, understanding, "you like her, don't you?"

Dean tore off again, trailing a faint—yet new—path a single hiker had cut within the last hour or so. The steps were shorter, made by someone about Alice's height. Time was on their side.

"Dean?" Sam persisted.

Dean looked back over his shoulder, allowing his frustrations to show. "That's seriously enough, Sam. Harp on me later. For now, we have a couple seriously-due-for-a-spanking-later chicks to rescue."

Sam halted, his boots ceasing their steady rhythmic crunching over the spring branches left behind from winter's weight. "Or…they will save our asses."

When Dean spun and saw what his brother was seeing, his dinner nearly made a comeback. No less than fifty corpses swung from tree branches to the west. Some had been cut down and lay twisted at odd angles on the forest floor. Piles of rotten flesh sank inside soaked and tattered clothes, wafting in the breeze. Some of the dead looked as if they'd been there for merely days, others for years, nothing but bones and teeth remained of who they had once been.

A buzzing sounded from what seemed to be everywhere all at once. Like bees swarming, the noise grew. Immediately Dean shook loose some salt and created a circle around him and Sam. They both backed up against each other, heads swiveling in every direction.

A second later Alice's cries broke over the root-infested hill to their left. Like a sieve, his mind tore open, utterly exposed, and flushed all sense from him. He'd never wanted to run blindly into danger more. In that terrible moment, Dean realized the position his strange feelings for Alice were putting him in. I'm screwed.

Dean glanced at Sam, his eyes betraying his fear. Sam shook his head violently. Dean surged forward anyway, getting caught on Sam's latch-hook arm, holding him stationary. "Dean, no."

Another cry for help from Alice, this one closer. Anguished. Fear was a tangible creature now, licking Dean's exposed chest with its citrus tongue. "Let. Me. Go. Sam," he ground out, irate. He'd be forever damned if anything happened to Alice Dennings on his watch.

The. End.

Sam only held on tighter. "If we break the circle, we are as good as hanging up our hero status. Puns intended. We don't even know if that's Alice!"

Dean couldn't control the wild look he knew he now wore. He felt stripped bare. Entirely. If Alice died-

Not on my watch damnit! "What if it was Buffy?" he ground out. And just like that, a terrible sadness washed over Sam's features, and his brother's fingers loosened enough for Dean to break free from. Without a second thought, Dean flew into the forest towards Alice's voice.

Like a haunting, it never appeared to be getting closer. He ran until his lungs burned, his legs ached. Everything was awash in pain. Helplessness. He ran until he swore he'd covered every inch of Snowden's hundred plus square miles.

He'd lost sight and sound of Sam long ago. Time was a foreign language again. And he was in a strange new land, one where he couldn't communicate. When he fell to his knees, breathless and exhausted, his mind was acting on a spool left of thread, slowly unwinding.

That was the state she found him in.

"Dean?" Alice's sweet voice broke through his fog. "What are you doing out here?"

Dean's head lolled back, fatigue robbing him of action. He struggled to his feet all the same, surveying her soft features, her exotic-looking curls, left loose. Her fathomless gray eyes bore into his as he loomed closer. Like a madman, he allowed himself to lean into her, his fingers sifting into her mass of brown hair. "You're here."

It was a muttered sentence, more to himself, more out of necessity than anything else. But she responded anyway. "I am. I was just collecting some last minute data. But what are—um…"

Her voice trailed off as he the backs of his fingers glided over her cheekbone. "So soft."

"Dean?" Alice squeaked, concern in her wide eyes. "Are you alright? You're out of breath and there are cuts on your face." Her small fingers found their way to his cheekbones and the warmth of them was like quicksand, dragging him under. His eyes slid closed in ecstasy. This woman…dear god. She'd be the death of him. He lost all sense when she was around.

When she retracted her hand, a frown found her delicate pink lips. "Maybe we should get you back to the hotel and cleaned up. It's late."

The fog within his mind encircled, threatening. "I heard you cry out."

"I didn't. It must've been someone els—"

He cut her off, his voice sharp. "It was you."

She nodded, biting at her lower lip. "Okay, okay. Let's just—we can talk about this later." She herded him back the way he'd come, as if he was a wounded animal. Dean allowed it, relishing in the sights and sounds of Alice alive and well.

"What happened?" she pried after they'd walked in silence for some time. "You look shaken."

Dean bit back on the truth, instead showing off all the half-truths he had in his arsenal. "Let's just say I had a taste of what this place can do to a person. And I didn't like it."

Alice swallowed loudly. The look Dean was giving her was ladled with heavy things. Confusing things. He'd insinuated that she was the catalyst for his current state, but that couldn't be right.

Could it? The ridiculously mysterious and undeniably handsome Supernatural-Specialist, was worried for her?

She tossed free the stupid idea and trudged on beside him. She'd snuck out to collect the last of her data-traps, seismic meters she'd sprinkled at the base of the suicide hot spots. She hadn't expected Dean to arrive, breathless and untamed, spouting of concern for her and reveling in the sight of her safe.

Her heart raced at the reminder. Her hand found her cheek for a brief second. It still tingled where he'd drew his knuckles down over her cheekbone, as if in reverence. He had looked at her like she was a life line. And frankly, the thought terrified her as much as it excited her.

Dean flipped open his phone and began a conversation with who she could only assume was his brother, Sam, on the other line. "Found her. You?"

A pause. "We will. She couldn't have gone far. If the place let Alice go and merely taunted us, then Buffy has a straight shot of just simply strolling through here unharmed."

Another pause. This one lengthy. "I know, Sammie. I know. Meet you back at the impala. We will branch out as soon as we get Alice to safety."

Dean halted abruptly, Alice tried to keep up and stalled too. Dean looked away, the rigid set of his jaw scared her slightly. Was this Dean..really and truly angry? Ally hated it. Wanted to soothe him. But the why and how were too elusive for such actions. Dean sputtered, "It's done Sammie. Don't argue." He slapped the phone shut and turned to meet her gaze.

Like a fly trapped in honey, he froze when his eyes met hers. A twinge of a smile broke free, but it appeared forced. "We are good. Let's get you back to the hotel."

Ally frowned. "I do not want to create conflict. Are you…are you searching for the blonde with the silly name? Is she out here, too?"

Dean plowed ahead, putting a protective arm around Alice and guiding her forward with him. "Buffy is out here, yes. But she can handle herself."

That tiny blonde? The girl was nearly a fraction smaller than Alice's slight frame, and Ally could barely hold her own against scientific equipment. She had the bruises to prove it. Damned tripods… "Dean, uh, I honestly appreciate what you are trying to do for me. But we haven't laid everything out on the table yet. What you do, who you work for. So trust is a flexible word between us right now. Let's not put it to the test so early on and be truthful with each other." A forced pause. "I was."

Dean didn't slow his pace, but his hand moved to her lower back, fingertips biting, as if signaling for her to shut up. She took offense to it, moving out of his grip. "And please do not assume I am going to be forthcoming if you are a vault."

He tossed her an irritated glance. "Fine. My brother and I, we grew up in an unconventional family. Our parents were hunters."

Alice figured as much, but sought validation all the same, asking, "Hunters? Of what?"

"Anything that would harm an innocent person. Ghosts mostly…" He let his voice trail off, giving Alice a sidelong glance.

Ally got the distinct impression Dean was trying to read her, or gauge her reactions. "Okay. So you believe in ghosts. Lots of people do."

Dean let loose a husky chuckle. "Believe in, sure. If you wish to put it that way Ms. Sexy Scientist. Whatever puts your analytical mind at ease."

Ally's heart skipped a beat. Sexy? No had ever called her that. She glanced down at her average get up and unwashed frizz fest of hair, pulling an untamed piece through her fingers in thought. Dean must've noticed, because he grinned at her, a flirtatious—outrageously flirtatious given their current circumstances—grin that had her head spinning.

A second later of awkward silence, she said, "Alright, so you hunt down these…ghosts, and then what?"

"We put them to rest. Simple as that."

Ally nodded, not yet ready to divulge that she indeed did believe in the supernatural world. It was a hard-pressed secret, one she'd always found it a necessity to keep close. Yet, with Dean, she felt oddly at ease. Like, he'd not ridicule her for her beliefs. No, she got the very divergent feeling that he'd believe in them, too. Or anything else her mind might conjure up.

Another minute of silence between them brought a new question to Dean's lips: "What are you thinking? I feel like I'm failing to understand you."

Ally slid her grey eyes to Dean's greens ones. The look he gave her spoke volumes. He was truly baffled by her. She frowned at the thought. Unalluring, open-book Ally, was making the world's most handsome and mysterious man…intrigued?

"I'm not sure there's anything to understand," she admitted. "I'm boring. Usually literal. I study. I sleep. I eat. Nothing to pick my brain over."

He scoffed, as if she was being facetious. "You boast scientific credentials, yet do not fight me over the fact that ghosts exists." He stared down at her as they walked and she nearly tripped at the intense look he was leveling at her. "So you are quite literally, either the most open-minded person I've ever met, or the best liar. Either way, you interest me."

A blink. Two. What was he getting at? Ally did what she does best and let it go. Dean wouldn't have it though. "What about now? What are you thinking right now?"

A soft sigh escaped her, born of equal parts frustration and fascination. She grinned, though, before she delivered the truth: "I was thinking I wish you'd drop this subject. I don't understand your angle and it's not why we are here."

Dean glared, his eyes narrowing to slits. "No, we are here because my brother's girlfriend is an unsung hero and you are apparently auditioning for the role as her sidekick."

He stopped abruptly and Ally turned to see what was wrong. Dean's eyes never left hers, drilling…drilling... "If anything had happened to you out here…"

Huh? Air eluded Alice. What was Dean getting at?

Like a shot, the small blonde, Buffy, came down from above, dropping out of what had to have been a tree. She hit the ground hard and unfurled slowly, knees bent. Blood tracked down from her wrists where she'd been cut, or—Ally swallowed—cut herself. Her hair was a wild tangled mess, leaves and branches woven through its silken mass. She wore a simple pair of jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt. Both were in tatters, the ends of her shirt shredded around her dripping wrists.

"Buff? What the hell happened?" Her eyes locked onto Dean, no recognition resided there. Oh my god.

Her feral gaze then shifted to Alice, head cocking to the side in curiosity. "You…" Buffy took a staggered step forward, swaying on her feet. From blood loss? Her wrists continued to drip. Drip…

…drip…

Dean shifted himself in front of Alice, shielding her. He looped an arm around her waist, yanking her behind him further. When she tried to peer around his outstretched arm, he gave her a scalding look, barking, "Stay put."

Ice flooded Alice's veins at his cold tone. She slid her gaze back to Buffy, who was still staggering forward. Only a few feet remained between them.

"Buffy," Dean said, trying to calm her, his voice low and soothing. "Listen to me, whatever you are feeling, it's not real."

"Free. I need to be free." Buffy's voice was a husky whisper, almost unrecognizable. Like a feral animal she spoke through her perfect white teeth. Sense wasn't reaching her. The forest—or something inexplicable—had her.

Dean flew forward, making his move. He tackled the petite blonde to the ground, but she didn't go down so easily, twisting in the air and landing atop him. She raised a bloodied fist and when it crashed down against the side of Dean's face Alice cried out. The show of weakness distracted Dean, his eyes finding Ally's, worry clearly painted across his features. When he saw her distraught sounds were concern for him, he tore his eyes from hers.

Alice surged forward, terrified to get between these two...friends? Siblings? Dean's fingers latched onto both of Buffy's wrists and she grit her teeth in pain, fighting to be free of his punishing grip. "Buffy! It's me. Calm the hell down!"

Dean freed her wrists, shoving upward with all his strength and unseating her position, she flew backwards landing on her bottom. Then, in what could only be explained as an expert move, she used the momentum to somersault backwards, pushing up into a reverse handstand. Her feet landed with a thud, her hands raised from the ground for another attack. Holy shit, the girl was a freakin' ninja! "I need her! If I give her to it, I can be free!" Her voice was born of desperation.

Anxiety crept over Ally. "She doesn't mean me does she?"

Dean ignored her, focusing on Buffy. "One problem at a time, Dennings." His harsh eyes drilled into his sister-by-proxy. "Buff, listen to me. You are stronger than this. Think about what you are doing."

Buffy shook her head violently, cradling her bloodied hands against her pale hair, leaving rusty red streaks in the threads. "No, no, no. You don't understand." Her voice was miserable now, pained.

Dean's face shuddered, but for a single second Ally thought she saw fear in his eyes. True fear. Did Dean have doubts about getting through to Buffy? Or was he fearing for his own life and limbs at this point? For the size of the girl, she apparently packed a major punch. Dean's next words were directed at Alice, and she had her answer: "Alice, listen to me. You are to run when I say so, you hear me? Get back to your truck and get the hell out of here. Don't look back."

His words were not a suggestion. Ally nodded, understanding coming too slowly that Dean was about to have a serious life or death decision on his hands if the girl attacked him again. Was the little waif really that much of a warrior even all six foot three of Dean was nervous to go for a round of fist-a-cuffs with her?

Alice didn't want to test the theory. She started backing away. "Alice?" Dean called out again. Ally realized he had one eye on Buffy, assessing her deteriorating mind, so he'd not seen her head bob in answer.

"Y-yes," she answered, a tremor in her voice. "Okay."

He let out a breath. "Good girl."

Reaching into his pocket, he rang what must've been Sam again, voice gravelly as he rumbled off a set of threats if the guy didn't get here post haste and save his damned girlfriend from being shot. Ally watched, terror slithering it's way through her veins, as Dean reached under his left coat tail, dragging into sight a revolver and aiming it at the blonde.

She rocked back and forth on her heels, fingers still at her temples, mumbling to herself. "They want her. It's their due. Due! Due to them. Can't deny them. Can't."

Dean made his move lightning fast, and Buffy was knocked back with brutal force. Ally wondered briefly if he'd regret laying violent hands on his brother's girlfriend…and how Sam was going to take the news. What have I gotten myself tangled up in? Who have I entangled myself with...?

Like a ghost, Sam appeared almost out of thin air, ripping Dean off Buffy like a madman. "Dean! Stop!" The brother's ratcheted off each other, stumbling backwards from the opposing forces. Buffy sat where she was put down, bewildered and pale in the moonlight seeping through the trees. She looked ready to faint. It must be from the blood loss. Or shock. Sam was crouching before her on the balls of his feet in the next second. "Buffy? Hey, hey, it's me. Look at me, baby." He cradled her small face in his hands, drawing her eyes to his and holding them there.

Recognition flared in the girl for the first time since she'd dropped out of nowhere. "Sam?" she questioned, the fog seemingly clearing from her mind.

He fell forward onto his knees, cradling her head to his chest and closing his eyes in relief. "Yes, yes, it's me. Shh. I got you. You are gonna be fine."

"What happened?" she croaked, her voice like sandpaper.

Dean watched with wary eyes, positioning himself in front of Ally, even as Buffy appeared to be coming to her senses.

"What is going on?" Ally asked, distraught. The question was more like an accusation, as if Dean had somehow been the cause of this…when deep down she knew that was an unfair assumption.

Dean lanced her with a scalding look. "We can talk about who—or what—is to blame for this later. For now, get your ass back to the truck."

Grr! Impossible man! When she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off, "Alice, you agreed."

Frustration was her now her constant companion where Dean was concerned. She had agreed to run when he said so, yes, but it appeared the danger was gone now? All the same, she hid her annoyance and trudged back to the truck, Dean's gaze hot on her the whole trip. Her eyes constantly wandering back to where she left the three.

When she got into the truck, she caught flashes of Sam carrying a lifeless-looking Buffy in his arms back to the impala. He gently deposited her in the back seat, maneuvering his large frame into the back with her, and laying her half-draped across him.

Fear, confusion, anxiety, all threatened to drown her. She needed answers more than ever. And Dean seemed to be holding out on her. His brother, Buffy...all of them, they more than chased ghost stories, apparently they fought them. What other secrets did the trio have? What else would she discover if she continued to work with them? She'd found out too much too soon! And she hadn't even started to work with them yet!

Before she knew it she was peeling out back onto the main roads, and speeding off back towards the hotel. Dean was leaning out his car window, shouting something at her, but she couldn't make it out. Didn't care. She needed a moment…or twelve thousand. She'd seen too much, too soon. The brothers could be dangerous. And she seriously needed to re-evaluate the wisest course for her right now.

Placing a shaking hand on the seismic meters she'd retrieved tonight on the seat next to her, she knew they were her newest and only avenue left right now. Dean might be a very, very bad idea. Or the best one ever, Al.

His intense reactions over her tonight had her mind in a brazen fog. Did he treat all innocent bystanders like that? Or was his concern for her of a different nature?

She shook the thought loose. As tempting as it was to entertain, she didn't need to entangle herself with someone like Dean. He was a grifter, an impossibility, and a warrior in a world she wasn't sure she wanted to be a part.

Even if her mind couldn't stop circling back to the what's, why's and how's of Snowden. Even if she lost her credibility, her father's trust, and her grants. Liar, dangerous part of her deep down called her bluff.

Ally watched in horror through her rearview as Dean's impala tore out of the park's dirt drive, skidding into the street like something out a high speed chase movie. Instantly her heart was in her throat. She pushed the pedal faster, trying to escape the sight of the crazy triangle of supernatural hunters behind her, knowing full well how ridiculous it was, since they were essentially headed back to the same place.

Alone, I just need some time to think alone… Away from those green eyes that somehow had the power to pull answers from her against her very will.

But her wishes went ungranted as Dean caught up to her in seconds, tailing her too closely for her liking. He pulled alongside her, making eye contact as they drove side by side, Dean's vehicle illegally using the left-hand lane, forging forward into oncoming traffic. Okay, well, the roads were barren tonight, but what if another car came…

Dean motioned for her to roll her window down, making a cranking gesture with his right arm. Anger radiated from him. She obeyed, afraid to disobey him at this point. Her eyes caught sight of Sam still holding Buffy in the backseat, the tiny blonde finally passed out. The expression on the younger brother's face one of untold terror. Sam truly must love his beautiful girlfriend. It pained Alice to see it, reminding her for a split second that these people were human, even if they didn't always act—or fight—like it.

When the window was down all the way, Dean shouted across the bridge between them, commanding, "Get back to the hotel and stay there. We will be shortly behind."

Alice's eyes widened briefly, not knowing what to say, because a part of her wanted to stop off for her belongings and continue on back to Kansas with her tail between her legs, never to set eyes on Dean again. But another part—deep, deep, down—some twisted, obviously sick, part, wanted to do just as he said. Wanted to trust him.

Either way, her first destination was the same.

She watched, shocked, as Dean tore past her, yanking his car onto the correct side of the road in front of her. Within two minutes his red tail lights were just a mirage.

Then…gone, like the car had been only an apparition itself.

Her simple scientific retrieval trip for the evening had turned into a night she'd probably be put away for talking about. And, shockingly enough, in retrospect, it still hadn't been the worst night of her life.

No, that was a deeply buried secret. A night ten years past that still haunted her. And the reason why she followed in her father's footsteps and went on to invest herself in the science aspect of the inexplicable.

Because in the world of numbers, everything had purpose. And all answers were born from reason.

Reason…yes, reason…she chanted to self-soothe herself, her mind still a plagued entity, muddled and utterly directionless as she drove on.