(A/N: Major kudos to Kes Cross for helping me find 'Dee's voice'. 'Cause seriously, if she hadn't pushed me in the right direction...I'd still be doing rewrites. This chapter is dedicated to her.)

(Disclaimer: Don't own anything Supernatural related; the following story and the characters of Riley and Dee belong to me)

Requiem.

Chapter Ten.

His heart was pummelling against his chest wall, his breathing coming in short, sharp rasps as he struggled to take control of his body, control of the disorientation that shrouded him. He shook his head; refusing the confusion that was being offered. He would not be out of control. Not him.

"Shhh, Dean…easy now…" came the reassuring voice at his side.

"Riley…" he croaked; blinking his eyes slowly as he tried to focus, tried to figure out where he was. He forced his mind outwards; …lying down…soft cotton…naked. Bed. He was in bed. He reached out a hand, finding nothing but empty space. He frowned as the memory of screeching tyres filtered back to him; then the flash of malignant green eyes glaring triumphantly at him. "Riley…" he rasped again, a deeper frown creasing his brow. Something was wrong with Riley.

He started to push himself out of bed, but felt a firm pressure his shoulder as he was forced back. No. He had to get to Riley…before the…the…'eyes' did.

"You're hurt, Dean. You need to rest…"

He shook his head; "Riley…trouble…" He winced at the pain that shot through his throat with every utterance. "Need …help …" he tried to sit up again but was held down more firmly.

"No, you're staying put..."

"No. Something…wrong…" he stammered. He pushed against the force that was trying to keep him down; "Sam…" he tried to yell; but it came out barely a whisper; his mind now understanding the pressure that was on his throat. He tried to raise his hands, but they were held fast, pinned to the bed at his sides. He blinked rapidly, trying to stop the darkness that was edging into his vision. "Stop…" he ordered, pushing against the pressure on his wrists.

"I said you're staying put," came the now menacing whisper.

He raised his eyes to his attacker, his vision swimming as he tried to focus on the body above his; "Help…Riley…"

She lowered her head; "Oh, I'll be helping her alright…" she increased the pressure on his carotid arteries "Now. Go. Back. To. Sleep," she hissed; kneeling all the more harder on his wrists as he tried in vain to struggle against her.

She smiled as his head lolled to the side; "There's a good boy." She moved quickly off Dean and checked his throat; the bruises her fingers would leave would blend in with the ones he already had. Perfect. She placed his arms under the sheets and smoothed the blankets before sitting on the mattress next to him. She studied him with cold detachment, analysing the antagonist before her. He was weak now, easy to subdue…and that's how she had to keep him. At full strength, he'd be a dangerous adversary. Very dangerous. But she needed him alive…she wasn't sure why.

She patted his cheek sharply; "Best you stay right where you are, Winchester," she whispered.

Her eyes dropped to his neck; so close to just snapping it…she raised a hand, her fingers whispering over his throat; so close. She lifted her gaze to his face as her fingers grazed one of the wounds at his neck; so close. She blinked as her fingers brushed against the gauze and her hands moved deftly; re-adjusting the bandages to Dean's neck as footsteps broke through her reverie.

"What are you doing!" Sam yelled as he saw Dee's hands near his brother's neck.

"Take it easy, Sam. Just making sure the…that there's no infection," said Dee as she finished fixing the dressing. "He's fine…"

"He's not fine," angered Sam as he went to his brother, pushing her out of the way. "And we all know why that is!" he spat as he sat on the bed and checked Dean's throat; "Don't we?" he asked as he turned his head, but he was speaking to an empty room.

Dee found Bobby outside loading weapons into his truck; wearing a look of dogged determination as he repeatedly glanced at her. She leaned against the old Ford and lit a smoke; "Going somewhere?"

Bobby ignored the question as he threw a duffel bag into the cab of the truck. He wasn't going to argue with anyone, let alone Dee, about his decision. This was his mess, and no one would be cleaning it up but him. He'd fucked up thirty years ago, and it was time to make things right.

"You're not going after her," angered Dee as she put herself between Bobby and the truck.

"Step out of my way, Dee," Bobby ordered.

"No." The word was softly spoken, yet full of menace. Cold, calculating menace. "You want to go after Riley, you have to go through me."

"Don't tempt me, missy. Now move," he said through gritted teeth as he took a step towards her.

Dee stood her ground; "Through me, Bobby."

"Christ Almighty, woman! " cried Bobby in frustration. "Me and Sam explained what was going on!" He threw up his hands in disgust; "What does she have to do for you to realise…"

"It's you that doesn't realise what you're up against!" interrupted Dee.

Bobby let out a bitter laugh; "I understand more than you think. Do you have any idea how dangerous she is?"

Dee gave him a lopsided grin; "And I understand more than you think, Bobby." She took a step towards him; "You know who trained her. Jack. And if you know Jack at all, then you should have some idea of how good she is." She leaned forward, putting her face inches from Bobby's; "But you need to worry about who else trained her, old son. Because if you think her skills are limited to hunting," she laughed softly; "Then you might as well go after her, make it easier on yourself."

Bobby glared at the woman in front of him; "If you know something I need to, then you damn well tell me!"

Dee stepped back and leaned against the truck again, a smile forming on her lips; "Now why would I do that when you've been less than forthcoming with your information." She piqued an eyebrow as she crossed her arms over her chest; "You're quite the master of the artful dodge. Tell me," she smiled; "What is it that you know?"

Bobby shook his head, an incredulous laugh floating from his lips; "Even after everything she's done, you're still defending her."

"Defending her or protecting you?" she smiled again; "That's the question you need to answer." She ground out her smoke under the heel of her boot, pushed herself from the truck and headed back towards the house.

Bobby stared at the now clear path to the truck; so easy to just get inside, gun the engine and start his 'hunt'; but his mind was doing somersaults as he wondered at Dee's words. What the hell kind of secrets of Riley's was that damn English bitch keeping?

He didn't jump when he heard the soft whisper near his ear. He didn't dare. The cold steel blade resting on his throat could have sliced his neck open like a pig in an abattoir. The low chuckle that accompanied the threat chilled Bobby to the bone, contradicting the hot breath that pushed against his ear.

"She could sneak up on you and slit your throat before you knew what was happening."

He felt the blade push once against his skin and then the pressure was gone. Bobby turned his head slowly and looked into Dee's twinkling green eyes. It wasn't the bright twinkling of the evening star that brought smiles to children's faces as they cast their wish; it was the look of a cold-blooded killer, toying with her prey; teasing him, like a cat does with a captured mouse before it finally slices its belly open, spilling its guts and life-blood into the dust. She sheathed the knife in a fluid movement and smiled. The smile didn't reach her eyes.

She raised an eyebrow; "I'm just saying."

Bobby stood at the window; it was his turn to watch Dee with her weapons. She was at the back of the Land Rover, checking each pistol meticulously before laying her arsenal out in precise order. There were no hesitations in any of her movements; she handled each weapon with not only perfect skill but with a disturbing intimacy.

"Tell me what you know about Dee's background?" Bobby asked quietly as he watched.

Sam raised his eyes from the sleeping form of his brother to the hunched shoulders of Bobby's back; "Background?"

Bobby turned slowly from the window and leaned his ass against the sill; "Anything you can tell me, Sam."

Sam's brows knitted together as looked at Bobby; "Didn't you just say Riley was our problem?"

"Riley is the problem. But I need to know who trained Riley and Dee isn't telling me squat. So you tell me about Dee."

Sam sighed; "Bobby…"

"Sam. That girl is coming back to finish the job on your brother, and you and I are in the firing line." He stared intently at Sam; "And I'm telling you, that's a literal firing line. Dee, for some reason, is still loyal to the bitch, so it's you and me now, son." He paused; "Tell me."

Sam shook his head with a sigh; "Shit, Bobby. I don't know all that much. She's ex-SAS - sniper. I've never seen her shoot, but Dean told me she's freakishly accurate." He glanced at his brother; "He was impressed so she must be pretty damn good."

"When'd she leave the army?"

Sam shrugged; "No idea. She doesn't talk about it and the last couple of times we've been together, chit-chat wasn't high on the agenda."

Bobby ignored the sarcasm; "You know how she and Riley met?"

Sam shook his head; "Not really. I…" he frowned in thought, "I think I remember Riley saying something about meeting up with Dee in Australia…but," he shrugged; "don't know how or where."

Bobby laughed hollowly; "You and your brother sure don't know a lot about these friends of yours, do you?"

Sam leaned forward in his chair; pushing down the anger that rose inside him as he stared at Bobby; "Maybe not, Bobby. But what we do know; what me and Dean know about them and what they know about us, is that we can rely on each other when it comes down to it."

"You still think that?" Bobby asked as he motioned to Dean.

Sam's gaze went back to his brother; to his pale face with the dark circles sitting under his eyes, and to the mess that was his neck. To what Riley had done to Dean. But what had she done? Dean should be awake; the wounds were deep, but not deep enough to have kept him out for this long. There had to be something else at play here. But what? What else could there be?

He slumped back in his chair; "I don't know what the hell to think anymore," he said wearily. "None of it makes any goddamn sense, and just when I think I got a handle on it, something else happens that throws me on my ass."

Bobby took a chair and placed it on the other side of the bed and sat; "Sam, listen to me. We're the only ones here that are going to protect Dean," he said quietly. "We don't know how Dee's gonna react, she's loyal to Riley, not to you or Dean. You understand me?"

Sam laughed softly; it was a tired laugh. "I haven't understood anything you've said since we got here, Bobby. No one's acting like themselves. Not you, not Dean and definitely not Riley and Dee." He paused and looked into Bobby's eyes; "And I got a feeling something bad's coming."

"Aaah, yeah, Sam. Riley."

Sam shook his head; "I don't mean her."

Bobby sighed; "Look, answer me honestly. Does Riley have it in her to come after us and…" he stopped, cocking his head as he remembered something Sam had said to Dee earlier; "What did you mean when you asked Dee about that guy in Vermont?"

"Guy?" Sam's brows knitted together in confusion; "Oh, that." He shrugged; "I don't know the exact details, but she killed one of the hillbillies that were hunting her and Dean. Slit his throat. She said she had no choice." He looked at his brother; "Dean backed her up."

Bobby nodded slowly; he could still feel the cold blade of the knife against his neck. He needed answers; "Think, Sam. You've hunted with her twice, you know more than you think you….what? What is it?" he asked as he saw Sam's eyes widen.

"Explosives."

"What?" asked Bobby incredulously; thinking he must have misheard the boy.

Sam looked over to Bobby; "When we were in Vermont, Riley used plastic explosive."

Dee knew she was being watched; she didn't care. She took a quick inventory of the precisely arranged weapons laid out in front of her; her L115A3 sniper rifle, .338 calibre with scope; two Browning 9mms – one with silencer; Sig Sauer P226 – 9mm; Walther P99 – 9mm; Kizlyar and Linder daggers, sharpened to perfection.

She gave a short, sharp nod. Travel light.

She took a duffel bag from the weapons cache and got the ammo she needed. She methodically disassembled the rifle and placed it in the bag. The Walther and Sig Saur joined the rifle while the Brownings went to the small of her back; the daggers in her boots. She slipped the bag over her shoulder and closed the Landy doors quietly.

She glanced up at the window and saw Bobby's back. She smiled to herself; it's all in the timing. She went quickly to Bobby's truck, then the Impala; let them try and follow her now.

She chanced another glance to the window; and smiled. She adjusted the duffel bag and jogged down the track towards the road. By the time they realised she was gone, she'd have a car and be on her way to Carthage. That's where he'd said Riley was.

And Riley needed to be dealt with.

"You have got to be shitting me, Sam!"

"Would I make a joke about that?" asked Sam angrily.

"Where the hell would she get plastic explosive?" asked Bobby as he stood. "And why the hell would she need it?"

Sam shook his head; "All I know is she got it from the back of the Landy and it looked like she knew how to handle the stuff. Wait here," he ordered as he jogged from the room.

Bobby's gaze shifted to Dean and he released a sigh. "What have you got yourself into, boy?" He took the medi-kit from the side table and got out fresh bandages. "Always thinking with your …" he stopped as Sam came in.

"Here," said Sam as he sat, resting the laptop on the side-table.

"What are you doing?"

Sam grinned at Bobby; "Gonna google them." He tapped in Dee's name first; she was military, there'd have to be something on her.

"Google," laughed Bobby as he began to remove the bandages from around Dean's neck.

"Yeah, well…maybe…" muttered Sam as he scanned name after name. He'd been at it for about five minutes when found something that caught his attention. The name was similar...and so was the town. "Huh. How about that…"

"What?" asked Bobby as he looked up from examining Dean's wounds.

"Carthage is what? Five, six hours from here?" asked Sam as he read the article.

Bobby's stomach tightened at the mention of the town; "'Bout that. Why?"

"It's probably nothing…coincidence," he shrugged; "But I found a Richardson. Not Dee. Isobel. Found murdered in Carthage about thirty years ago." He frowned; "Well maybe it's more than coincidence, says here she was English," he looked at Bobby. "What are the chances?"

"How'd they know she was English?" asked Bobby as he dropped his gaze back to Dean.

"Doesn't say." He glanced at Bobby; "But wasn't that where you said you met Jack? On a vamp hunt in Carthage?" Bobby nodded. "And?"

"And what?" asked Bobby.

"And don't you think it's odd that an English woman by the name of 'Richardson' was murdered in the same town and at about the same time you and Jack met?"

"Stranger things have happened, Sam."

"Yeah?" asked Sam as he watched Bobby; "Then why won't you look me in the eye, Bobby?" he asked as he studied the man's lowered head. "What do you know?"

"I don't know anything about anyone getting murdered in Carthage, Sam. Then or now."

"Well how 'bout we ask Dee how much of a coincidence she thinks it is?"

"You manage to find anything about Dee on there? And in case you've forgotten, we've still got Riley gunning for us."

"Riley…"

Both Sam and Bobby turned to the raspy voice.

"Dean…Dean…it's me, Sam. Open your eyes, dude."

"Sammy…"

"Right here, dude. Come on, open your eyes and look at me."

"Hurt…"

"Yeah, I know. But you're gonna be alright, I promise," whispered Sam as he squeezed Dean's shoulder gently.

Dean pulled his hands from underneath the blankets and raised his fingers to his throat and winced; "Hurt…"

"I know, son," said Bobby softly. "But Riley's gone, that bitch ain't gonna hurt you…"

Dean's eyes slowly fluttered open; "No..not…Riley…"

"Dean, look at me," said Sam, and he turned Dean's head gently towards him and looked into his brother's slowly focussing eyes. "Riley tried to kill you…"

Dean shook his head and winced, "No."

"Yes, Dean," Sam insisted.

Dean looked into Sam's eyes; "Not…Riley…Dee."

Sam slammed through the screen door; the crack of it hitting the wall was like a gunshot round the property. "DEE!" he yelled as he jogged down the porch steps. "DEE!" He kept yelling her name as he checked behind the house …but nothing. No Dee. She wasn't damn well anywhere. He came round the front of the house as Bobby walked out.

"Where the hell is she?" he asked as he came down the porch.

"I have no goddamn idea!" yelled Sam as he went to the Landy. He flung open the back doors, reached to the side and pressed the button that opened the floor.

"Goddamn…" whispered Bobby as he looked at the weapons that filled the hidden cache.

"Her rifle's missing," said Sam as he checked through the arsenal.

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!" he angered, slamming the floor then the doors shut. He turned and scanned the area, "Inside." He pushed Bobby towards the house; "GO!"

They moved quickly inside, both of them glancing over their shoulders as Sam shut the door behind them. He looked up when he heard footsteps; swearing as Dean came slowly down the stairs; his bag slung over his shoulder, Sam's bag in his hand.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" asked Bobby incredulously.

"To help Riley…" said Dean as he winced, dropping Sam's bag to the floor.

"She almost ripped your goddamn throat out, boy!"

"No she didn't. We just…doesn't matter." He looked at Sam. "Where's that bitch?"

"Which bitch are you talking about?" asked Bobby with a laugh.

Dean glared at Bobby then turned back to Sam; "Well?"

"Don't know, but her rifle's missing," said Sam.

Dean went to the window and peeked out quickly; his eyes scanning the property. "You know how long…" he winced as he swallowed; "she left? Riley and Dee."

"Riley was gone when we woke this morning. Dee…has to be in the last hour," said Sam.

"Dean," started Bobby, "you don't know what's going on…"

"I know more than you do," he winced and put a hand to his throat. "Shit."

"Riley did that to you, and then she ran. In the middle of the night. No note. No explanation. Just you, like that. What does that tell you?"

"That you don't know what the hell you're talking about," rasped Dean. "Let's go, Sammy."

Bobby stood in front of the door; "There's no way on God's green earth that I'm letting either of you out that door. You…" he pointed to Dean; "are in no condition to go anywhere. And you," he turned to Sam; "just told me one of them's a sniper and the other one plays with plastic explosive!" He looked between the two of them; "Are ya idjits?"

"You have no idea what's going on," angered Dean.

"First of all, do you have any idea where Riley is? No? Didn't think so. And secondly, who's to say that you don't walk out that door and get a bullet to the brain."

"Because, Bobby, if Dee wanted me dead…" he swallowed painfully, "I would be." He dropped his bag and pulled the cuffs of his shirt and jacket up; "Did I have these this morning?"

Bobby stared at the bruises that were starting to form on Dean's wrists.

"No? Didn't think so," he took a step towards Bobby, "Because Dee did that with her knees while she had her hands around my throat. She doesn't want me dead." He picked up his bag and turned to Sam; "Come on."

"And just where are you gonna start looking?"

"Carthage," said Sam as he picked up his bag.

Riley coughed. That's what woke her up. The first flutterings of consciousness floated through her mind as she coughed again. The coppery tang filled her mouth and she willed her eyes open, frowning as he looked through the shattered remains of the windshield. There were…trees in the sky? She blinked again and again as her mind began to catch up with her body.

Accident. She'd been in an accident…rolled the truck. Upside down now. Got it. She blinked rapidly again and then the pain hit. Okay, she grimaced, letting out a small yell between gritted teeth; all caught up now. Ribs, left hand, left knee…and the mother of all headaches was on its way. And lets not forget the acrid smell of petrol. Time to move.

She lowered her right arm towards the seat belt, biting back a yell as her shoulder muscles protested under the direction. Christ, how long had she been out? It took five or six hits to the button before she fell unceremoniously onto her shoulders; giving voice to the yell this time as her knee smacked against the steering wheel.

She lay on her back, breathing heavily as she listened to her body scream. She put tentative fingers to her head, feeling the gash and large lump on the left hand side of it Awesome. At least it wasn't bleeding freely. She looked at her watch, great. Broken. She reached over awkwardly and opened the glovebox, watching everything spill to the floor. She pushed at the parking tickets until she found her phone. She flicked it open and groaned, of course she couldn't get a signal. She looked out the shattered windscreen, nothing but trees and bush. No wonder.

She looked around the cab, no bag. Didn't matter, she had to get moving. She had her colt and her daggers; that was all she needed. She slid slowly from the truck, discovering new aches on the way, but she was more determined than ever to get out of here.

This hadn't been an accident. A woman standing in the middle of the road smiling at her? Yeah, right. She'd been stopped from trying to get to the ex-cop, and she had a pretty good idea why. He was the one who could tell her about the bloodied hands from her dream; the ones that were coming for Dean. The hands she knew already had one death stained on them; and if she didn't move her arse, there was gonna be another. She didn't doubt it.

But it was the name of the woman she was going to ask him about, that held her attention. She pushed herself painfully to her feet; whatever this cop knew about the murdered woman, was a death sentence. She needed to get to him.

And she needed to know why and Englishwoman by the name of Isobel Richardson had been murdered almost thirty years ago to the day in a town not far from Bobby's; and why this woman had used her mother's name on the registration form.

To be continued…