Apartment D-6,

Cedar Trace Apartments,

Antioch, Alabama.

One Day Later.

Jennifer tossed a honeybun in each of the two brown paper lunch bags on the kitchen counter in front of her. "I've got some Swiss Rolls, too. Do you want a couple of those?"

Sam, who was standing to her left, quickly objected. "Oh, no, we couldn't-"

"It's a long drive to Indiana," Jennifer interrupted, throwing more than a couple of Swiss Rolls into the bags. "You'll thank me later."

"I'm thanking you now," Dean told her. "Seriously. You don't have to go through all this trouble."

"Does it look like a lot of trouble?" Jennifer asked. "I'm throwing junk food into bags." She smiled at him. "It's the least I can do."

Dean returned the smile. "Well, thank you."

She folded down the tops of the bags and handed one to each of them. "You're all set." She followed them into the living room, then into the foyer, then out the door. The three of them came to a stop on the sidewalk and admired the pleasant afternoon. The heavy rains that had recently become so characteristic of Antioch were gone. Bright, golden sunlight had replaced it. "Looks like nice weather for driving."

"Yep. No more omens. Hopefully that means all the demons got the heck outta Dodge," Dean said.

"But just in case it doesn't," Sam spoke up. "You've got our numbers."

"Yes. I sure do."

Silence.

Dean turned to her and stared into her eyes, watching her steely blue irises sparkle in the light. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" he questioned her. "Your friend was killed by a demon, and your associate pastor sold his soul to the devil. That's a lot."

"Yeah." She smiled. "But I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you two. You're the ones about to face off a bunch of vampires."

Dean shrugged. "Duty calls."

"Well, be careful," she said.

"We will," Sam assured her.

More silence.

"Uh, well, Jennifer," Sam stammered. "It was nice to meet you."

She gave him a hug. "You too, Sam."

Dean nodded and pulled her into a friendly embrace. "Yeah, it was a pleasure. Thanks, again."

"No problem. Drive safe."

"'Kay. See ya round," Dean said, leading the way toward the Impala.

Jennifer suddenly stepped forward and called after them. "You know," she started. "I just realized that throughout this whole experience, I never even got your real names."

Sam pivoted to face her. "Really?"

"Well," Jennifer grinned. "I sincerely doubt you're Ulrich and Hetfield."

Dean chuckled. "It's Winchester. Dean and Sam Winchester."

"Oh." She smiled. "Like the rifle?"

"Like the rifle," Dean repeated. The two of them shared a meaningful smile. He broke the glance. "Sammy, you coming or what?"

Jennifer watched as the Winchester brothers and their shiny classic automobile disappeared.

Dean put Antioch, Alabama, in the rear-view mirror, as the sounds of AC/DC pounded from the speakers.

The Winchesters had gone about half a mile when Sam reached over and turned down the radio. "So, what was that back there?" Sam asked mischievously, displaying a dumb grin.

"What was what?"

Sam grinned wider. "That extended gaze, the meaningful smile…"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, please."

"I don't know, man. Seemed kinda like there was something there."

"I already told you, Sammy. I'm not into prude chicks."

"I know. And I also know that if Jennifer wasn't a Christian, you would have gone for it."

"Probably."

Sam hesitated before quietly saying, "Which…if you ask me…says a lot about you."

Dean shot him a look. "Yeah, it does say a lot about me. It says that I respect her."

"Oh, really? So, all those comments you made about God and faith and prayer? That was respecting her?"

"Give me a break. I didn't say anything that wasn't true."

"Maybe not, but you were pretty rude."

Dean said nothing and kept his eyes on the road.

"I just think you could have said things a bit more…tactfully."

"Well, Sam, we probably won't ever see her again. She'll forget about us, and we'll forget about her. What I said doesn't really matter."

Sam heaved a sigh. "I guess not."

"And hey, at least I was straight up the whole time," Dean commented. "One minute you were accusing her of killing Trevor Bradley and Frank Linton, the next you're nominating her for sainthood."

Sam had to laugh. "Sainthood?"

"You get the picture."

"A really distorted picture," Sam scoffed. "Yeah, at first I thought she might have been a killer, and I had good reasons for thinking that. But after we took a look around her place and found absolutely nothing, and after talking with Martha Linton, I realized that you were right about her."

"Well, of course I was right." Dean grinned at him. "I don't even know why you try anymore. I'm always right."

Sam laughed. "Yeah. Just like you were right about the lady that answered the door being Martha Linton."

"That was a simple mistake."

"Sure."

"Seriously? That's all you got on me?" Dean shook his head, smiling. "That's sad, Sammy." He turned up the radio. "Really sad."