When a beam of early morning sunlight fell upon my face, I awoke with bitter sobriety. I couldn't remember feeling so awful since the death of my father. The sunlight burned at my corneas, and caused my head to pound viciously. I sat up, slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose as I did. I couldn't remember the last time I had ever drunk that intensely—if I ever had before. Of course, it wasn't my first time touching a drop of alcohol, but it surely was the first time I had drank an entire bar dry. I rubbed the tiredness from my eyes, and then noticed that I was back in the motel room that I had sprung for so that Danielle and I weren't forced to sleep with the brothers. Across the room, Danielle looked peaceful as she slept. She was the physical opposite of me; serene, clear-minded, and a perfect picture of health. I couldn't remember how I had gotten back here. Did Dean escort me? Did I walk myself?

It took all the strength I possessed to pull myself away from the mattress. Every single movement I made were both lethargic and agonizing. My bones ached; my brain convulsed. I took a long shower in hopes that it would diminish my hangover, even slightly—but it didn't. Was there anything I could take to remedy this awful feeling? I tried to remember what my brother would do when he spent a night binging, but I couldn't. To me, the most rational thing to do was to take an aspirin, and drink water for the rest of the day.

I moved to Danielle's bed, shaking her shoulder gently in order to wake her. After a moment of my persistence, her eyes opened slowly, and they studied my face. "Jesus Christ," she began as she pulled herself to sit up. Her movement was so quick that even watching made my temples writhe. "You look like hell."

"I feel like hell," I told her, downing the glass of water that was in my hand. "You didn't get drunk last night?"

"Well… no," Danielle replied with a frown. "You know how I feel about drinking. Sam and I talked for a while, and then we just came back to the motel to get some sleep. When did you and Dean even get back?"

"You'll know as soon as I do," I said with a shrug.

Danielle shook her head. "You need to be more careful. Who knows what happened between you two."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm pretty sure that, even drunk, Dean has a sense of what consent means. I doubt he would've ever agreed, even if I were agreeing. He may have a reputation for promiscuity, but I'm sure he's the kind who'd rather sleep with a sober girl than one who is completely blasted."

"You have too much faith in people."

I scoffed. "I'm sorry, have you met me? I have absolutely no faith in people, Dani. You should know that as well as anyone. I may not be happy about this situation, and I may not like the Winchesters, but I don't think they're rapists, either."

Danielle held up her hands. "Fair enough."

"Let's go see if they're awake."

"Oh, they are," Danielle told me. "Sam knocked on the door about an hour ago asking if we wanted to get breakfast. I didn't want to wake you. They said they'd just wait at the diner across the street for us."

I grimaced at nausea arising in my stomach. "Food sounds disgusting."

"Too bad," Danielle laughed. She changed quickly and grabbed my wrist, dragging me out of the room. "Let's go, alchie."

"Is that some sort of New Age-y slang for 'alcoholic?'"

"Something like that."

We entered the diner, noticing Sam and Dean sitting at a booth in the corner. Dean was shoving eggs into his mouth, which made me want to vomit. I couldn't understand how the hell he was able to eat after the intense amount of drinking that we did last night. Danielle, once again, dragged me along. When we got to the booth, she sat down next to Sam; leaving me trapped with Dean. I sat down slowly, frowning at the smell of the greasy food. I wanted to hurl on their plates. When I looked to Dean, he was staring at me. "What?"

"You look like crap," he told me.

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."

Dean shrugged. "I mean, if it's a sheep; call it a sheep."

I glowered at him. "Hey, how about your shut your mouth before the sheep fries you into mutton?"

"Someone's crabby today," he muttered, continuing to eat his breakfast contently.

Sam glanced between us before clearing his throat. "Okay, so, as I was saying… this town has become somewhat famous for its robbery-suicides. Just the other night, an employee at a local jewelry store cleaned out all of the merchandise, and was found dead via suicide in her bathtub this morning."

"That's weird," Danielle said, with Sam nodding in agreement.

"Why's that weird?" Dean asked, chewing on his bacon.

I took a breath. "Why rob your employers only to off yourself the same night?"

Sam nodded. "Exactly. I think it's worth looking into, anyway. We can at least go to rule out whether or this is actually our kind of thing."

Dean nodded a few times. "Yeah, okay. Let's go get all suited up and check it out."

Soon enough, we were on our way to the jewelry shop. It took a lot of fighting between all three of them in order to get me to agree to go—specifically because of the outfit I would be forced to wear. Even though I was technically a 'Hunter' now, I had never been the kind of Hunter to disguise myself as some agent of law the and question people. I had only ever been focused on finding my father, and I would have preferred to keep that focus on track.

When we arrived out of the jewelry store and went in to question the employees, I kept fidgeting with the jacket I was wearing. Danielle glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. "Jesus, Lex, will you chill?"

"Look, I never wanted to play dress-up. The three of you forced me into this godawful pantsuit. I'm not a monkey used for testing, okay? I am a human being, and this is stupid."

"Just act natural."

"Natural?" I mocked. "What's natural? I'm not an FBI agent, Danielle!"

She smacked my hand and smiled at a man as he approached. "Are you two also part of the FBI?" he asked.

Danielle flashed him a polite smile and held up her forged identification card. She pinched my thigh, and I held up mine as well. "That's right," she said to him. "I know this situation has been handled by your local police department, but we're here just following up. Can you tell us what you remember from the night you were robbed?"

"It wasn't a simple robbery," the man frowned. "A long-time time employee of ours was the one to do this. Her name was Helena, and it was… so odd. Helena was part of the family; you know? We were all one big family. A lot of us still don't understand what happened, or why it happened."

Danielle nodded. "I understand. Were there any casualties that night?"

The man furrowed his eyebrows. "Didn't you read my statement?"

"Of course I did. I'm just confirming the fact."

With a sigh, the man continued. "Well, she shot Edgar… he was our night watchman. I guess he caught her raiding the cases, but she took his gun and shot him in the face. I had to listen to him die… he had called my home. I still can't believe that any of this has happened."

"I'm sorry for what you all have been through," Danielle told him, offering a sympathetic smile. "Do you have any idea of why Helena would do this?"

"None whatsoever," he said with a sigh. "Why steal all of the jewelry? She didn't do anything with it. She went home and she… she committed suicide. She dropped a toaster into her bathwater. Why would you steal millions of dollars' worth of jewelry from your friends… your family… just to go home and die?"

I looked to Danielle, who was nodding to the man. "That is a fair point," she replied to him. "Well, thank you for your time, sir. We will be sure to keep you updated on the investigation as more comes to light."

We met up with Sam and Dean, comparing the information we received. Dean, however, was going on and on about some girl named 'Franny'. Sam and Danielle both looked irritated with him. "Dean, will you focus?" Sam asked with a shake of his head. "I swear; I can't take you anywhere."

"You're such a Debbie Downer, Sammy."

Sam rolled his eyes and redirected his attention to Danielle and I. "What did the manager tell you two?"

Danielle looked to him. "Well, he confirmed that Helena shot the security guard, and that she ended up killing herself when she returned home. How about you?"

Sam sighed. "About the same."

"Do you think this is anything besides a human who snapped?" I asked, looking between them.

"It's still worth looking into," Sam replied. "Besides, I think I might have found another place to check out. Same M.O., and everything."

"Sounds good," Dean butted in with a nod. "Where are we going?"

"Well, about a month ago, a bank was hit with, as I said, the same M.O. as here."

"Uh huh," Dean responded. "Name of the bank?"

"The Milwaukee National Trust," Sam told him, brushing his falling hair from his face. "There was a guard on duty when it was robbed—Ronald Reznick."

"Lemme guess, he was ganked?"

Sam shook his head. "That's what's surprising. He wasn't killed. He was knocked out, but he survived. The better news is that I have his address."

Dean patted Sam on the shoulder, grinning at him from ear-to-ear. "I knew you'd be useful for something, geek boy."

Sam glowered at Dean, making it quite apparent that this wasn't the first—nor would it be the last—time that his brother referred to him as 'geek boy'. After a moment, he shook his head dismissively. "Well, we should probably head out there as soon as possible. We need to figure out what is going before anyone else gets hurt."

Dean nodded, waving his hand; signaling for us to follow as he headed back to the Impala. We huddled inside of the car, and Dean began to drive towards Ronald Reznick's address. "Do you really think this is something supernatural, Sammy?"

"I don't know, but I'm not going to abandon this place until I know for certain."

"I swear, you're obsessed with saving the world, little brother."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "Aren't you?"

"Yes and no," Dean replied. "At the moment, I'm more worried about finding the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Of course, I'm down to save people here and there along the way, but the demon is our main goal. That son of a bitch has to pay for what he's done to our family."

"Have you even processed through Dad's death yet?"

The muscles in Dean's jaw tightened. "We're not going to talk about that, Sammy."

"Oh, Dean, c'mon. You can't avoid the subject forever. Look, I miss him, too, but you really need to talk about it. That's really the only way to understand your grief, and then try to work through it."

"Enough, Dr. Phil!" Dean snapped. "I said that we're not talking about Dad. Do you understand, Sam? I don't want to talk about it."

Danielle looked to him, then went back to listening to Sam and Dean's conversation. After a moment, she shifted her body towards me. "Sam has a point," she said quietly. "You should talk about it."

I shook my head. "There's nothing to talk about, Danielle."

She shook her head, clearly disappointed in the answer I knew that she had expected to begin with. "Of course there is. There's always something to talk about, especially when a parent dies. In your case, there's even more to be talked about. I know that it was, what, five years ago? But that doesn't mean you need to pretend like it never happened."

Growing frustrated with her, I rubbed at my temples. "I'm not pretending like nothing happened, Danielle. I acknowledge what happened every single day of my life. Why do you think I'm trying to find the monster that did it? I want to kill it. I wouldn't be able to do that if I were pretending as though he had never died, now could I?"

"Okay, point taken. Regardless, though, Lex… I know how traumatic it was for you, and that's exactly why you should talk about it."

"You have no idea how traumatic it was," I replied darkly, turning my head to glare at her. "You weren't there, and you've never lost a parent like that."

Hurt split across Danielle's expression. "I lost my parents, too, Lex. You know that."

I nodded. "Yeah, I do, but you weren't there to witness them dying. You were at a party with that idiot Michael Westell."

"That's not fair."

"It is fair! You were out getting laid when your parents died. I was at home. I was sitting on the couch with my father when that thing barged into the living room. I was there when it dug its talons into his belly. I saw when his guts poured onto the white carpet. I was there when he reached out to me and asked me for help. I was there when I did nothing and watched him die."

Danielle shifted away from me and looked out the window. She was angry with me now. Frankly, I was angry with me, too. I should have never brought up Michael Westell, and I should have never held her activity that night over her head. I suppose we do stupid things when we're angry. "You can be such an asshole sometimes."

I turned away slowly, watching the blurs of scenery rush by. "I know."

Sam Winchester knocked on the front door of Ronald Reznick's home several times. "Excuse me, this is the Federal Bureau of Investigation, please open up!" He knocked several more times; harder and louder. "Ronald Reznick!"

After minutes of knocking and calling, an overweight man with shoulder-length hair approached the door. He opened it, but left the glass porch door closed and locked. "Who are you?" he asked. "What do you want?"

Sam flashed Ronald a smile. "Good evening, Mr. Reznick. We're with the FBI. We've come to ask you a few questions."

The man furrowed his eyebrows, then shook his head briefly. "I already gave my statement to the police."

"That's right," Sam nodded. "We're just following up with that statement."

"So… you've come to hear what I have to say?" Ronald asked, shifting his weight skeptically. "Nobody believed me before."

"Well, we're not like everybody. We handle sensitive and unusual cases. So, please, if you would let us in; we can go over your statement."

"Let me see your IDs!"

The four of us flashed our forged badges, which prompted Ronald to allow us into his home. We followed him back into a room with several computers, where he turned back to us. "Well, firstly, let me tell you this—Juan Morales; he never robbed the bank."

"How is that?" Danielle asked, tilting her head at him.

Ronald held up his index finger before fumbling with a tape, pushing it into his VCR. "Whoever—or whatever—I let into the bank that night; it wasn't Juan. See, it looked exactly like him, but it wasn't him. I had a feeling from the moment I first saw him that something was off, but I obviously wasn't about to accuse him of being a fraud." Ronald laughed awkwardly before pressing his lips together when none of us laughed. "Uh… anyway, I don't even think it was human."

"What do you think it was?" Dean asked him.

"Thank you for asking!" Ronald exclaimed, excited to be getting some recognition. He grabbed a magazine and held it up. "Man-droid," he informed us matter-of-factly. "The Chinese have been working on them for years. I guess they finally implemented them, huh? Here, I'll prove it." The man turned and play the tape, which was surveillance footage from the night that Juan Morales had supposedly robbed the bank. "Look, look!" he demanded, nearly jumping up and down. "There!" He paused the tape, revealing Juan Morales' eyes to be white as he had turned his head towards the camera. "He even has the laser eyes! Last time I knew; Juan didn't have laser eyes."

Dean nodded slowly, covering his mouth with his hand so that he could chuckle subtly. Sam pursed his lips before standing up. "Mr. Reznick," he began. "Listen to me very closely, okay?"

Ronald nodded his head slowly.

"There is no such thing as man-droid," Sam told him, Ronald's expression falling quickly. "That man is Juan Morales. He robbed the bank, and those 'laser eyes' are nothing but a camera flare. Do you understand me?"

The man's face grew as red as a tomato. "No!" he burst out. "No, that is not Juan Morales! Juan Morales was a good man who would have never robbed that bank! He loved those people—he loved us! And he surely wouldn't have gone home and killed himself afterward!"

I stepped forward, wanting to try my hand at roleplaying. "Mr. Reznick, we understand that you are very upset. You do not want to believe that your friend could do such a heinous thing, but unfortunately, that is what happened. Sometimes people snap, and that is nobody's fault. I believe you're trying to rationalize something you don't understand into something too farfetched to be believable. Sure, you believe it, but you're hurt and confused. We're sorry to have to bear the bad news to you while you're in such a fragile state, but my colleague is right. Juan Morales robbed that bank, and those are not laser eyes."

Ronald Reznick's face flushed an unimaginable shade of red as anger rushed through him. He threw a pointed finger towards the door. "You get the hell out of my house!"

As Danielle, Sam, and Dean began to shuffle out of the house, I flashed Ronald one last quick smile. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Reznick."

Once we exited the house and went back to the Impala, Dean began to drive back to our motel. A large portion of the ride was held in awkward silence before Dean began to shake his head. "You two were harsh with the poor guy."

Sam looked towards his elder brother. "Dean, man-droids don't exist."

"Well, yeah Sam, I know that. You didn't have to be such a douche, though. Neither did you, Lex."

I shrugged as I stared out the window. "He's a civilian. He doesn't need to get himself involved in something that he knows nothing about."

"Doesn't mean he won't," Dean replied. "Oh—what was with that psychoanalyzing moment going on there? You sounded like you were a therapist, or something."

I pressed my lips into a thin line. "Back in Connecticut—you saw my pills, did you not?"

"Well, yeah."

"You don't just find antipsychotic prescription drugs on a street corner, Dean. Having those pills means that I've been to see a psychiatrist, does it not?"

Dean turned his eyes back to the road. "I'd still like to know why you're even prescribed antipsychotics."

Sam jerked his attention to his brother. "Dean."

"What? It's a valid question, Sammy. I'd like to know if we're traveling with Norman Bates or not."

"It's still none of your business," I hissed. "I'm not Norman Bates, or Patrick Bateman, or any other psychotic character from films that you could possibly compare me to. I'm an average person who has some issues, okay? Is that enough for you?"

"No, actually, it's not. You could be a whack job."

"So could you, but you don't hear me badgering you and accusing you of being a psychopath."

"I'm going to keep questioning you about those pills until you tell me."

Danielle kicked the back of Dean's seat. "Will you give it a rest? I've known Lex my whole life, and she is not psychotic. She went through a traumatic experience, and that doesn't just go away. So, shut your mouth, and stop being a jackass."

Sam bit down on his lip to avoid laughing. Though, it couldn't be contained for long. He began chuckling after so long, shaking his head. "Roasted on a spit."

Back at the motel, the four of us gathered in Sam and Dean's room in order gather as much information as possible before setting on our journey to the bank for on-hand investigation. I sat across from Danielle at the table in the room, looking through newspaper articles about the town. After an hour or so of reading, I set the newspapers aside. "If I have to read any more of that tiny print, I'm going to rip my eyeballs out of their sockets."

Danielle grimaced. "God, Lex, don't be so gross."

I leaned back against the chair, letting out a heavy sigh. "What is the plan for tomorrow, anyway? I don't think we can continue walking around acting like we're a team of four FBI agents. It's unrealistic, and someone is going to see straight through it eventually."

"It's not like there's much else to do," Danielle countered. "We need to be there, too. What disguise could we possibly use besides that?"

I paused and narrowed my eyes thoughtfully. I leaned forward and began to shuffle through the papers again, finding the most recent one. I turned the print in her direction and pointed to a small column. "The City Bank of Milwaukee—our next suspected target—is hiring," I said as a small smirk spread across my face. "Instead of dressing up like FBI, or whatever, you and I can pretend to be prospective employees. We're there for an interview. We're there—we see everything… but we're invisible. Nothing suspect."

Danielle took a moment to think about my words before smiling brightly. "Shit!" she exclaimed. "Lexanna Raen—you are a genius!"

I flipped my hair jokingly. "Why thank you."

Sam turned away from his laptop, directing the front of his body towards us. "What did you say?"

I cocked an eyebrow. "That Danielle and I could dress up like interviewees?"

Sam shook his head. "No, not that—and not you. Danielle, what did you say?"

Danielle blinked at Sam. "That she was a genius?"

"No," Sam said again. "Raen… is that your last name?"

"Yeah, it is. Lexanna Raen—that's me. Why?"

"Are you, by any chance, related to Vercillo Raen?"

It felt as though a knife was plunged into my stomach. "He was my father. He died… how did you know his name?"

Suddenly, Dean turned. "Your dad was Vercillo Raen?"

"Once again, yes. How the hell do you two even know that?"

Sam glanced to his brother. "Well, Dean and I met him before. He knew our father pretty well, actually."

I started to feel dizzy. "What? No—that's… how is that even possible?"

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow. "Well, Vercillo was a Hunter. He was a damn good one, too. A lot of people held him in higher regard than our dad, actually. Good guy, too. From what I remember."

I swiftly pushed away from my chair—fury rushing through my veins. "No," I said forcefully. "No, my father was not a Hunter. That's not possible. I would have known that!"

Dean held his hands up. "Well, hey, all I'm saying is what I know. Vercillo Raen was a Hunter."

The world began shrinking rapidly. The walls were closing in on me, willing to crush me at any given moment. My heart began to palpitate, and it became hard to breathe. I pressed a hand to the side of my head, trying to ignore the sudden influx of screaming voices flooding into my mind. I felt as though I were drowning—sinking deeper and deeper into a bottomless sea of darkness. I could see Danielle, Sam, and Dean congregated around me with concern etched into their expressions. They were speaking, but I could not hear. Sam reached out for me, but I could not feel. I began to feel so small—so nonexistent. The abyss, unforgiving and brutal, started to consume me. There was no return.

I opened my eyes, setting my eyes on the first thing I saw—which was the ceiling. In that moment, I had forgotten where I was—who I was. I shifted my gaze around, noticing that I was still in Sam and Dean's motel room. Danielle, however, was nowhere to be found. My eyes fell upon Dean, who was sitting near the bed, in a chair. I took a few short breaths, swallowing dryness into my throat. "What's going on?"

Dean jerked his attention to me. He was dressed in a navy jumpsuit. "You passed out," he answered. "Last night. It's about midday now."

"Why?" I asked, feeling confused.

"Well, I told you that your dad was a Hunter."

I nodded slowly. "Right," I said, though absently. "Right," I said again, beginning to understand now. I sat up on the bed, taking a breath. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Dean looked down to himself. "Oh. Sammy and I are disguising ourselves as workers for the bank's security system. Figured it was a little more inconspicuous than FBI."

"Shit—I was out that long? We need to go."

Dean held a hand up. "Not so fast, sister. We need to talk."

I shook my head. "About what? There are more important things to worry about."

"The fact that you wig out every three seconds."

"I do not 'wig out' every three seconds."

"Okay, fair," Dean nodded. "However, this thing—whatever it is—seems to happen a lot."

"We don't have time for this, Dean."

"Oh, no, I think we do. I get that you're all locked and safe, but this isn't normal, and it's about time we figured out what the hell is going on with you. You're like a bomb; waiting to explode at any moment."

I glowered at him. "Thanks."

"I'm not trying to be a douche," Dean said, holding his hands up. "I'm just worried."

I pulled myself away from the bed and crossed my arms over my chest. "I'm prescribed an antipsychotic, Dean. Put the pieces together."

"So, what? You're psychotic?"

"It's not that simple. When I was twenty, I went to see a psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with schizophrenia. Naturally, schizophrenia requires a prescription."

"Am I supposed to feel all comfy and cozy after hearing that?"

"Jesus, Dean, I'm not crazy. It's a mental illness—the same as depression, or alcoholism. Only, it's a little more complex. I'm sorry that it's gotten your panties in a twist, but it's a fact, so accept it. You're going to have to deal with it—and me—one way or another."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but I held my hand up. "We can talk about this later, Dean. Or never. Like I said, we have more important things to worry about. Now, I'm going to go back to my room and get dressed so we can go. I'm sorry that you feel uncomfortable with me."

Once we arrived at the City Bank of Milwaukee, Dean parked the Impala in a nearby parking garage, just in case we needed to make a quick escape without our covers being completely exposed. We stood several meters away from the bank, huddled together in a circle.

"Here's the plan," Sam began, looking between the three of us. "Dean and I are going to go in first. We'll need access to the security monitors as soon as possible. Danielle and Lex, I think you two should stay behind for about thirty minutes. We don't want to go in too close together. People probably wouldn't notice, but given that they possibly could; it's better to be safe. Everybody got it?"

Danielle raised her hand. "What the hell are Lex and I supposed to do for half an hour while you two are cozied on up to the monitors? Are we just supposed to stand here?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Go get something to eat, or talk about climate change. I don't know. You'll figure it out. We're gonna go in now. Thirty minutes, right?"

Danielle rolled her eyes and waved her hand at them dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Thirty minutes."

Sam and Dean moved away from us and towards the bank. I moved to sit on the curb, carding a hand through my hair. Danielle took a spot next to me, and cleared her throat awkwardly.

"So," she began, "what should we do?"

"It doesn't matter to me."

With a sigh, she turned her head towards me. "I think we should talk."

"Talk about what?"

"Our issues. There seems to be a lot of them."

I snorted. "If you want to delve into all of the issues we have; I think we're going to need more than thirty minutes, Danielle."

"Okay, so half an hour turns into one hour. What difference does it make?"

I looked to her. "Well, everybody could be dead in an hour."

Danielle shook her head. "I think Sam and Dean are a little more capable than that, Lex."

I looked away from her. "I can't really say that I'm in the heart-to-heart kind of mood right now, Dani."

"That's always the best time to have one," she rebutted, nudging me with her elbow. "What's bothering you?"

"Dean is bothering me," I admitted. "He asked me, again, about the pills. He wasn't going to let it go, so I told him the truth."

"And?"

"And he pretty much thinks I'm a complete psycho now."

Danielle frowned. "What makes you think that?"

"He called me crazy, Danielle. I think that's enough evidence to assume that he's uncomfortable being around me, and thinks that I'm some sort of mental nut job who's going to snap and go on a killing spree."

Danielle's expression split into anger. "Oh, I could kill him. I'm going to kick his ass."

I chuckled, and shook my head. "I appreciate the sentiment, Dani, but I don't think that's necessary. I understand why he's uncomfortable. Hell, I'm uncomfortable."

"That doesn't give him the right to be a judgmental asshole, Lex. You're a human being with feelings, and you deserve to be treated as such. Diagnosis or not, you're still a person."

I looked to her, studying her irate expression before closing my eyes. "I don't really care about how he perceives me."

Danielle scoffed. "Yes, you do."

"I don't."

"Lex, if you didn't care about his perception of you; this wouldn't bother you so much. However, it does. That says something."

"Are you insinuating that I have the hots for Dean?"

"No!" she laughed. "No, Lex. You don't have to be romantically interested in someone in order to care about how the think and feel about you."

"No? What do you have to be, then?"

Danielle turned her head towards me, offering a soft smile. "Human."

I shook my head, denying her words silently. From the second my father had died, I stopped caring about anything—about everything. Nothing mattered after that day, and I intended to uphold that feeling of utter apathy. "Dean can think I'm crazy if he wants to. I don't care about what anyone thinks of me—especially not someone like Dean Winchester. I stopped caring a long time ago."

Danielle sighed, almost dramatically. "I'm sorry that you lost your dad, Lex, but you don't have to let his death stop you from being human. You're allowed to feel things, you know. You're allowed to like and dislike people. You're allowed to move on."

I snapped my attention to her. "So, what, do you just expect me to drop my mission and just accept the fact that my father was murdered? To forgive and forget and pretend that my life is sunshine and rainbows?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Danielle replied defensively. "You don't always have to be okay, but you don't have to live in a constant state of agony, Lex. I can see how miserable you are, because I can see you. Anyone who looks at you is able to see how exhausted you are. You don't have to keep soldiering on. You're allowed to let go."

"Have you let go of your parents' deaths?"

"Lex, don't be cruel."

"I'm not being cruel, Danielle. I'm asking you a question. Have you let go?"

Danielle sighed. "Yes," she answered. "I have let go, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt sometimes."

"No offense, Dani—I know I'm going to sound like a dick—but this isn't exactly the same situation. Your parents died in a house fire. It was an accident. There was nothing you could have done to prevent that… but my dad? His death wasn't accidental. He didn't die in a fire—he was murdered. I could have prevented that, but I didn't. I have to live every single day of my life knowing that my dying father reached out to me and asked me to help him. I have to live my life knowing that I stood there, gawking at him, while his intestines poured onto the carpet. That's not something you just let go of."

"You can't blame yourself forever, Lexanna. Your dad's death wasn't your fault, even if you believe it was. You would have died, too. It's a miracle that you didn't die as it were. Vercillo wouldn't want you to go down this path of retribution, or revenge, or whatever you claim it to be. He would want you to move on and be happy."

"How the hell do you know what he would want, Danielle? I don't even know what he would want. And you know why? Because he's not here. He doesn't want anything anymore. He's dead. He's in a coffin, rotting, and suffocating underneath the dirt."

"Lex—"

"—where the hell were you, Danielle?" I was staring at her, furious. My fists were balled, my body was shaking, and tears were welling in my eyes. "I needed you, and you fucked off!"

Danielle turned away from me, pained. "I couldn't do it anymore, okay? I had to get away. That lifestyle was killing me, and I was scared shitless. I found myself thrust into a life I never knew existed. There were so many things that I didn't understand, and they frightened me. Ghosts, and vampires, and demons—I couldn't cope with it. I just couldn't do it. So, I left. I am so sorry that I left."

"I'm sorry, too," I hissed. "I'm sorry because you abandoned me. Don't you think that I was afraid, too? That I was overwhelmed? I didn't know the lifestyle existed either, Danielle! You weren't the only person who had ever been scared and confused, so what gave you the right to give up and abandon me?"

"I thought I was doing the right thing at the time… for myself."

"You're so fucking selfish, Danielle."

"I'm selfish because I took myself out of a dangerous situation that I was uncomfortable with?!"

"You're selfish because you didn't stop to think about the people you'd be hurting in the process! Once you've hurt someone, Danielle, you don't get to decide that you didn't."

"Are you ever going to forgive me?"

Bitterly, I laughed. "I don't think you deserve to be forgiven."

"That's not fair!"

"Yeah, well, life isn't fair, now is it?"

"You think I was selfish? You should look at yourself in the mirror."

"Oh, fuck you, Danielle. You broke my heart more than it was already broken. Do you think that's forgivable? I needed you, and you fucking left. You didn't even leave a note. You were just gone—like you had never existed."

"I don't know how many times I can say that I'm sorry."

"At least once more," I replied blankly. "You haven't said it that much. I don't even know if you mean it."

"Of course I mean it, Lex. Jesus Christ, this is ridiculous. I don't want to fight with you. Especially right now."

I laughed irritably. "You're the one that wanted to talk through our problems. It's too late to retract that statement."

We spent the next several moments in complete silence. It was probably for the better, anyhow. We both needed to regain our cool. Our temperaments were getting too hot, and there was no telling how long it would've been before we were full blown fist-fighting each other. After a moment, Danielle drew in a sharp breath. "I'm sorry, Lex. I should've never left you."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Danielle. It's a sore subject."

"Okay," she sighed. "Alright, what should we talk about?"

"We could talk about the fact that I haven't looked at myself since I was nineteen."

Danielle stared at me. "What?"

I chuckled, though not humorously. "I haven't looked in a mirror since I was nineteen-years-old. Isn't that wild? I always cover them. With sheets, or clothes, or pillowcases. Whatever I can get my hands on."

"Why do you do that?"

"Looking in the mirror isn't exactly an appealing thought when you're repulsed by what you see."

"You deserve better than that, Lex."

"No," I denied. "I don't."

Danielle growled under her breath, and then grabbed onto me, forcing my body to turn towards hers. "This self-hatred shit needs to stop, Lexanna. You're driving me crazy?"

I scoffed, loudly. "I'm supposed to stop hating myself because it bothers you? Look, Danielle, I know it's been a long time since we've really been around each other, but I thought that you knew me better than anyone. I have issues, and I think you know that. I'm not going to pretend like I don't, and I'm surely not just going to shove them away, because it doesn't work that way. If I'm such an inconvenience on your life, and state of mind, then go ahead and leave… wouldn't be the first time."

"Jesus, Lex—"

I waved my hand at her when my cell phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I answered the call, and put the speaker to my ear. "Hello?"

"Where the hell are you two?!"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Dean?"

"No, it's Pennywise the Clown. Beep, beep, Richie—you want a balloon?"

I rolled my eyes. "What's going on?"

"You two need to get in here right the hell now. Shit has hit the fan, okay? Ronald Reznick is here, and he's holding everyone hostage. We still can't find the shifter, and we're getting ready to lock people in the vault. Sneak around the back."

I hung up the phone and pulled Danielle to stand up, and dragged her behind me. "We need to go," I told her. "The situation in there has gotten worse."

Danielle and I hurried around the bank, where Sam was standing with the door propped open. He ushered us inside, then shut and locked the door behind us. We jogged throughout the bank before we reached Dean and Ronald. When Ronald saw us, he turned his gun quickly towards us. "Hey, you're the lady who tried to Dr. Phil me!"

I flashed a smile. "Nice to see you again, Ronald."

Dean held his hand atop Ronald's gun. "Hey, Ron, chill out. They're with us. They're our… partners, I guess?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, we are. What's going on?"

"It's the bank manager," Sam replied. "We're about to go look for him. Hopefully catch him before he shifts again."

"Well, what the hell are we waiting for?" Danielle asked. "Let's go!"

We split apart, with Sam and Danielle going to lock the civilians, including Sam, into the vault, and Danielle proceeded to search one end of the bank while Dean, Ronald and I searched the other end. We scoured our half before breaking into the manager's office. I looked down to the skin shed on the floor, grimacing. "Great."

Ronald looked to the pile of goo, horrified. "What the hell is that?!"

Dean turned towards Ronald, flashing a fake smile. "Remember when I told you that it's not a man-droid? Well, it's not. This thing is called a shapeshifter. They shed their skin when they become someone else. Meaning that he's no longer the bank manager, and we don't know who it is."

"You're crazy!" Ronald exclaimed.

"No, Ronald," I denied. "We're not."

"Listen to me, Ron," Dean said, turning to him. "This has turned into a very dangerous situation, and you need to follow every single thing that we say, okay? We're going to keep you safe, but you need to cooperate. Can you do that?"

Ronald stared at him in disbelief, but nodded his head shortly afterward. "Yeah, I-I think I can do that."

"Good," Dean nodded. "Now, let's find Danielle, and get Sam. We need try and get back to the cameras. That's the only way to know who it is."

Before we headed out of the manager's office, I grabbed onto the silver letter opener that was sitting on the desk. We then left the office, pausing when the electricity inside of the bank was shut off. I glanced towards the windows, noticing the blue and red light flashing from police cars parked outside. "Shit. The cops are here."

Dean looked over, growling lowly in his throat. "Dandy," he said, shaking his head. He looked over to Ronald, who looked as though he felt guilty. "Don't worry about it so much, Ron. You were just trying to help. You were stupid about it, but you thought you were doing the best you could."

Ronald nodded to him before glancing around, laughing quietly to himself. Dean and I looked over to him, staring as his laughter became louder, and more intense. I cocked an eyebrow at him, pursing my lips momentarily. "Uh, you okay over there, Ron? You sound a little nutty."

I chose to ignore the pointed look that Dean gave me, keeping my eyes on Ronald. "That's the thing," he said. "I'm not nuts. There really is something going on here… I was right! I mean, except for the whole man-droid thing. Thanks for that, by the way, but… it's satisfying to know that you haven't gone completely bonkers!"

I nodded my head slowly and dramatically. "Yeah… yeah, that is comforting."

Dean looked out the window, shaking his head. "Dammit. You know, they probably have us surrounded," he said.

"No doubt," I agreed, looking over as a couple of stray civilians reared their heads. I shook my head, going over to them with Dean and Ronald trailing after us. "Alright, to the vaults with you guys."

We rounded up the remaining civilians, going to the vault to lock them in. We brought Sam outside, locking the others in again. I glanced around, furrowing my eyebrows. "Where's Danielle?"

However, Dean and Sam didn't acknowledge me, as they were having a conversation of their own. "Cops?" Sam asked, leaning his head back. "Great. You know, Dean, you're wanted by the police."

I looked over to them, furrowing my eyebrows. "What?"

Dean looked over, flashing a smile. "Yeah, I am. There was another shifter in St. Louis a while back. Took on my identity… I'm wanted now."

"Well, that's just awesome! How comforting." I shook my head, looking around again. "Where the hell is Danielle?"

"Hey, it's okay," Sam said in a soft tone. "We'll look for her. We can talk about our game-plan while we do."

We then began to scour the bank in search of Danielle. Sam looked between Dean and me. "So, guys, what the hell are we going to do? We can't exactly just let the cops in, considering Dean's situation. Not to mention, we'll never find the shapeshifter that way."

"We need to worry less about the police and more about the shapeshifter," I said, looking over to him. "We need to take care of it, or we might never find it. Plus, more people are definitely going to get hurt unless we find the damn thing. The shifter isn't even our only problem. Besides the police, Danielle also happens to be missing."

Ronald looked between us. "Well, what if the shapeshifter got her?"

I pointed my index finger at him. "No," I said. "No, it didn't. You understand me? If the shapeshifter got Danielle, then she's dead. And she's not."

Ronald shrugged slowly. "I mean… she might be."

Dean held his hand up to Ronald, shaking his head. "Not a thing to say, man. She's a bit unhinged."

Sam frowned over to his brother. "What'd you say?"

I glared over to Dean, rubbing the back of my neck. "Alright, Dean. We need to deal with this once and for all. Do you think that I'm crazy? That I'm dangerous?"

"Can't say the thought hadn't crossed my mind," Dean said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam asked. "What's this about?"

"I told him about my pills," I answered. "That I'm prescribed antipsychotics because of the fact that I was diagnosed with schizophrenia four years ago."

Sam looked over to his brother, glowering at him. "Why would you think that she's crazy, Dean? She's a normal person—there's nothing wrong with him. You're so insensitive."

Dean threw his brother a scowl. "Schizophrenia doesn't exactly make her a normal person, Sam. Isn't that the definition of schizophrenia? Craziness? Excuse the hell out of me for not trusting someone that, for all intents and purposes, is certifiable!"

For some reason, his words stabbed through me like a sword. I could feel my heart aching my chest. I swiped tears from my eyes with my thumb. Sam moved forward to hug me, but I jerked away from him. Dean sighed quietly, turning towards me. "Lex, I'm—"

"Fuck you, Dean." I moved away from them, turning and walking away.

Instead of helping Ronald and the brothers, I decided to look for Danielle myself. I didn't know why I should involve myself with people who didn't trust me, and would rather have insulted me than get to know me as a person. I was looking through storage rooms, searching for my friend, when I turned and bumped into someone. I withdrew the silver letter opener, defensively, only to relax when I realized it was Adalcus. "Jesus Christ."

Adalcus's lips twitched. "Not quite."

I rolled my eyes at him. "You scared me," I said, tucking the weapon away. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You are thinking about leaving," Adalcus said, pressing his lips into a thin line afterward.

"Can you get out of my head? There's pretty much no room for you in here," I hissed, turning to look for Danielle again. "Yeah, I am thinking about leaving. What of it?"

"You cannot."

"Look, Adalcus, I realize that you're hardcore pushing for this whole 'destiny' bullshit, but I'm not going to spend my time with someone who thinks that I'm a loose cannon. Doesn't exactly feel great."

Adalcus followed me with his hands folded peacefully behind his back. "I thought you had no regard for the thoughts others have of you?"

I shook my head, moving into another storage room. "I don't, but I can't say that being called 'crazy' is an awesome feeling."

"You are not insane."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Very well," Adalcus began, moving in front of me. "You do not have schizophrenia."

I crossed my arms over my chest, looking up to him. "No?"

"No," Adalcus said, watching me with his maroon eyes. "That is why your medicine does not work. You are not schizophrenic."

"What am I, then?" I asked, but Adalcus just watched me silently. "Let me guess—that's just another thing you can't tell me, right?"

Adalcus gave me a sympathetic smile. "Indeed."

"You know, I really can't deal with your cryptic bullshit anymore."

"I know that it frustrates you, Lexanna. However, it is a simple fact. There are things I have sworn to keep secret. In fact, you know things that I already should not have told you."

"Well, I'm about done with it—you and the Winchesters both. I have more important things I could be worrying about right now. Like, I don't know, my father? He's my main priority, not Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Revenge is a futile path, Lexanna. It will bring you no satisfaction."

"Well, agree to disagree, yeah?"

Adalcus frowned. "For once, will you listen to me?"

"Maybe," I shrugged. "Not today, though. If you're going to be here, make yourself useful and help me find Danielle."

Adalcus shook his head, watching me with his uncomfortable, unfaltering gaze. "You will learn what you wish to one day, Lexanna. You should not be too eager for the knowledge. You may not enjoy what you find out."

"Yeah, I get. 'The truth hurts.'"

Adalcus shook his head. "Danielle is in the closet across the hall."

When I turned back, the demon was gone. "Okay, Batman," I grumbled, moving to the closet across the hall. When I opened the door, I saw that Danielle had been knocked unconscious—presumably by the shapeshifter. I cursed under my breath and knelt before her, shaking her gently. After a few moments, she opened her eyes and shot confused eyes around the room.

"What happened?"

I shrugged. "Shifter probably knocked out," I said as I stood and offered my hand to her. I helped her stand, and sighed when she asked where Sam, Dean, and Ronald were. "Hell if I know."

Danielle frowned. "What happened now?"

"Dean still thinks I'm mental."

"Oh, Lex… he'll get over it."

"Well, I don't really want to sit with my thumb up my ass while he decides whether or not I deserve to be treated like a person."

Danielle shook her head. "I think you're the most stubborn human being I have ever met."

"The Winchesters are a waste of my time, Danielle. The only thing they're doing is causing me to stray away from my path. Everyone seems to be trying to do that."

"Well, Lex, there's a reason for that."

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

"The path you're going down is, first of all, suicidal, but most of all—fruitless."

"I'm really fucking glad that you all think that the only thing I care about is pointless."

Danielle sighed, heavily. "We can talk about this later, Lex. We need to find the brothers."

Danielle and I maneuvered through the hallways. As we entered the main lobby again, a tall man shoved past us, knocking me onto the floor. I looked up, watching as Danielle ran for Ronald. "Get down!" Danielle shouted at him, but immediately afterward, he was shot in the back by a sniper. His body collapsed onto the floor, but Danielle kept running for him.

"Danielle!" I screamed. "Danielle, get out of the light!"

Another bullet broke through the window, clipping Danielle's side. She slammed into the ground, pressing her hand over the wound. I felt panic rush through me, but I stayed where I was. "No," I muttered to myself. "Not again."

I crawled over to her quickly and pulled her away from the window, underneath a counter. I watched as a bullet rip the spot where I had been only a few seconds ago. I shook my head, watching Sam rush past.

Dean reached for Ronald's gun, then slid it over to me. "Keep her safe. I have to get a hostage out. He's having a heart attack."

I nodded to him, moving to press my hand to Danielle's side. I looked down to her, trying as best as I could to maintain my composure. "It'll be okay," I told her, nodding. I glanced around the bank before closing my eyes, focusing on Adalcus, trying to summon him.

Shortly afterward, Adalcus appeared. A bullet shot through his shoulder, but he knelt before us, seeming unfazed. He glanced to his shirt, pursing his lips. "Shame," he said. "This is one of my favorites," he said before grasping onto Danielle. "Be careful, Lexanna." He then disappeared with her.

I took a few deep breaths, nodding my head. "You're okay," I whispered to myself. "Danielle's okay." I forced myself to stand, careful of the light shining through the window as I tried to regroup with Dean.

He moved down the stairs, nodding to me. "We're so screwed," he said, before glancing to where I had previous been with Danielle. "Where did she go?"

I shook my head. "It's a long story for another time."

As he opened his mouth to speak, his phone began to ring. He answered it, exchanged a few words with Sam, before shutting it and tucking it into his pocket again. "Shifter slipped his skin again. Workers are out of the vault. C'mon, we need to go play shepherd."

I followed after him, holding onto Ronald's gun tightly as I did. As we walked, I glanced over to him. "I'm not crazy."

Dean rubbed his forehead briefly before turning his head to look at me. "Yeah… sorry about that."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd stop being an asshole."

"I'm being an asshole?"

"Well, I know I haven't exactly been Mrs. Brady, but yeah, you're being an asshole. I'm not crazy, and what you say hurts my feelings."

"You didn't strike me as the type to let anything hurt you."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "Didn't think I was, either, but… I am, admittedly, human."

Dean nodded to me. "Right, yeah. I'm sorry."

When we found the workers that had made their way out of the vault, we carefully rounded them back inside. I stood off to the side, listening as Dean and a worker named 'Sheri' had a brief conversation. I glanced to the phone as it began to ring, then looked back to Dean, gesturing with my head for him to answer it. I then moved to guard the vault, looking to Sheri, who looked back at me uneasily. "I thought you were the good guys."

I looked ahead, pressing my lips together before shrugging. "We are the good guys, Sheri. You wouldn't understand if we tried to explain."

"The good guys wouldn't herd us in here like cattle."

"It's for your own safety. You may not believe that, but that's the truth."

After a moment, Dean approached me. "The Feds are here," he told me. "Said they were coming in an hour, no matter what. They know about Sam and I. Luckily, neither you nor Danielle have been implicated yet. We'll try and keep it that way."

"They'll come in sooner than an hour," I said.

Dean nodded. "I know."

Sam approached us, waving his hand at Dean as he told him that we have a problem. "There's a problem in the vault. I just found the younger female employee's body."

Dean sighed and nodded. "Got it," he said, before bringing Sheri out of the vault.

We led her into the office where Sam had found her counterpart's body. As soon as she noticed it, she began to panic. She struggled against Sam's grip and screamed at the sight. As soon as Sam released her arm, she fell to the ground, unconscious.

I watched her for a moment, pressing my lips together. I grabbed Dean's arm before he stabbed a silver letter opener into her chest. "This doesn't make," I said. "What would her advantage be? Fainting wouldn't exactly stop us from killing her, now would it?"

Sam nodded. "Fair point."

Dean stuck his lower lip out and nodded. He then moved back to Sheri's corpse, studying it carefully. "Huh," he grunted. "That is weird."

We looked back towards the door when he heard glass smashing from the front of the bank. I cursed under my breath. "They're in."

Sheri's corpse then sprung alive, clutching her hands onto Dean's throat and squeezing it tightly. I moved forward, waving at Sam. "Get Sheri out of here!" I ordered before dropping to my knees, trying to stab the shapeshifter with my own letter opener. The shifter balled its fist and struck me across the face, leaped forward, and ran out of the office.

I followed Dean as he ran after it. I turned the corner, watching briefly as they struggled with each other's force. I jerked hand down, slashing the shifter with the letter opener. It turned on me and lunged, slamming my head back into the ground. I grunted and grabbed my head, disoriented from the blow. Dean tackled the shifter off of me, proceeding to wrestle with it as he tried desperately to drive the blade into its heart.

I lifted myself up slowly; uneasily. I tightened my hold on the letter opener, trying to force my eyes to focus as the two jerked around and slammed each other into walls. As the shifter had Dean pinned up against the wall, and was ready to turn the weapon on him, I lurched forward, driving the tip of the letter opener into its neck.

The shifter fell back to the ground, incapacitated for the moment. I dropped on top of it, hissing as it used its fingernails to slice my neck open. I lifted the letter opener above my head, then drove it back down, stabbing the monster directly in the heart. I panted as it went still, losing the life from its eyes.

Dean rubbed his neck uncomfortably, looking at me with surprise in his expression. "Well," he nodded. "You're a lot more badass than I would've originally thought."

I laughed breathlessly, looking over to him. "Come on, we need to get the hell out of here. However, as we turned, a SWAT member turning the flashlight on his rifle towards us. We both stared, slowly putting our hands above our heads.

The man shook his head, and then pulled his faceguard down. "It's me," Sam said. He tossed the both of us SWAT uniforms. "Good way to blend in," he said. "Let's go."

Dean and I dressed in the uniforms as quickly as we could. We then rejoined the masses, trying our best to blend it. The entire moment was heavily tense. We were maneuvering around people who, had they known our true identities, wouldn't have waited a single moment to kill us. As we 'cleared' rooms, I watched Special Agent Victor Henriksen weave between the SWAT team, looking around wearily. I held onto my rifle tightly, glancing to Sam and Dean, subtly nodding my head towards the door. We moved away, acting as though we were going to clear some more rooms. However, we carefully, but swiftly, made our way out of the bank and to the parking garage where the Impala was. Once we arrived at the car and piled in, assuring our safety, we removed our head guards. We spent the next few minutes in silence.

Dean was the first one to speak. "We are so screwed," he said.

"They'll know now," I said, after a moment.

Sam turned around to look at me. "Know what?"

"That you guys have a third partner. They'll find the men you restrained, and there will three. I've officially been implicated."

Dean shook his head. "Not your identity," he said. "Just your presence."

I scoffed. "Well, that's comforting."

The elder Winchester brother shook his head, and then started the car. He veered out of the parking spot, then pulled quickly out of the parking garage. I stared out the window, shaking my head. I knew that joining the Winchesters was going to be a bad idea—and my thoughts had just been proven.