Here's to us

Here's to love

All the times

That we messed up

Here's to you

Fill the glass

Cause the last few nights

Have kicked my ass

If they give you hell

Tell em to go fuck themselves

Here's to us

Here's to us


Two Days Ago

October 22nd, 2006

Café—Morning

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

Dean and I sat outside at a café table waiting on Sam to return with our drinks. The sun was out, little to no clouds in the sky, and birds were chirping. Beside me, Dean had been reading a newspaper; the headline reading, Man's Throat Slit Without a Trace. For the past couple of minutes, he had been super quiet, reading. From what I've been sensing from him, and the fact he was becoming engrossed in the paper, I had the feeling he found a job.

I pursed my lips at him in a mischievous manner, "So I had this interestin' dream last night."

"Mhmm." Dean hummed, "Great." He mused, acting like he heard me.

"Yeah, it was great." I said dreamily, "Zak Bagans professed his eternal love for me. We had a beautiful, passionate night, then we got married, and had three kids."

Still side-tracked by reading the newspaper, Dean nodded distractedly, pursing his lips as he read on, "Sounds like it was a fantastic—" He scrunched his face upon realizing what I had said, then looked at me with furrowed brows, "Wait, what?"

I grinned at him, seeing Sam come to the table with a holder containing three coffees, "Shoulda been listenin'." I retorted, leaning over in my chair to kiss him on the cheek as he sat there looking genuinely confused. Sam, who had been listening, shook his head with a grin as he sat our coffees down in front of Dean and me.

Snickering, he kept his coffee in his hands, "So, what's got you so interested in this paper?"

Dean handed over the paper to Sam, "Anthony Giles." Dean said. I picked up my coffee, taking a tentative sip in case the drink was hotter than forty hells. In which, it was. I pulled the cup away from me quickly, scrunching my face in irritation over my mouth being scalded.

"Who's Anthony Giles?" Sam asked, looking at the newspaper confused.

"He's a Baltimore lawyer." Dean replied, taking a large swallow of his coffee unflinchingly, "Working late in his office," he gestured his hand for Sam to read it, "Check it out."

"Uh...throat was slit, room was clean." He read aloud, "Huh. No DNA, no prints."

Dean smiled, "Keep reading, it gets better."

Sam peered down at the paper, "Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant."

"So I'm thinking either somebody tampered with the tapes—"

"Or it's an invisible killer," I mused, catching Dean's head nod in agreement.

"My favorite kind." He said, "What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?"

Sam frowned, "I'm not Scully, Abigail's Scully—she's a girl."

Dean shook his head, "Nope." He told Sam popping the 'p' as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, "She's sitting out on this one," Coffee in his hand, Dean pointed to Sam, "So that only leaves you." Sam blinked, half-surprised that I was staying behind, but understood why. "Which makes me Mulder." Dean carried on, "You're a red-headed woman."

I snorted at the two boys' arguing about who got to be who from X-Files, "Ya'll would be brokenhearted if I did go."

Dean and Sam arched their brows, "And why's that?" Dean challenged.

I smirked, "Cause I'd be Skinner."

"No, in that case, I'd be Skinner." Dean jested.

"What makes you think you can be Skinner?" Sam chimed in incredulously, "I can be Skinner if I wanted to."

Dean puffed up like he usually did to make a point, "'Cause I'm the oldest, and that makes me the boss."

I flashed a grin at them before checking the time on my watch, "Well, ya'll can debate on that one, but our Skinner's waitin' on us." I said standing up from the table with Dean and Sam following shortly after.

"You do realize I'm not letting you watch that stupid show ever again, right?" Dean said, coming up behind me.

I had to laugh, "So you were listenin'," I said throwing him a mischievous grin, "That's a first."

"Of course I listen." He let out a playful scoff, "Why wouldn't I listen?"

"Because you don't half the time," Sam piped in with a knowing smirk.

Dean turned his head with an incredulous expression painted on his face, "I listen!" Sam and I arched our brows at him, then he scratched the back of his head with a sheepish look, "Sometimes. But I'm serious about you watchin' that stupid show!"

"Zak Bagans is life." I said in a serious tone, arching my brow at him.

Dean rolled his eyes as we crossed the street to the hospital, "Underneath all that glitz, he's just some jerk pretending to be something he's not."

"So is Dr. Sexy M. D." I shot back.

"Don't you talk about him like that!" He said defensively, then glanced to Sam, who was staring at him, astonished. Dean cleared his throat, "Not that I watch it all the time or anything…" Sam smirked as Dean jerked his thumb in my direction, "Not like her freak obsession with some guy on the Travel Channel."

I shoved Dean playfully, "Hey, short bus! You tell me each corny line Dr. Sexy speaks when you try—"

"Okay! Okay!" Sam interrupted us, waving his hands around his ears, "I get it. You two have weird, TV-star obsessions."

Dean and I exchanged a glance, "No, we don't." We glanced at each other again, "Shut up." Dean furrowed his brows at our words, "Seriously, shut up." This time I furrowed my brows at him, "Okay, this is awkward."

"Yeah, okay." Sam laughed out, "Ya'll figure out what you want to do, I'm heading on up." He walked ahead of Dean and me as we proceeded to carry on our good-natured argument about television stars. Getting to the sanitization station, we washed our hands and arms, then went to Megan's room, ushering our hellos and whatnot to other families that we had gotten to know since Megan's birth.

One family in particular, the Durham's, stopped us, at least the mother of the little boy preemie did, "Hey, Abigail!"

I paused, seeing Jill Durham poking her head out of her baby's room, "Oh. Hey, Jill."

"You staying for a while?" She asked. Dean and Sam had stopped ahead of me, watching. I threw them a glance, then looked back to her with a small smile.

"Yeah," I replied, nodding, "As a matter of fact, I am. Got some time off at my work."

Jill's smile widened, "Oh, that's good! Hey, listen!" She stepped outside of the darkened room, leaving one hand on the door knob, "I'm throwing a small party today; nothing huge, you know? Darren's coming home later today."

"Darren's coming home?" Dean asked, coming to my side, earning a short nod from Jill; who was practically beaming. Despite the twisting and knotting up of Dean's mild jealousy in my stomach, we both smiled at her baby's success, "That's… great." He added, weakly.

"Are you guys off work too?" Jill asked, looking over to Dean then finally Sam.

Dean let out a forced chuckle, "Unfortunately, no." He told her, "Gotta keep bread on the table and pay the bills." Jill looked over to Sam, who shook his head with a small smile.

"Same here, but congratulations." Sam replied.

"It's totally understandable," She said, before looking over her shoulder into the room, "I gotta go, Darren's up. See you then Abby!" Nodding, the four of us parted ways, walking inside Megan's room. Being the first into the room, Sam had the incubator door opened, carefully getting all the cords and things attached to Megan before he had her in his arms. I smiled knowingly, feeling the warmth and ease come from my daughter.

"Hey, pretty girl." Sam said to her with a big smile, "You know your Uncle Sam's got you, don't ya?" He murmured, carrying her over to the nearest seat and sat down, holding her close to his chest. Sam's shaggy hair covered his eyes for the most part so I couldn't exactly see his expression that well, but every bit of him read excitement and love. Megan was pretty quiet, keeping her eyes closed as he touched her still-tiny hand with his forefinger, then a rumbling chuckle came from him, "I see you peeking. You're as bad as your dad."

Dean let out a snort, "Yeah, right."

I nudged him playfully, "He's tellin' the truth, sweetie." My bow-legged beauty raised a brow at me, "What? You're horrible at tryin' to pretend you're asleep." Dean rolled his eyes reclining back into his chair until his legs were sticking straight out and the toes of his boots were pointed up. He was jealous to not get to Megan first; it was always a race between the two of them to see who could get to her first. In this case, Sam won and he was reaping his rewards.

"I can't wait for those stupid things to be taken out of her," Dean blurted out, motioning to the cords that were carefully draped over Sam's arm, "They can't be comfortable."

"I second that motion." I mused, seeing Sam look up to us, then back down to Megan as he nodded in a solemn agreement. The head doctor over her had said it would be another week before she could be discharged where she's still so little, "This week literally couldn't be over quick enough."

"You're not even kidding," Dean sat up in his chair, watching Megan closely when she popped her hand into her mouth, "I say we take a long break after this." He suggested, earning curious looks from Sam and I. Dean shrugged half-mildly, "You know, so that when Meg does get out of this place, we can all keep an eye on her—even Bobby."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "I mean, Bobby's already done so much for us." Sam said, looking up to Dean.

"Letting Abs and I convert a room into a half-bedroom, half-nursery was something he didn't have to do." Dean ran a hand over his face roughly, "At least it's something for her at the moment." I took his hand in mine squeezing it ever so slightly in reassurance, "Then when she's old enough to get out and about, that's when she'll be going with us—" He paused when I gave him a dark look then cleared his throat, "On occasion, that is." He then added.

"I think it's great you two are wanting to give Megan a normal life," Sam said, "But, how are you guys gonna do it when she gets old enough to start school, and starts asking why we live in motels?" That sparked an ember of doubt in my stomach. When Dean tilted his head forward, then glanced to me from the corner of his eyes, I knew then and there, he didn't have a plan. He hadn't gotten that far. It was all about the now.

"One day at a time, little brother." Dean said, "Megan's still a baby."

"But not for long." Sam stated. Dean shifted beside me, uncomfortable at that thought. Megan was growing like a weed, that part was very clear. She was getting bigger and bigger each day, always improving by the minute, and doing something new every day. For the past few days, since our near heart-attack with her allergic reaction, our daughter had been more alert and less sensitive to the light. She'd peek more often, and my God, her lungs worked fine. She could shatter glass if we let her. Megan Daniella is definitely the miracle baby in this NICU.

"I know it," I heard Dean murmur, breaking me away from my thoughts. The low rumbling sound of his voice hid a blurb of solemnness, which made me stroke the back of his hand with my thumb. We had already missed out on several milestones of our daughter's life, such as having her weaned off the oxygen, having a few annoying cords taken away, and a few mentionable others. Slipping his hand away from mine, he hoisted himself out of the chair with a grunt as he stood up and crossed the room to where Sam was at. Being impatient in nature, he'd been impatiently patient long enough. The way he walked over to Sam was rigid, acting as if there were a countdown to when they needed to leave for Baltimore. This had been the first job in almost a month where they would go it alone without me, granted, they were perfectly capable of functioning without me. They'd proved it several times. It took longer, and they always came back pretty beat up from a tussle.

Sam switched places with his brother, the both of them carefully handling Megan as if she were porcelain, then crossed the room to sit beside me. We watched as Dean held Megan against him. Underneath the smile that had spread across his visage, Dean held a troubled look in his eyes. I could almost hear the wheels in his head turning, trying to form some kind of plan for us. Sam was quiet, observing his brother. It was apparent that he knew the weight of the world sat firmly on Dean's shoulders—it was always like Dean to think that way. After all, Dean was John's little soldier. Failure was something that scared him—infuriated him to say the least—and the thought of failing to keep Megan or Sam or I safe wasn't an option in his book.

I hummed to myself, piquing Sam's interest. I shook my head smirking when he looked at me curiously, "What is it?" He asked.

"It's nothin'." I answered in a low tone, waving my hand at him dismissively.

Sam's brows scrunched, "What is?"

"Big, bad hunter is a big ole teddy bear." Sam grinned, seeing Dean glance up from Megan with an arched brow. A grin of my own spread across my face when the corner of Dean's mouth twitched into a smirk.

"Very funny guys." Dean told us, situating Megan so that she was resting on his chest, "We're in stitches right now, aren't we, Megan?" From where we sat, Sam and I's hearts had melted into a large puddle when a large grin splayed across Megan's face. At that very moment, Dean's barriers had crumbled allowing himself to show how vulnerable he could be. The corners of Dean's eyes crinkled when he chuckled, flashing his daughter a genuine Dean Winchester smile before tipping his head forward to plant a gentle kiss on top of her head. Cautious of the cords still attached to her, he wound his arms closer around her so that very little of Megan's body was visible to Sam and me; a tiny foot was all that I could see poking out from under Dean's jacketed arm.

Winding my arm around Sam's, I leaned against him, resting my head against his shoulder, I leaned into Sam, snaking my arm around his, smiling, "I have to admit, Sammy, being a dad suits him."

"Yeah, no kidding." He replied in a gentle tone. We watched as Dean slowly rose to his feet and paced near her incubator murmuring endearing words to her. The low thunks of Dean's boots hitting the floor with each step he took resonated throughout the room. He'd glance up every now and then to us, grinning like a well-fed 'possum before he'd turn his back to us murmuring more words to our daughter, "I don't think I've seen him this happy in a while."

I merely nodded at Sam's words. Dean loved his daughter with every fiber in his being; I didn't have to be an empath to know that. It was written all over him when he spoke about her, looked at her when he held her, and when he would watch me or Sam with her, "It makes me wish I can turn back time so that everything bad that's happened to us lately, has never happened, you know?"

Sam's chest rumbled, "That's what makes us stronger. We learn from them."

"That we do, Sammy." I replied, "That we do."

Dean glanced to his watch before he cleared his throat, "As much as I hate to do this kiddo," He bowed his head to speak to Megan, "Dad and uncle Sam have to leave if we want to make it to Baltimore by tomorrow evening." My heart sank slightly out of dread. I wasn't sure if it was mine or Dean's, "So don't give your mom any problems, alright? I'll be back before you know it."

On cue, Sam and I rose to our feet. I crossed over to Dean as he paused briefly to place a kiss on Megan's forehead. For the most part, she was quiet when he handed her over to me. Sam came over to us slowly, bending forward to place another kiss on top of her head as well, "Be good for your mom, Megan." He said lightly, then straightened up, looking to Dean.

"Uh, head on down." Dean said, "I'll be right behind you."

Sam nodded, "See you in a few days, Abs."

I wrapped an arm around him in an awkward single-armed hug, "Be careful, Sammy. Keep this'n in check."

Sam chuckled, "Of course."

Dean rolled his eyes at us, "Why is it always me that needs to be looked after?"

"Cause you're the one that gets in trouble the most." I countered, seeing his shoulders rise in a shrug while pulling a face. Sam ruffled my hair after placing a gentle, brotherly kiss on top of my head, making me swat at his hand. With a grin, Sam left the room laughing as he headed out to the Impala. Since we were alone, Dean closed his eyes, hung his head and let out a loud breath. He didn't want to leave. "Dean, everythin's gonna be alright." I said, meeting a pair of distressed hazel orbs.

"Yeah, I know." He replied, "I just…I don't know, Abs…" Dean was fighting with himself over his emotions, "Leaving you behind with Megan…I mean, anything could go wrong without me here."

I offered him a reassuring smile, "But it's not. We're at a hospital, Bobby's not even fifteen minutes away." I told him, placing my freehand against his cheek. Dean leaned his head into my touch, keeping a firm gaze on me.

"I don't even know how long this job's gonna be." He muttered.

I smirked, "We usually don't until it's done." Dean nodded sullenly, "Call me later?"

For a moment, Dean's eyes sparked to life with a mischievous glint, "Of course." His lips curved into a smirk, "Just to make sure you're not with your fictional boyfriend or anything." I let out a snort at his jest, seeing him grin at me.

"It's a weeknight, thank you very much." I retorted, "Ghost Adventures don't come on until Saturday."

Dean just rolled his eyes at me in response, "I'm surprised you don't know where he lives."

"Well, I—."

He shook his head, "Forget I said that."

"You're a shithead, you know that right?" I deadpanned, seeing his grin widened (if it could).

"You love me." He stated in a matter of fact tone.

I nodded, "That I do."

Dean then fell silent, jaw set as he turned his gaze to Megan, "I really don't want to leave you two."

"But you got to."

"Yeah…" His voice trailed off, "I know…" He took another deep breath, forcing himself to need to leave after checking his watch once again, "Sam and I are going to do our best and be back before Megan is let out of the hospital."

"Okay." Procrastinating about his departure, Dean rested a hand on the side of my face after brushing away a few tendrils of hair. His eyes scanned mine for a moment, drinking in my appearance that consisted of me holding our baby daughter, dressed in his Metallica shirt with a plaid button-up, and a pair of shorts, while my hair was in a disheveled bun.

I felt my face burn with embarrassment, something that usually happened when he took a moment longer to stare at me. To be honest, I felt like I was eighteen again when he done that. As close as we were, Dean dipped his head down, while I tipped mine up meeting him halfway. We weren't quite kissing, it was more like hovering, being a breath away from doing so. It was almost like Dean's signature kiss before he had to leave.

Another second passed when we closed what distance we had. The kiss itself was slow and deliberate—just how he liked it as he let his hands move from my face, down my shoulders and arms, until they were on my hips. Keeping his head level with mine, he pulled back, opening his eyes to take another good look at me before flickering down to my mouth once again. This time, I closed the distance between us in which Dean was more than obliged by me taking the reins.

With a freehand, I slid my hand down Dean's front, feeling the ridges and valleys of his torso from under his shirt. Our mouths moved against each other, allowing our tongues to entwine and dance. There was a small flare of heat forming a knot in my stomach; a delicious, familiar knot that lit my skin afire.

After a few minutes of heated kissing, Ramble On started blaring. Dean stiffened, another kind of knot formed in my stomach—irritation and dread—that caused us both to reluctantly pull away from each other by just a hair, "Sam?" I whispered.

Dean nodded, "Yeah. Probably thinks we're having sex." We shared a grin before pecking each other's lips in quick succession and finished it with a long, drawn out kiss. Pulling away for the final time, Dean brought a hand up to my face, trailing his fingertips along my cheek, "I guess that's my cue to leave then."

"I guess so." Dean was silent, stroking my face tenderly, "You okay?"

Dean blinked, realizing he had spaced out, "Uh, yeah. Yeah. I'm good." He bent forward to plant another kiss on top of Megan's head, "I love you, kiddo. Be good for your mom." My heart leapt at hearing those words ushered to Megan. They didn't just come out willy-nilly, and it took a great deal of fighting to even convince them to come out. Sure, Dean and I had our own way of saying it, or expressing it, or whatever, but to hear them? It took my breath away; especially since those words were directed towards our child. He looked to me, kissing me one last time, "I love you, Abs."

I could've melted into a puddle, instead, I nodded, "I love you too, Dean." I wrapped an arm around his neck, feeling him entwine his around my waist before we stepped apart, "Be careful, alright?"

He threw me a smirk, "Always, sugar-pie."

I held Megan against me as I smiled, watching him leave.


Two Days Later

Sam's Point of View

Interrogation Room-Day

October 24th, 2006

Separated from Dean, I paced by the window inside the interrogation room, often glancing outside. I paused when the policewoman, Officer Ballard, entered and watched as she placed a cup of coffee on the table.

"Thought you might be thirsty," she told me.

"Okay, so you're the good cop." I stated, throwing my arms out to the side, ignoring the act of kindness she was showing me, "Where's the bad cop?"

"Oh, he's with your brother." She prompted, causing an uneasy feeling to go through me. All I could really think about was what the other cop doing to my brother? What could they possibly be holding us here for? What if Abigail found out? What would she do? There were about a million unanswered questions as to why this was happening.

I needed answers, "Okay," I stated, "And you're holding us why?"

"Well, he's being held on suspicion of murder." Ballard said in a matter of fact tone, "And you," She gestured to me, "we'll see."

It took me a moment to register what she had said, causing me to lean forward, feigning shock, "Murder?!"

"You sound genuinely surprised." Ballard commented, "Or are you that good of an actor?"

"Who was he supposed to have murdered?!" I asked incredulously.

"We'll get around to that." She said patiently.

I scoffed, "Well, you can't just hold us here without formal charges!"

"Well actually, we can—for forty eight hours—but you being a pre-law student, would know that." Ballard said, "I know all about you, Sam." I watched as she opened a file, "You're twenty three years old, no job, no home address. Your mother died when you were a baby, your father's whereabouts are unknown. And then there's the case of your brother Dean. Whose demise was, well, just a little bit exaggerated. Feel free to jump in whenever you like." I leaned against the wall, folding my arms across my chest, "Shy? No problem. I'll keep going." She continued, "Your family moved around a lot when you were a kid. Despite that, you were a straight-A student. Got into Stanford with a full ride." Ballard closed the file, "Then about a year ago there was a fire in your apartment. One fatality. Jessica Moore, your girlfriend. After she died, you fell off the grid. Left behind everything."

I shrugged, "I needed some time off. To deal. So I'm taking a road trip with my brother." I had to keep Abigail's name out of this. If I had let it slip she was hanging around with us, as well as having Megan…things would get from bad to worse in no time.

"How's that going for you?" She asked in a mocking tone.

"Great." I replied in a dry tone, "I mean... we saw the second largest ball of twine in the continental US. Awesome." I walked from the wall to the table where I pulled a chair up and straddled it.

"We ran Dean's fingerprints through AFIS." Ballard said.

I nodded, "Okay."

"Got over a dozen possible hits." She stated.

"Possible hits—which makes them worthless." I said.

"But it makes you wonder. What are we gonna find when we run your prints?" She asked.

I let out a haughty breath, "Yeah, well—" I pounded my fist on the table sarcastically, "You be sure to let me know, alright?" I then pointed to the cup, "May I?"

Ballard extended her hand to it, "Please."

I gave her a tight-lipped smile, "Great." I picked up the cup, sniffing it gingerly as she leaned over me with an intent look.

"Sam, you seem like a good kid." I mentally rolled my eyes at her words. This was way overplayed, "It's not your fault Dean's your brother. We can't pick our family. Right now detectives in St. Louis are exhuming a corpse. They're trying to figure out how your brother faked his own death. After torturing all those young women. Dean's a bad guy. His life is over. Yours doesn't have to be."

Taking the cup away from my lips, I gave her an incredulous look, "You want me to turn against my own brother?"

Ballard shook her head, "No. We already caught him cold. Red-handed at the Karen Giles murder scene. We just need you to fill in some missing pieces."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I can talk to the DA. Make a deal for you." She said, trying to coax me into turning on Dean, "You can get on with your life. Dean's as good as gone."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Think, Sam. Abigail's not here to bail us out, "My dad and Tony Giles were old friends. They were in the service together. We've known him since we were kids, you know? So we came as soon as we heard about his death." Ballard nodded, taking notes, "Woulda been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time." Which was true. We weren't. We were still in Sioux Falls with Abigail and the baby.

"So tell me what happened next." She urged.

I blew out a sigh, "Okay, uh, that's when we went to see Karen. She was barely holding it together. We just wanted to be there for her. You know?"


Sam's Point of View

Giles House—Day

October 23rd, 2006

"Insurance?" Karen Giles, Tony Giles' widow sniffled out, "I totally forgot about the insurance." She said looking at some of the forms that Dean and I had given her.

"We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand." I told her gently.

Karen nodded, looking tearfully at me, "Sure."

"Okay. Um." I glanced over to Dean, then back to her, "If you could just tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died."

"Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner." She recounted, "He called and said he was having computer troubles and that—that he had to work late. That was it."

I leaned forward in my seat, "Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?"

"No." She said, "No, it's like I told the police, I-I have no idea."

"Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you?" Dean prompted from where he said, "In the days before his death?"

"Unusual..." Karen echoed, drawing her eyebrows in confusion at his questions.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, like strange?"

Giles' widow shook her head, "Strange?"

"You know, Karen, weird? Weird noises, uh, visions, anything like that?" Dean elaborated, causing my eyes to widen a fraction. I cleared my throat to shut him up, throwing him a withering look. Karen turned to look at me, obviously confused. I met her gaze straight-faced again, then shot him another look when she glanced down.

"He had a nightmare the day before he died." Karen said.

My brows rose at that. That was definitely something. "What kind of a nightmare?"

"Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone," She laughed softly, "I mean, it was just a nightmare."

Dean's brows where drawn together, "Did he say what she looked like?"

"What the hell difference does it make what she looked like?" Karen questioned, getting upset again. Dean sat back, throwing an uneasy look to me.

"Uh, it's just, our-our company's very thorough." Dean said quickly.

"He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes."


Present Day

Sam's Point of View

"So I gave Karen a hug, told her to call me if she needed anything," I told Ballard, then shrugged, "... and that was it. End of story."

Ballard leaned forward in her seat, resting her arms on the table, "Sam, I am trying to help you here. But you have got to be honest with me. Now we have an eyewitness. Someone who saw two men fitting your and your brother's description breaking into Giles' office."

"Okay, look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in - like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. Look, it was wrong to enter a crime scene, but she gave us the key!"


½ a Day Ago

Sam's Point of View

Giles' Office—Night

I picked the lock on Tony Giles' office with no issues, then eased the door open. Ducking under the police tape, I entered the office with Dean following closely behind. With my flashlight, the beam of light passed over a pool of blood on the floor.

"Hey." Dean turned to me, "Anthony Giles' body was found right about here." I glanced down to the article, "Throat slit so deep part of his spinal cord was visible." I read aloud.

From on Dean's phone, I heard Abigail let out a low whistle, "What do ya'll think?" She asked, "Vengeful spirit? Underlinin' vengeful?"

"Yeah, maybe." I replied in a light tone, "I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed."

Holding his phone in one hand, Dean picked up a sheet of paper lying on the desk, "Sam, take a look at this." I crossed the room, taking the sheet of paper. Gazing at it, the small-font printing of the word 'danashulps' repeated over and over until it filled the page.

"What is it?" Abigail asked.

"Dana Shulps." I read aloud.

"A name?" Abigail asked, sounding a little confused. Dean searched the desk, finding another paper.

"I dunno, but it's everywhere." Dean said, then started to grin, "Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy."

Abigail laughed lightly over the phone, "You're horrible, Dean."

"How's Megan doing?" I heard Dean ask while I shined the flashlight down on a glass table in front of me.

"She's doin' alright. Eat, sleep, poop, refuel, then do it all over again." Abigail drawled out, before yawning, "The parent life's for me." Glancing up at Dean a moment, seeing him smiling to himself. Focusing on the table, I breathed onto the glass, revealing the same letters 'DANASHULPS' impress in the surface.

"Wow. I'd say we've officially crossed over into weird." I commented, causing Dean to look at what I had revealed.

"Maybe Giles knew her." Dean said, looking up from the table.

"Or maybe it's the name of our pale red-eyed mystery girl." Abigail pointed out.

"Well. Let's see what we can see baby bro." Dean said, clapping me on the shoulder, "Call you later and let you know something."

"Ai'ght, I'll take a look about this 'Dana Shulps', see if I can find something out." Abigail said, "You two be careful."

"Always." Dean and I said in chorus, before he closed his cellphone. We must've searched the place up and down for almost an hour, searching through all accessible paper and computer files in the office. I scanned several files, when Dean let out a frustrated breath of air.

"There's not a single mention of a Dana Shulps anywhere. There's not a D. Shulps. Or any other kind of fuckin' Shulps." He snapped out of annoyance.

"Great." I muttered, sarcasm coating my voice.

"What have you got?" He implored.

I glanced up from the computer screen half-annoyed, half-dejected about the lack of information, "Nothing." I replied with a shake of my head, "No Dana Shulps has ever lived or died in Baltimore in the last fifty years at least."

"So what now?" Dean asked.

"Well, I think I'm pretty close to cracking Giles' password. Maybe there's something in his personal files, you know?" I suggested.

"By close you mean..." Dean trailed off, expecting two to three minutes.

I shrugged, "Thirty minutes, maybe?"

Dean glanced at his watch, "Awesome. So I guess I just get to, uh, hang out." He sat down in a chair, muttering before he proceeded to click his mouth.

An irritated groan left my mouth before I could catch it, "Dude, seriously." I deadpanned, "Call Abigail or text her or something if you're that bored."

"No, she's busy with the baby, you know that…she needs to rest—which I high doubt she's doing." Dean leaned forward in the chair, running a hand down his face tiredly. I highly doubted Abigail knew what Dean was like when she wasn't around. She had a pretty good idea, but I knew from several instances my brother felt like he was missing another piece of himself.

Since we pulled out of the hospital, Dean's entire demeanor has changed; he was mainly focused on the job, sleeping a lot less, acting a lot snappier and becoming more rash about decisions than what was considered normal for him…Dean was basically keeping himself so busy he wouldn't really have the time to think about Abigail not being here. Not to mention exceeding the limits of how annoying he could be in the matter of thirty seconds.

"Maybe you should get up with Karen again," I suggested glancing back to the computer screen.

Dean nodded, "Good idea." He agreed, "Alright, I'm gonna go talk to her again," He stood up, "see if she knows anything about this Dana Shulps, huh?" I hummed in response until Dean shone his flashlight in my eyes, "Keep going, Sparky."

I shook my head at him, rolling my eyes to the ceiling of the office out of annoyance. Next job, I was staying behind.


Present Day

October 24th, 2006

Abigail's Point of View

Police Station

I sat outside the police station in my rental BMW, dabbing on some ruby red lipstick, "Eye of the Tiger, Abs." I told myself as I smeared the red pigment across my lips and smacked them together, "Eye. Of. The. Tiger." Throwing the precinct another anxious glance, I said a silent prayer that none of the cops in there knew what I looked like or if Sam or Dean had been questioned about me. Looking at myself in the tiny mirror, I evaluated myself once more before I set out. My hair was adorned in neat, tight curls while my make-up was pristine. Large pearl earrings hung from my ears, while a dainty gold chain with a cross hung from around my neck—Dean's necklace hanging low into my black dress. I looked professional enough to play the lawyer thing off.

Tapping my manicured nails against the steering wheel of the car, I took a deep breath and blew out, "Lord, help me." I muttered, getting out of the car. Wearing brand new peep-toed heels, I crossed the street and into the police station; briefcase in hand.

Inside, I came up to the desk of a lone officer; a male. Oh, what are the odds of that? I asked myself as I stopped in front of him, offering a kind smile and pressed my arms against my chest, "Hi, I'm Roberta Plant from the public defender's office?" I said, catching his attention. The male officer jumped slightly, only to eye me up and down for a moment, "I'm here for the…" I took a quick second to look at a file I drew up, "The Winchester brothers? Jeffery couldn't make in."

"Right, uh…" He cleared his throat, "Right this way ma'am," pressing a button and from behind the door, it unlocked.

I flashed him a grin as I passed by, "Thanks, sweetie."

"No problem," He said, nodding to another officer waiting, "Take her to the Winchesters."

"Which one?" The other officer asked.

"The older one," I answered, after taking another look at my so-called file. In reality, it contained my notes from what I heard over the conversation the day before; namely anagrams for this 'danashulps' character.

"The older one…" It took the officer a second to register the oldest Winchester, "You mean the smartass?" I pressed my lips together to bite off a laugh. That was Dean alright.

I nodded, "I believe so."

"Right this way then," He said, leading me down a hallway, "This Dean character—the oldest brother? You gotta watch him."

I glanced over to him, "Oh?"

"Yeah," He nodded, "Five counts of murder, countless accounts of grave desecrations and fraud—"

"I'm very aware of what he's done, sir." I cut him off, "I've done my research." The cop's eyes widened a fraction at my tone. I didn't care.

"I hear they also have an accomplice." That made my blood run cold. Shit.

"Really? What have you heard?" I asked, intrigued and wary about what they might've heard.

He shrugged, "All's I know is that there's a woman running around with them—pretty little thing, and wilder than a buck. The Winchester's won't speak about her—claims they don't know any girl."

"Who's this woman?" I asked.

"Dunno her name, though they have an idea she's awfully close to this Dean fellow—real close, if you catch my drift?"

I furrowed my brows, "You mean, these two are involved?"

The cop nodded solemnly, "Oh yeah, and from the looks of it, they have a kid together—a baby girl. She looks sickly though, tubes and cords all over it." He shook his head, "I really hate the world we live in. Scum like that procreating. Poor kid's gonna be pretty messed up when she gets older." A flare of anger coursed through my veins at that. Who the hell are they to judge how my child was going to grow up? And for the record, Dean's not a criminal.

"I hate to hear that, I really do." I bit out as we came to a stop in front of a door, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to speak to my client now." The cop nodded, showing me through the door, to which, I had the pleasure of seeing Dean's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. Perfect Kodak moment, if I did so myself.

"Mr. Winchester?" I asked.

Dean stared another moment longer, before clearing his throat, "Uh, yeah."

"I'm Roberta Plant. I'm with the public defender's office. I'm yours and your brother's lawyer."

Dean's mouth twitched into a salacious grin, "Oh, thank god. I'm saved." He threw a wink at me as I sat down, pulling out a folder.

"Mr. Winchester, these are the charges that are being filed against you." I slid the folder across the table to him as he slowly opened it, glancing up to me after a moment of reading in realization that 'DANASHULPS' was an anagram for 'Ashland', and the U, P, and S were just extra letters—which I had ex'd out in a sharpie pen, and written a note that said, "A street not far from this location".

"Has my brother seen this yet?" He asked.

I shook my head in response, "No, not yet." From where I sat, I reached my leg out until barely touched his leg. He jumped slightly at the touch, sending a flurry of sensations through me. His distressed and aggravated demeanor dissipated as he relaxed into his chair, kicking his feet out under the table and positioned his leg against mine. For a moment, and only a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes, letting it be known internally that he was in good hands, "I had plans on seeing him in a few moments." Legs still out, he straightened up in his chair, occasionally glancing over to the large one way window.

"Listen, there's no way I'm getting out of this…" I furrowed my brows at him, "But Sam might have a chance—a great escape to say the least."

What he meant sunk in after a minute, "That he does, Mr. McQueen—a great escape, indeed." Dean closed the file, sliding it back over to me with his hand still on it. I reached out so that my hand covered his, in which I squeezed it in reassurance that I had their back. "I'll explain everything later." I mouthed, seeing him give me a minute nod and sat back in his chair, folding his arms. His eyes never left me until the door closed. Finding Sam's room wasn't hard. It was next door, surprise, surprise. Again, I had the pleasure of seeing another with an undeniable bout of shock when I stepped through the door.

After handing him the file with two sets of keys as I sat down, allowing him time to read the information. Seeing his brows furrow, I folded my arms, "So, Hilts. You ready?" Sam stared at me for a moment, nodding. "Good." I leaned forward lowering my voice, "I ain't got a lot of time. There's a key to the handcuffs and a key to my rental. When you get out, it's the sporty little Beemer out across the street with tinted windows. Get to it and keep your head low. I'll be out as soon as I can, Dean's gonna put on a little show long enough for you to do so." Sam nodded just as a knock on the door quickly followed with a female officer popping her head in.

"We need you. With the other one." She addressed me.

"Right away," I said, throwing Sam a look before I rushed out of the room with the officer. Several others have crowded into the observation room outside where Dean was being held; across from his seat a digital camera had been set up by the time officer Ballard and I had returned. The officer over Dean held a cocky look when I stopped, throwing them both a look.

"Counselor? Your boy decided to confess."

I feigned horror, "Mr. Winchester? I'd advise against that strongly." Dean merely grinned at me like the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland, before he turned back to the male detective.

"Talk directly into the camera, first stating your name for the record." He informed Dean, who leaned forward and cleared his throat.

"My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius. I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women." He paused, throwing me a wink. I had to cough in order to stave off a laugh. "And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or rather what did. Of course it can't be for sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit."

I smirked, seeing the female detective look absolutely bewildered by what he had just said, "Excuse me?"

Dean looked over to her and shrugged, "You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?" From inside the observation room, I heard spectators start laughing, causing me to purse my lips. I felt their condescension towards the two detectives and their crazy suspect—my boyfriend. My shoulders started to shake with quiet laughter that quickly stopped realizing that my powers were having a hand in it.

"This must be some kind of joke," I uttered, "He's obviously crazy."

Dean threw me a smug look, "Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the vale, it ain't easy. You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember "REDRUM". Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments... other times, it's anagrams. See, at first we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there." He concluded with a content smile, spreading his hands and leaned back into his seat.

"You arrogant bastard. Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes." Detective Sheridan snarled out in offence.

"I'm not joking, Ponch." Dean replied calmly.

"You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis!" He yelled out. I shot him a glare, remembering St. Louis very clearly.

"Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me." Dean told him smiling into the camera. Sheridan lost his temper and hauled Dean by the collar up against the wall.

"Hey!" I shouted.

"Pete, stop it!" Ballard protested. Sheridan's grip on Dean's collar loosened, causing me to look between the both of them. It dawned on me that the two were sleeping together.

Dean stared him down in defiance, "You asked for the truth."

Sheridan stared at him for a long moment, then smirked, "You know that woman that's been traveling around with you? Like I said earlier, I got pictures of her." I froze in my spot. Oh fuck, and he ain't lying. "Your phone?" Dean's smug look disappeared, soon turning into that of defiance, "There's dozens of pictures…I hear from other precincts that she's never too far from the likes of you." Dean's jaw tightened, forcing himself to not look over to me, "Who is she?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, buddy." Dean's voice held a hidden anger. His blood had to be boiling.

"Don't give me that shit, Dean." Sheridan said, "She's obviously something to you. A friend?" Dean said nothing. "A girlfriend?" Dean remained silent, "You and her have a kid together, Dean. A sick one at that. Would be a shame if something happened to her." I swallowed down a fit of rage of my own, folding my arms across my chest to prevent myself from leaping over the table and rip his head off his shoulders. Dean's green eyes glazed over with a deep rooted anger.

"Leave my daughter out of this." He growled out.

Sheridan smirked at his victory, "Did I hit a nerve? I'm so sorry." He let Dean go, taking a step back, "A child born with it's parents unmarried…" He made a tsking sound with his mouth, earning a dark look from the both of us, "It's a shame she has to grow up hearing her bastard father's nothing but low-life murderer. Cause where you're going; you won't see her or your girlfriend ever again." That was the straw that broke the camel's back. Dean lunged forward, getting two good punches in before Sheridan had got in a few punches as well before he had slammed Dean against the wall once again.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean yelled out in protest, "Leave my family out of this!"

A slew of officers came rushing in as Ballard went to Sheridan's side to see what Dean had done to him; a busted lip and nose. Served him right, bastard.

"I'm fine. I'm fine." Sheridan said, wiping blood off his face and glanced at it, "You just assaulted an officer." He jerked his chin to Dean, "Lock his ass up." Another cop took over, shoving Dean face-first against the wall and handcuffed him. I took that as my cue to leave before Sheridan could match my face with any of the pictures he had laid out on the table of me in order to get a response from him. Dean's eyes fell on me, blood pouring from a cut over his eye before I slipped out of the room undetected and practically ran out of the precinct. Getting into the BMW, I turned the key to the ignition switch as the engine purred to life.

I dropped the clutch to it until I left the parking spot with a trail of smoking black marks trailing behind. I was so angry of what I had just heard and witnessed. It wasn't until I made it down the road a good four blocks until Sam sat up in the backseat uneasily.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," He mumbled, earning an apologetic look from me.

I pulled into an empty parking lot, throwing the car in park before I leaned forward with my arms up on the steering wheel and rested my forehead, "Sammy…"

"Yeah?"

"Is Dean and I really that bad of parents?" I asked as I closed my eyes.

There was silence, an appalled one, "No, why?" Sam asked, shocked. I didn't move my head, instead I opened my eyes to where I was staring down at my lap as a rush of tears burst forth, "Abby…" My heart clenched painfully, quickly taking the back of my hand to wipe away the stray tears. I closed my eyes again when Sam struggled to climb up front with me. The car rocked slightly until Sam made it through with a grunt "Hey, Abigail...what did they say?"

I swallowed hard for the lump in my throat, "It's just…there were officers in there that knew about Megan and me…they were usin' us against Dean…" I heard Sam inhale sharply, "…and, uh, they kept sayin' that we were scum, and that when she got older, she was goin' to messed up due to the fact that her, and I quote, 'Bastard father's a murderer'."

"Abigail…" Sam began, voice faltering, "Don't listen to them. I'm sure Dean doesn't believe all of that. I mean, it's-it's just a, a tactic police use. You and him both know."

"I know it, Sam." I said quietly. I finally lifted my head up from the steering wheel to look at him, "But doin' what we do... protectin' these people from all of these monsters and ghosts and demons… does that make us bad parents?"

Sam stared me in the eye, jaw tightened. He, of all people should know, "No." He said firmly. I raised my brows slightly at the sincerity in his voice, "You and Dean are great parents. The both of you try to make it work for her, and that's all that matters. I mean, look at all the things you and him have done for her; making her a room."

"It's half-assed." I muttered.

"It's still a place for her." He pointed out, "Two places; Charlie's and Bobby's." Sam shifted in the seat beside me, "Abigail, you and Dean's already done so much for Megan. You've both made sacrifices. I've made sacrifices."

"I know you have Sammy…I couldn't thank you enough for it." Sam's hand clasped over mine in reassurance.

"You and Dean will figure things out… you always do." Sam said.


Dean's Point of View

Police Station—Night

So here I was again, back into another interrogation room. Just peachy. Sitting at the table; handcuffed, the female detective, Ballard or whatever came in to the room. She looked like she saw a ghost or something. Her overall appearance seemed nervous, but what the hell?

I ran a hand down my face roughly, "Can we make this quick? I'm a little tired, it's been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all." I told her with a clipped tone. My head was throbbing.

Ballard slowly approached me, "I want to know more about that stuff you were talking about earlier."

I smirked, "Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up."

She fidgeted in her place, "Let's pretend for the moment you're not entirely insane." I stared at her for a second, humming in thought, "What would one of these things be doing here?"

"A vengeful spirit?" I asked, then shrugged, "Well, they're created by violent deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt 'em.

"And uh, these, they're capable of killing people?" Ballard asked, rubbing her neck. Something caught my eye, more or less it was on her wrist.

I leaned forward in my seat, "Where did you get that?" I asked, nodding to her wrist. The detective pulled up her sleeves, revealing deep bruises—the same kind of bruises that were on Karen Giles' wrists.

"I don't know. It, it wasn't there before." She said, sounding shocked.

"You've seen it, haven't you? The spirit?"

Her face ultimately gave away the answer, "How did you know?"

"Because Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I'm willing to bet that if you look at Giles' autopsy photos he's got 'em too—it's got something to do with this spirit," I hung my head slightly, shaking it, "I... I don't know what." When I looked back up to the detective she had turned away, looking into the mirrored window of the observation room, "I know. You think you're going crazy. But let's skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?"

Ballard looked over her shoulder, "You think I'm going to die."

"You need to go to Sam and Abigail. They'll help." I said.

Ballard's face registered shock, "You're-you're girlfriend?"

I nodded, "Yeah, the hot little blonde that was here? Roberta Plant?"

"The counselor?" Once again, I nodded, smirking at the look on her face, "So, you're giving your brother and girlfriend up."

"Go to the first motel listed in the yellow pages. Look for Jim Rockford and Leslie Snipes - it's how we find each other when we're separated. Now you can arrest him and her if you want. Or you can let them save your life."


Abigail's Point of View

Motel—Night

The drive to the motel had been short, an approximate fifteen minute drive from the empty parking lot to the rental place, and from there, a short walk down two blocks where a dinky little motel was located. There in the parking lot of the motel was the Impala and my motorcycle; a 2004 Harley Davidson Screamin' Eagle. I won that baby on a bet and a pool game, and she was a beaut.

Inside, Sam and I spent over an hour sitting in our designated areas going through files. I sat on a bed while Sam sat at the desk when I looked up from a paper with furrowed brows. I had sensed this nervousness and fear, causing Sam to peer up from his papers with a concerned expression. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Someone's here." I answered, and at that time, there was a knock on the door. We shared a look, causing me to slide off of the bed with my hand reaching for my gun in a nonchalant manner.

"What're you doing?" Sam asked, looking at me like I was insane.

"Answer the door." I hissed. As he did so, my eyes widened slightly upon seeing detective Ballard. Instantaneously, my hands flew into view when he hesitated at her appearance. She merely shrugged and entered, however, something on her wrists caught my eye, "What've you got?"

Sam shut the door, looking to Ballard's wrists when she lifted them up for him to see and told us roughly about what had happened to her, "And these showed up after you saw it?" I asked.

"Yeah, I guess." She replied, seeming utterly lost. It was a look, sound, and talk I had learned to know all too well with people who didn't know of the existence of supernatural beings. Sam and Dean knew it by heart.

Sam and I exchanged another glance, "Alright." He sighed out, "You're going to have to tell us exactly what you saw."

"You know, I must be losing my mind." Ballard said looking to us both, "You're a fugitive and you're a criminal. I should be arresting you both."

"Yeah, well, you can arrest us later, alright?" Anger bubbled to the surface, remembering everything that had happened in the interrogation room earlier that day, "But you ain't doin' a damn thing till after you live through this—so sit tight."

Sam gave me a dirty look, knowing my temper was rising all too quickly, "I got this, Abigail." I pulled a face at him before sitting on the edge of the bed. He turned to Ballard, with his puppy dog look in full effect, "Alright. Right now you've gotta talk to us. Okay?" The detective gave him a simple nod, "Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?"

"She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood." I furrowed my brows as I took in her information.

"You know what? Here." I gestured them over to the table, "Sammy and I've been researchin' every girl that's ever died or gone missin' from Ashland Street." Sam led her over to the table that I had moved in between both beds, where he gathered up a stack of crime scene photos. With furrowed brows, Ballard looked up from the photos, shocked.

"How'd you get those?" She questioned, "Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos."

Sam smirked, "You have your job, we have ours." I smiled at that. That's my boy, Sammy. "I need you to look through these, tell me if you recognize anyone." There was a pretty good size stack of photos with one photo that I picked up on. I knew which one it was—the third one. Sam knew which one it was too, which led him to bring her over to the stack. When Ballard sat down, flipping through each card, she faltered on the third one exactly.

When the color in her face drained, I smirked. "This is her. I'm sure of it." She said, looking up to us.

Sam's eyes flickered over to me before falling back on Ballard, "Claire Becker? Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago."

"But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?" She asked.

"Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealin' heroin. You ever work narcotics?" I questioned.

She nodded, "Yeah, Pete and I did. Before Homicide."

"You ever bust her?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

Ballard shook her head, "Not that I remember."

Sam glanced over to me, and I nodded slightly. She was telling the truth, "It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street." Sam explained, "Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body."

"What?"

I shrugged, "Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest."

"Of course it is." Ballard sighed out.

"You just don't know."


2911 Ashland Street—Night

"So what exactly are we looking for?" The detective, whose name we found out was Diana, asked.

"I'll let you know when we find it." Sam told her, "I should say, when she finds it." He said, motioning to me. I smirked at him, raising my hand in a one finger salute. Sam grinned at me, though Diana just looked perplexed. We split up, Sam checking up a flight of stairs, while I stuck with her.

"So, you're Dean's girlfriend." Diana said.

"That'd be me." I hummed out, looking around the area of the lower level. There was something about this place that had me on edge.

"You have a beautiful daughter." She said.

Here we go. My lips turned upward into a cynical smirk, "Listen, I appreciate the complement and all, but don't bring my child into it. You or your…partner, don't know what Dean and I've been through."

Diana frowned, "I apologize about what Pete said…"

"Pete can shove it." I interrupted her, "He doesn't know Dean, like his brother and I do. Dean is not a murderer, and what happened in St. Louis—that wasn't him. Police tactic or not, you don't say that." I shook my head, keeping a firm gaze on the female detective, "Not to him." There was a clank somewhere off in the shadows that made me look out there.

"Dean was caught red-handed at the scene of Karen Giles' murder. As of right now—" I held my hand up, shushing her. In the illumination of the window, I looked around and the shuffle of Diana moving kept me on edge. Or was it her? I felt a tight grip on my wrist, a cold one at that.

"Diana, let go of—" I turned, realizing that Diana was frozen in her place halfway across the room. I turned my head to see the ghastly vision of Claire; messy blonde hair with blood caked in it, blood red eyes, and a Columbian neck tie. Her eyes were wide, mouth gaping as if she were trying to speak…only nothing was coming out except for blood.

"Sam? Sam? Sam!" Diana yelled out, causing a series of heavy footsteps to follow shortly after Claire disappeared.

"Hey! Hey, I'm here, what is it?" He stopped short, next to Diana as he looked between her and I, "What happened?"

I gripped my wrist, "Claire..."

He looked around, "Where?"

Diana pointed to the empty spot beside me, "She, she was there…standing next to Abigail."

Sam's eyes widened, "Did she attack you?" Diana shook her head, followed by Sam turning to me, "Did she hurt you?"

I shook my head, "No. No, she was tryin' to talk. Tryin' to make me…follow her? She had ahold of my wrist, tuggin' at it almost." I turned to the window that was blocked by a shelving unit. Then it dawned on me and I grabbed ahold of the heavy unit, "Sam, help me move this thing."

"Alright." The three of us shoved the shelves aside with little effort, revealing the window, labeled from the outside.

Diana shone the flashlight across the wording of Ashland Supplies, "Our little mystery word." We turned to see the shadow on the opposite wall, casting the words into clear reflection.

"Now the extra letters make sense." I murmured, when Sam pulled out his EMF reader, approaching the opposite wall.

Still not understanding our line of work, Diana leaned over to me, gesturing to the reader, "What is that?"

"Spirits and certain remains give off electromagnetic frequencies." Sam answered, moving around the room.

"So if Claire's body was here, that would indicate that?" She hypothesized.

I nodded, "Yeah. Well, that's the theory." The EMF reader purred to life when Sam waved it over the brick wall, making him turn back around to pick up an iron rod from the ground nearby. When he knocked out a sizable hole in the brick wall, he shone his flashlight inside.

"Yeah. Yeah, there's definitely something in there." He called out, making me cross the room to help him break through the wall with elbows and fists flying, "You know? This is bothering me."

"Well, you two are digging up a corpse." Diana mused.

"No, not that." He said, "That's, uh, that's pretty par for the course, actually."

"Then what?"

"It's just, I mean, no vengeful spirit Abigail and I've ever tussled with wanted to be wasted, so why the hell would Claire lead us to her remains?"

"It doesn't make any sense." I grunted out when I slammed a sledgehammer into the wall, breaking it open for the most part, "All right, here. Give me a hand." Together, Sam and I pulled out a shroud-wrapped body and placed it on the ground. Sam pulled out a pocket knife and cut the ropes holding the shroud together, ultimately uncovering Claire. Diana held out her wrists upon seeing the would-be bruises.

"Her wrists." He mused out, "Yeah, they'd be bruised just like yours?"

Then, Diana reached out, touching a necklace on the corpse cautiously, "That necklace mean somethin' to you?" I asked.

"I've seen it before." Diana confirmed, "It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street." She reached into her neckline, pulling out the same necklace, "I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me."

Sam and I looked at each other, "Now this all makes perfect sense." He said, pacing.

"I'm sorry?" Diana asked.

I nodded, "You see, Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen."

"Excuse me?" Diana stood.

"Claire's not killin' anyone. She's tryin' to warn them." I elaborated.

Diana looked to Sam for an explanation, "You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is." There was a moment of silence between the three of us, waiting for Diana to piece the puzzle herself. She, on the other hand, looked perplexed, "Detective, how much do you know about your partner?"

That was when it sunk in. I sensed her horror, "Oh my god."

"What?" Sam asked.

"About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product." Diana explained.

"Someone like a heroin dealer." I mused, finding myself staring down at the remains, "Somebody like Claire." All the pieces where coming together now. Pete, Diana Ballard's partner, was Claire's murderer, meaning that this psychopath was with Dean. I felt a pang of nausea in the pit of my stomach as I brought a hand up to my forehead, "We need to get Dean, and fast." After salting and burning the bones to Claire's remains, Sam, Diana, and I left the warehouse and climbed into Claire's vehicle, going down the highway. We'd been on the road ten minutes when she pulled her cellphone out, dialing a number.

"Yeah, I need to speak to Detective Pete Sheridan, this is his partner, Detective Diana Ballard." She fell silent for a moment, waiting for a reply, "Alright, thanks." Diana said as she finished a call on her cell phone. Sam, who was sitting up front looked over at her.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Pete just left the precinct." She stated, "With Dean."

Mine and Sam's hearts sunk, "What?" We asked in chorus.

Diana glanced to the both of us, "He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio."

"Radio? He took a county vehicle?" I asked.

Diana nodded, "Yeah." I looked up to Sam, who nodded.

"Well, then they should have a lo-jack, you've just gotta get it turned on." Sam told her, and within a few minutes, he had it activated. Come to find out, we weren't too far behind them. Driving down a two-lane backdrop, we drew ever closer…that was until I noticed that Pete's ride had remained stationary. That made my heart pound harder in my chest with apprehension. Knowing how Dean was in a situation like his, he'd stall for as long as he could and go down swinging. My eyes stayed fixed on the dot as we closed in on Pete and Dean's location. It wasn't until we were half a mile down the road from them when Diana had turned off all lights and killed the engine. Granted the distance wasn't a far trek, but I could already feel Dean's apprehension and Pete's animalistic desire to end Dean's life.

I was the first to get out of the car, followed by Sam and Diana shortly after. We sprinted up the road until the transport vehicle came into view. In the light of the tail lights, I saw two figures; one with a gun pointed to another who was on their knees.

"Wait! Wait." I heard Dean say quickly, "Let's-let's talk about this. I mean, you don't want to do something that you're gonna regret later." I heard the cock of the gun, "Or maybe you do."

"Pete!" Diana shouted, "Put the gun down."

"Diana? How'd you find me?" He sounded genuinely sorry that she had to be there and find out the truth. He aimed the gun at Dean, and I felt my heart constrict from dread.

"I know about Claire." She told him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Pete denied. My face was burning with anger—not my own, but his. He'd been caught red-handed.

"Put the gun down!" Diana ordered.

"Oh, I don't think so." Pete said, shaking his head at her, "You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster."

Diana then switched tactics, "Why are you doing this?"

"I didn't do anything, Diana." He objected, looking over to her again.

"It's a little late for that." Her tone steeled.

"It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice." I glanced over to the male detective, debating my chances of getting in the way, until I met Dean's gaze. He knew what I was going to do should things go south. I tried to keep the fact that his fate rested in the hands of a detective, whom Sam and I knew for a few hours. My opinion about her was beginning to change a whole lot. Seeing her confront her partner who'd gone AWOL and postal was shedding a new light.

"And Tony? Karen?" She prompted.

"Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything." As I inched closer to get within range, I noticed Dean glance over to Sam and I, shaking his head. That was when I felt Sam grip my elbow. My heart sunk when I turned to look back at him. With gritted teeth, he shook his head at me in a silent 'no'. With wide eyes, I looked back to Dean, "It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked."

"How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?" Diana implored.

"There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag."

"Hey!" Dean protested at the name Pete had given him. It was mentally jotted down with the numerous other's I'd heard throughout the day; each one holding a certain degree of anger towards those who had said it and a certain degree of anguish towards Dean. He'd received them over nothing. When Pete raised the gun, Dean then backed off, raising his hands in surrender.

"No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you." He told her. When Diana relinquished her gun, Pete's face read relief, "Thank you." He breathed out, "Thank you." As he turned back to Dean, Diana brought her gun up and fired, hitting her partner in the stomach. He went down as Dean rolled out of the way.

Diana approached him, glaring, "Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?" Pete tackled her legs, knocking her down. As Diana fell, her gun flew from her hand. Sam tried to go for it, only to stop when Pete clambered over to it first.

"Don't do it! Don't do it!" He warned, getting up unevenly. At the same time he had stopped Sam, I had mine already out; aimed for his head. Pete's eyes widened, moving the gun back and forth between Sam and I.

"You're gut shot—you're gonna die anyways." I said coolly, "Drop the gun."

"You're her." I looked behind him to see Claire's ghost behind him, staring through her bloody hair, smiling. In that small window of opportunity, Diana recovered a weapon; Pete's gun, and shot him in the back. This time when he went down, he stayed down. Tucking my gun in the back of my jeans, I rushed over to Dean, practically sliding a few feet like a baseball player where I met his handcuffed hands wrapping around me tightly. I squeezed my eyes shut, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm okay," I heard him tell me comfortingly, then kissed the side of my face, "I'm okay."


October 25th, 2006

Clearing—Morning

As the sun began to come up, Diana was kneeling by Pete's corpse. Her face was pale, etched in a horrified expression. Sam, Dean, and I were standing nearby watching her.

"You reckon someone should check on her?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged from beside me, "I don't know, what do you think?" He asked, glancing to me.

"Probably," I said, tilting my head until it was resting on Dean's shoulder. When Diana stood up finally, she approached the three of us. Her heart was breaking, everything within her was a chaotic mess. It was understandable considering that the man she'd been sleeping with was actually a killer, and to cover up his tracks, tried to kill my boyfriend. "You doin' alright?" I asked.

Diana shook her head at us, "Not really." She admitted, "The death omen Claire. What happens to her now?"

"Should be over." Sam said, "She should be at rest."

"So, uh. What now, officer?" Dean asked her, uncertainty lacing his words. His grip around my waist tightened ever so slightly.

"Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally." She said, looking between Sam and Dean, "I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed."

"You'd take care of that for us?" Sam asked, genuinely shocked at the news.

"I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless... I just happened to turn my back, and the three of you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped."

"Wait, are you sure?" Dean and I turned to look at Sam as if he grew another head.

"I'm pretty sure she's sure, Sam." I spoke for her.

"No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that." Sam told her.

"Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night." She said before turning to go, "Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for both of you right now."

Watching her gesture to Sam and Dean, I smiled sheepishly, "Yeah…so, about that…uh, would there be any way of not mentionin' my existence? I'm not even supposed to be alive." That question seemed to have caught Diana off-guard, "Long story."

"I'll see what I can do," She said with an amused smile, "Get out of here. I gotta radio this in."

"Hey, uh, you wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?" Dean asked.

I placed an endearing hand on his shoulder, "It's safe." I told him before I met the woman's confused look.

"It's at the impound yard down on Robertson—" Her eyes widened a fraction, "Wait, you-?"

"What can I say?" I said with a smile, as Dean grinned at me, "Also, Diana?"

"Yeah?"

I hesitated, "I want to apologize—"

She held up a hand, "Don't. You had every right to be angry. I shouldn't have let Pete say what he did. From what I've seen tonight, there isn't a doubt in my mind that you and Dean have been through a lot, and for that, I'm sorry." I nodded, speechless, "Now, go."

She didn't have to say anything else, Dean, Sam, and I turned on our heels to start walking back down the road.

"Nice lady." Sam commented.

"Yeah, for a cop." I shrugged.

"Did she look familiar to you?" Dean suddenly asked, causing Sam and I to rattle our brains for some sort of recognition.

"No, why?" Sam asked, shoving Dean playfully. I smiled at the two of them as we continued walking.

"I don't know." He said, "Anyway, are you guys hungry?"

Sam shook his head, "No." He said, while I proceeded to say "God, yes!"

"For some reason I could really go for some pea soup." Dean said.

"I'm with you on that one," I agreed. Sam and Dean then looked over to me, "What?"

Dean halted, "You know what."

"Yeah, how'd you know we were in trouble?" Sam questioned.

I shrugged, "Mother's intuition." Dean arched a brow at me, "So I may or may not have been…trackin' ya'll's cell phones." Both men exchanged a surprised look, "I got worried okay? When I saw that you two were stationary in the jail, I came out on the first flight to Baltimore, then went and got my bike from storage."

"So, who's watching Megan?" Dean asked.

"Really, Dean? You really gotta ask me that?" I questioned him, arching my brow at him. He shrugged meekly, knowing the answer was going to be Bobby.


Five Hours Later

Charleston, West Virginia

Charlie and Kara's House—Day

Due to the police looking for Dean and Sam's whereabouts in Maryland, we thought it to be best to hideout at Charlie and Kara's place for a couple of days. They were more than gracious to do let us stay even though the awkwardness of Dean and I's breakup fight still seemed fresh. Dean and I were sitting on the bed, talking to Bobby; who had been with Megan for the better part of the day. Much to Dean and I's relief, her overall health had been improving, but due to a fever her odds of leaving the hospital within a few days were slim. That had been the dampener of our day.

"Thanks Bobby, we owe you." Dean said, placing a hand on my thigh.

"No problem." Bobby's gruff voice replied, "As busy as I've been today, I'm glad to be here." I noticed Dean's lips quirk up into a smile, "When you three headin' back?"

"I want to say we'll be heading out after things up in Maryland cool down, so, a few days?" Dean replied, "We're also thinking about laying low at your place when Megan gets outta the hospital, if that's okay."

"My place is yours, Dean. You know that." Bobby replied, "So give or take a few days?"

Dean nodded out of habit, "Yeah, we're hoping shorter, but it really depends. We may run into a job on the way there, plus I gotta follow behind Abs; she'll be riding her two-wheeled death trap back." I scoffed, shoving him playfully as he chuckled.

"Alright, well, we'll be here." Bobby said, "Talk to you idjits later." Dean closed the phone shut, then tucked it under his chin. We sat in silence. It was clear that Megan was fighting to stay strong, but it was also beginning to become hard to push through each hurdle life tossed at us.

I leaned forward until my elbows were resting on my knees and my head in my hands, "I don't think I can handle much more of this…"

"You heard Bobby, she's doing better and they were keeping a close eye on her." Dean said gently.

"I know." I muttered, running my hands down my face roughly. I was exhausted, so was Sam and Dean. Everything was beginning to sink in all over again; Megan's premature arrival, her health getting better then getting worse, yesterday's events…it was a wonder I hadn't started crying. That was until Dean gathered me in his arms, and pulled me onto the bed where we laid together. I had already clamped a hand over my mouth in order to muffle the choked sound, fighting with myself to quit crying—even if it was just for a minute.

"Hey. Hey, everything's okay," Dean murmured into my hair gently, running a hand down my back, "I'm okay, Sam's okay, you're okay, even Megan—you're just tired. Hell, we all are."

"I just want our daughter to be out of the hospital." I said hoarsely.

Dean's lips were pressed against my temple, "God, me too." He agreed, "As soon as she gets out, I'm taking her far away from there so that it's just the four of us; you, me, Sam, and Megan." He tilted my chin up in order for me to look at him. His face was etched with worry, struggling with himself to not dwell on the bad things, "Deal?"

Slowly regaining composure, I nodded, "That sounds like a plan."

"We'll lay low for a while. No jobs." I glanced up at him through tear-soaked lashes, giving him an unsure onceover of what he'd just said, "What?" Dean asked, innocently.

"You? Not taking a job? It sounds impossible." I said wiping away stray tears.

He shrugged, "Nothin's impossible, babe." He rested his head on an arm, "Thought we'd never be parents, but here we are with an eleven-week old." I hummed half-heartedly at that. Dean was speaking the truth. We'd always thought we'd get off Scotch-free. Me and him hadn't even thought about a family, but like he said, here we were. From beside him, I felt his body tense up, soon followed by a heart-wrenching sensation in my chest.

"What is it?" I asked quietly.

"Nothing." Dean murmured.

"Dean…"

"Okay, okay. I get it, you know somethin's up." He said relenting as he sat up on his elbows, "It's just something that douchebag detective was saying in the interrogation room…"

"What part?" I asked, "Everything?"

His eyes softened, "Well, yeah…that and the fact he made it a point to mention that we're not…" He gestured his head, "you know."

"Married?" Dean nodded, growing quiet. Married. That one word was heavy enough drown a person, "Why should it matter that we're not married?"

"I dunno," He replied, lying back until we were looking at each other with turned heads, "I mean, it doesn't seem too hard."

I arched my brow slightly, "You realize marriage is a whole new level of commitment, right?"

Dean made a face, "Of course I do!" He scoffed, putting his arms under his head, "I can commit to anything in my sleep."

"A'ight," I said slightly curious and wary at the same time at where this was heading to, "Name one thing you've committed yourself to."

"Baby. Sam. Pies." I rolled my eyes at that, "Classic Rock."

"Okay, so that's four." I said, "Anyth—"

"You and Megan." My mouth hung open slightly, still ready to say, 'anythin' else?' but those two measly words never came out. Instead, I found myself fighting back a shy smile and the fact that my face felt like it was on fire out of embarrassment, "I've stayed committed to you since day one—that's gotta be something."

"I know, but…" My shy smile disappeared for a second, only for it to be replaced with uncertainty, "Could you really spend your whole life with me? After all we've been through lately?" I asked.

"Definitely." He said, sitting up, "We've made it this far. I mean, we have a kid already…" His shoulders lifted up once again in a small shrug, "Why not give it a shot?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing from him, "You're serious." I deadpanned, knowing that he was being totally serious right now.

"Of course I'm serious." Dean told me.

"You, Dean Winchester, want to get married?" I prompted. Dean looked at me with considering eyes as I shook my head, "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Dean mused, "There's gonna be a lot of brokenhearted women out there." I smacked his leg playfully, earning a cheesy grin from him, "So, what do you think?"

"You had no influence from Sam?" I asked.

Dean rolled his eyes, "What? Of course not! I can think for myself sometimes!"

I thought about it for a second, then nodded, "Okay."

Dean stiffened, "Okay, what?"

This time I rolled my eyes, "Okay, as in, 'Okay, I'll marry you', short bus."

It took Dean a few seconds to let what I said sink in before he reeled back, brows raised in surprise, "Really?" A shy smile tugged at the corners of my mouth when I nodded slowly in response. Dean let out a soft huff, "Son of a bitch." He turned his head till he was looking up at the ceiling in a daze. We were silent for a moment or two until I turned onto my side and propped my head up on my arm.

"So…what now?" I asked.

Dean's eyes met mine in a bewildered fashion, "I haven't really gotten that far, to be honest." He admitted. I took my freehand to run my fingertips along the side of his face, jawline, and neck.

"Sure you do." I told him, finding a new spur of confidence, "You always figure things out before you even know it."

Dean smiled, "And you have blind faith in me."

"Maybe I do," I mused, "But you do the same for me."

His hand reached up to take mine, "I don't have a lot of money, Abs, but I want to do this right. I can't afford a ring, but I promise you, you'll have one." His eyes remained fixed on me, "No credit card scams, none of the money Charlie's wired to us—nothing. I'm going to get the money."

"Dean, I don't need a ring—"

"But I want you to." He said, "When I do get it, I'll do this over. The next time, it'll blow your mind." He grinned at me, "What do ya say?"

I laughed, "Sounds like a plan."


A/N: Hey guys! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get this out. I've been swamped with photography homework. I'm in two classes now and managing my time between writing and school is so rusty. Thankfully I'm almost done with the classes and I'll be soon going back to only one in two and a half weeks, so chapters should be rolling out like they normally were! I really hope that this chapter is good, I've spent enough time on it!

I try my best to get chapters done in a week, week and a half depending on things around me. On these past two occasions, it took me longer. So, here's 'The Usual Suspects' (finally)!

Also! Yea or nay on Sam staying behind in "Crossroad Blues"? I was think about doing it like that, but now I've hit a road block!


I'd love to thank Ladysunshine6 for helping me out with this, as well as offering suggestions. I couldn't get this done if it wasn't for her! So, check out her sister-fic, Ain't Easy in the Big Easy!

I'd like to give credit to everyone in the Supernatural franchise as well as any television series I may mention. If anyone notices a familiar quote from an episode, movie, or whatever; just know they are not mine. All credit goes to the respected franchise.

Creative criticism is welcome as long as it is respectful! Let me know how I'm doing by reviewing (it could be short and sweet, or long, your choice) or you can simply PM me or you can get a hold of me via Tumblr! I love receiving fan-mail for all three!


The song for this chapter: Here's to Us by Halestorm


grapejuice101- Thank you! It's been a long and difficult road for her and Dean, that's for sure!

angelicedg- Thank you! I actually loved Jo and her impact on Dean, but in this story, she's a little hostile and a little bit of a shithead to Abigail, which may end up being a good thing in the long run. Potential big sis/little sis friendship?

Guest- Thank you! I appreciate your kind words!

ebonywarrior85- Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I hope you like this chapter!

sarahmichellegellarfan1- Howdy! Thank you! Like I was telling angelicedg, I loved Jo. I believe in the chapter, I wanted her to seem hostile and a shithead because of that, in which, Dean made it clear that he wasn't interested in her. When Megan does come home, it'll be Bobby's for a while where the four of them will take turns watching her; i.e. Bobby will watch her letting the three of them go, then Sam could stay behind and watch her letting Dean and Abigail go, then Abigail could stay behind letting Dean and Sam go, and even Dean could stay behind (but that would be unlikely of him, wouldn't it?)

Guest- Thank you so much! I greatly appreciate your kind words. Reading your review was what I needed to read this morning! Definitely made me smile! I hope to see you around! (: