The Art of Seduction

"Where's Dean?" Marissa asked finally, after they'd finished eating.

Sam had left her and Andrea for a few hours while he researched about the bloody writing and the walking dead, and then returned with food only to find that Dean was still missing. He wasn't worried about him, figuring that he was using the time to cool down and maybe even with that waitress from earlier. He didn't think that Andrea would particularly appreciate that guess, especially if she hadn't drawn that conclusion yet.

"He's out, cooling off," Andrea said, smiling apologetically.

"You got into an argument with him."

"Yeah, he sort of blamed me for not looking out for you, when we're friends and all."

"He's upset, Sam is too. They're worried I got caught up in their bad luck." Marissa smiled slightly as he whirled to look at her. "No, I can't read minds. But I've… Well I've known you for so long that I know how you two are…" she smiled apologetically.

"You haven't even known us for two days," he retorted. "You've observed us for the rest."

"To me it's like knowing you," she replied softly, looking at him through her hair. She impatiently brushed it to the side, "I've seen you die, and I've seen you come back. Sam, I've seen practically everything you've ever done. Some I wish I hadn't, and hell, I wish I could give you the privacy you deserve. But Ican't. I don't choose what I see."

"Why do you see it?"

She blinked in surprise, and slowly turned away. "I-I don't know." She looked back at him, "I wish I did. I've wondered all my life why me. Why do I see it? Do you know how hard it is for parents to believe a four year old talking about monsters and brothers in what sounded like a great story to them?" Marissa shook her head firmly. "I was lucky they didn't send me for psychiatric help, they just thought I had a great imagination and had me write everything down."

"Any idea why it's us that you've seen?"

"I…" she paused, choosing her words carefully. "I think it's because you and your brother are important to this world and its survival. Beyond that, why I don't see global disasters and whatnot? I don't know."

"How do you live like this?" Andrea asked, awe filling her voice. "I mean, I would go nuts if I had this gift and no set purpose in life. I thought –well assumed that you knew more."

She shook her head sadly, worrying her lip, seemingly unaware of it. "I wish I did…" She paused, looking at Sam, her gaze lingering before she turned away again.

She did have one purpose that she was aware of, that she had been clinging to since she was seven. It was a pretty pathetic one, really, but she'd known that she was going to marry Sam since then and she knew she had to bring him back from the brink. Sometimes, she'd thought it was all just a dream. Sometimes, she'd wondered if Sam was even real. Most of the time though, she'd known he was real, that he was out there.

A brief vision slammed into her mind, and she whimpered, pressing her hands to her head, willing the pain away as she tried to focus on the vision. Andrea blocked Sam, keeping him from Marissa, allowing her to concentrate further. The pain receded abruptly and she leaped headfirst into the vision.

"So Dean…"

He looked at Perry curiously, watching her as she circled him. She told him that her name was an unfortunate one, and she did loathe it, but there wasn't much she could do with it. Dean had to agree that it was most certainly a weird name for a woman, but people can't help with what name they were born with.

"I've really enjoyed your company these last few hours…"

"But?" he pressed, dryly as he buckled his belt, his shirt sitting beside his boots. He reached for his socks, "It's time for me to go?"

"Yeah. Look, my boyfriend will be back any moment now and he won't be happy to see that I've… had a guest."

He chuckled, "Course he wouldn't. You're beautiful Perry, and any man who leaves you for more than a day is a fool."

She smirked, a haunting thing of beauty, stretching idly. Dean's eyes were practically glued to her. "I told him that, and you know, I think my last lover did too actually."

"What happened to him?" he had pulled his socks on, and was reaching for his boots.

She turned to him, grinning. "He died."

Marissa panted softly as she came out of the vision, forcing the pounding headache back. Visions like this were usually nothing –she had them all the time but for some reason this one was particularly draining. And the fact that she couldn't see anything more concerning Dean was particularly alarming.

"What did you see?" Sam demanded. Andrea moved out of his way, shooting Marissa a concerned look.

"D-Dean, he's with a woman… Perry? He was fine!" she added hastily. "At that moment, he was fine b-but he won't be. She's gonna do something to him, I think. I don't know. I can't see… I-it's sorta like something's blocking my visions but that's-!"

"Look it's either like that or not," Sam snapped. "Is something blocking you?"

"I-I dunno. It's never happened before…"

"Do you ever know anything about your gift?"

Marissa flinched, "Oh, so it's all my fault! I know when you were seeing things you didn't have answers either!" she shouted in frustration. Exhaustion was worming its way into her body, and there was a dull ache in her skull.

Sam froze, his green eyes narrowing into a furious glare at her. "My answers weren't so pleasant," he growled.

"I didn't mean- I'm sorry…"

"Hey! You don't need to be such a stuck-up jerk!" Andie snapped, shifting so she was in Sam's way and when he tried to avoid her she moved so that she remained in his way. "She's in pain and tired and you're yelling at her!"

"I'm worried about my brother!"

"Oh really?" she sneered. "Seems more like you're too worried about Dean, because there are other people here and maybe you would have remembered what it's like to have a vision, seeing as you've had them before. You can't blame your problems on Marissa!"

He cringed a little and Andrea stepped back, apparently satisfied with what she'd told Sam. He turned to look back at Marissa and she avoided meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry… Are you… Are you okay?"

She nodded, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze. "I think you should go ah, find him."

"I bet it was the waitress!" Andrea announced. She glanced over at her friend, "You'll be alright while we leave?"

"Uh-huh. I'll just… take a nap." She lay back down, amongst the pile of pillows. Suddenly, sleep seemed like a great idea.

Sam hesitated briefly; he flicked the light off for her, shut and locked the room before following Andrea. He was betting it was the waitress too.

XII

"You can't see him," the jeering voice came from the nothingness that surrounded her. "It would be wise for you to give up."

She whirled around, trying to see past the thick black fog that had spread through the area. If she held her hand in front of her face, she could just barely see it. A bitter scent wafted through and the fog shifted, an even darker shadowy figure outlined in it.

"You can't take my visions away," Marissa protested.

"No, but I can limit them. And besides that, they're just a nuisance to you."

"Don't. Let me see him please? I have to help them."

"You just think you have to –you don't though. You know your purpose is to save Sam –not Dean. Especially when you're letting him die, or rather will let him die." He cackled, an eerie inhuman sound echoing in the darkness.

"They need me to help them!" she practically whined, desperate to be understood. She had to help the Winchesters. No one else would, or could, and she had a gift that would be invaluable to them. She had to do something with what she'd seen, and she didn't want to give up either. They needed her.

"You just think you do Miss Faith. You fail to understand that you have no place in their lives. They do not need your help; they've done just fine without you for years." A wicked grin materialized in the fog, entirely made of the ghostly phenomenon. "You're just a silly little school girl with a silly little crush."

Marissa flinched as though she'd just been slapped. Maybe she was young. She didn't think sixteen was old, but sometimes it sure felt like it. She'd lived on her own for two years already. And she'd been dreaming of the Winchesters for as long as she could remember. She'd known she would save Sam; pull him back from the edge of despair and bloody chaos. Yet for all that, she didn't know if she would succeed. She saw the currents of the future, happy and sad. And for every happiness, there was always sadness.

"And what if I am?" she cried.

But there was no response, only her voice echoing back at her. Slowly the thick fog faded, a warm salty breeze blowing it back. No one stood there. She was alone, by the ocean. A shudder passed through her and she shifted away, watching the sun rise above the horizon, painting it a gentle rosy hue.

XII

Andrea lingered in the doorway, unsure if the scene she was about to burst in on was going to humiliate her or not. It didn't really matter. Dean was in danger and she knew better than to doubt the psychic. Sam pushed past her and strode up the stairs to where the bedroom (presumably) was. He'd tried calling Dean, but there hadn't been a response and his cell phone GPS had led them here.

Andrea followed after him reluctantly, and just as she was about to go upstairs, the tree leapt free from its pot and wrapped its leafy limbs around her. A startled cry escaped her lips, as she struggled futilely. She swore she could see a face in the flexible, nubile bark with leaves outlining the body. She saw Sam open the door and get dragged in, leaving her alone to fight this wood creature.

"Relax," the strange thing cooed.

Andrea struggled harder, trying to get ahold of one of her knives. She wasn't going down without a fight and there was no way in freaking hell that she would let a tree-thing kill her. Its hold on her got impossibly tighter, more constricting. Every breath she tried to take, it took the opportunity to tighten around her until she could only gasp for breath.

"Stop fighting."

There wasn't much she could do, her vision starting to get black spots. She relaxed herself, grabbing onto the hilt of one of her knives, feeling a little more at ease. The iron grasp around her diaphragm let loose and Andrea sucked in a deep lungful of air, grateful for it.

She kept still as the grasp on her kept loosening, tightening her grip on her knife, and the instant she had enough room, she whirled and stabbed the knife hilt deep into what would have been the thing's chest. Or should have been. Olive green eyes widened in shock and the appearance of a tree half wilted, allowing Andrea to more clearly see the humanoid aspects of the monster. A leafy branch swatted out, knocking her feet out from under her. She grabbed another knife as the tree-thing fell onto her, the knife embedded in her fragile bark yanked out, dripping blood. Andrea attempted to stab her again, but the bloody knife deflected her blow to the side.

She jerked, avoiding the knife that was coming for her. Andrea struggled and shoved the heavy tree-creature off of her, slamming her knife into its chest again. It squealed and squirmed, slashing at her leg. She quickly stepped back as the thing convulsed, slowly dying as it reverted back into a tree. Andrea panted heavily, not aware of how exhausting this had been. She was suddenly aware of her shaking leg and kneeled down, careful of it, taking a breather.

A door slammed and she whirled to look back at it, noticing that Sam was helping Dean out of the room. He was favoring one leg and wearing a muscle shirt with jeans, his other shirts and jacket slung over his back. He looked exhausted. Sam just looked weary.

"What the hell was this?" she demanded, indicating the monster as she got to her feet.

"A nymph," Dean muttered. "That's what Peribaea said anyways." He shuddered slightly.

"His ah, latest girlfriend turned out to be one."

"Don't go blabbing it!" he snapped, glaring at Sam.

"Whatchya gonna do, huh, Mr. Crippled?"

Dean glared at him, "Bitch."

Andrea got up slowly, her leg almost giving out; she quickly adjusted her stance and looked at her leg. Suddenly aware of the wetness trickling down her foot, she pulled her pant-leg up. There was a shallow slash along her shin. She let her pant-leg down again before hobbling after the brothers, out to the Impala. Dean was forced to sit in the passenger seat due to his injuries.

"How's Marissa?" he asked gruffly.

"She's alright. Woke up, ate and talked with us for awhile."

"What happened to her?"

"Brother kidnapped her apparently, but he was possessed. She hit her head and he told her the same thing about Tartarus's Gate opening again."

"And she had a freaky dream," Sam added as he drove.

"How do you know that?" Andrea was shocked; Marissa hadn't said a thing about that.

"Because when I touched her forehead I was zapped into it."

"Whoa. Any ideas on what could cause that?"

"Any sleep god could, and so could any of a few thousand dream gods. Some other creatures I'm sure of, probably a few I haven't thought of. The problem is that I don't know which is any more likely. Currently I'm thinking it's Greek because of the reference to Tartarus's Gate."

"What is that?" she couldn't help but ask.

"In Greek myth, there are three places the dead could go to. The Elysian Fields, for heroes: the Asphodel Fields for everyone else: and Tartarus for evil doers."

"Who would want to open that?"

"A psychopath," Dean growled. "Fuck, it's not enough that they're trying to free Lucifer? Now they've gotta try and free the god of the underworld too?" He leaned back against his seat, glaring out the window.

Sam parked the Impala safely and just before he was about to get out, Andrea spoke up. "I'll help the cripple inside, you go check on Marissa."

"I don't know if…"

"He's not that badly injured," she replied confidently.

"I'll manage."

Sam hesitated, then sighed and handed the keys back to Dean before closing the door and heading up to the motel. Andrea got out and met Dean at his door, helping him out. She couldn't help but wonder what had happened to him. He hobbled out, clearly favoring his leg, putting his arm reluctantly around her shoulders as he closed the door.

"So what happened to you?" Andrea asked cautiously, shifting her weight to better support him.

"Went out with that waitress, had a uh fine time… Went to shower and the friggin' water turned out to be a freakin' naiad and she attacked me. Stabbed me in the leg pretty good, before I hobbled away. That dryad had gotten to the waitress already, and I didn't really have anywhere to escape to. The dryad left and I hauled Sam into the room as soon as I could and he stabbed the thing, bandaged me up shoddily and here we are."

He paused and then glared at her. She had the idea that it was something he was doing because he always did it, rather than her having offended him. Andrea smiled slightly and helped him to the motel.

"Don't say anything," Dean ordered gruffly.

"I won't."

"But you just did," he pointed out.

"You started this conversation!" she retorted, amusedly.

"It doesn't matter."

We stopped at the staircase, and Andrea looked at him. "Are you going to be able to climb it…?" she asked, more seriously.

"Of course," he snapped.

She hurried to keep up with him, supporting him as he started to ascend the stairs. It didn't take long before she realized that she shouldn't have asked him and just went and got Sam. He was trying to be the tough guy, and suffering for it. The pain from her ankle started to burn through her leg as she helped him up the stairs. Two cripples helping each other. If she'd had the energy to spare, she might've burst out laughing at the absurdity of the scenario.

Thank you so much for the reviews!

Enjoy the chapter, have a great day