***LINDSAY***

"Duck!"

A kitchen knife soared across the room straight for Dean's neck. If Rose hadn't called out just in time, he'd have been skewered. He dropped to his knees, the knife slamming into the wall over his head.

"What the hell is happening?!" screamed the witch's idiot husband.

"Your wife is a crazy bitch is what's happening," Dean grumbled. He swiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and lead the husband behind the kitchen bench. "Stay low. We'll tell you when it's safe to come out."

"But Lindsay -"

"Lindsay has been cheating on you for about a month now," Rose told him.

"What? With who?!"

"Satan."

Rose was in the process of brewing some witch-killer concoction in a big mixing bowl; darting about the kitchen, plucking out various herbs. They'd already tried the simple bullet-to-the-head option to take the bitch down, but apparently she'd cast some sort of invincibility spell on herself. The only way to stop her now was to reverse the spell.

"Raaaagh!" Lindsay shrieked, tearing through the hallway toward them. She thrust her hands out, sending a burst of force into the kitchen. The fridge popped out of its sockets and collapsed with an enormous SMASH! onto the tiles. Icy liquid sept out of the broken doors.

"Sam, keep working on the spell," Rose demanded, "we'll hold her off."

"How the hell are we gonna do tha -?" Dean started, only to be interrupted by Rose running head-on for Lindsay with two combat knives in hand.

Rose slashed at Lindsay's shoulder with one of the knives and the skin broke apart, sizzling out blood. Lindsay shrieked.

"What the - what happened to the invincibility spell?" Sam asked.

"Blades dipped in holy water," Rose grunted, "won't kill her, but it'll hurt like a bitch." She jabbed one of the knives into Lindsay's neck and tossed the other one into the air. "Dean, heads up!"

Dean caught the knife at its hilt and charged the witch at his sister's side. The cut and poked and jabbed and slashed until Lindsay was practically in shreds, but she never backed down. If anything she just got angrier.

Without warning the oven burst alive, columns of flames raging out of each surface burner. Sam jumped back before his eyebrows could sear off. "Woah!"

"Get that damn spell done already!" Dean yelled.

"I need something else," he claimed, "a piece of her genetic code!"

"On it," Rose growled. She stepped in on the witch, reaching for her hair. "Dean, cover me!"

Dean managed to keep the witch occupied long enough for Rose to slice off a clump of her hair. She tossed it back into the mixing bowl. "There, now finish the spell so we can end this bitc - Dean!"

With a wrathful roar, Lindsay released a burst of pure power and sent Dean flying backwards. He smacked against the wall five feet behind him and slumped to the ground, dazed.

Before Rose could sprint to his aid, a strong bony hand latched around her throat. Lindsay lifted her off the ground by her neck, Rose's feet dangling above the kitchen tiles.

"Sam!" she rasped out. "The…spell!"

"Egredere, egredere, vivente malitiam!" Sam cried. "Spiritus non revertetur in HOC MUNDO!"

Sensing her time coming to an end, Lindsay grew desperate: she tightened her grasp around Rose's neck, eyes wide and crazed. In a low, rasping voice, she hissed, "Ultra non habent veram beatitudinem…" she smiled; a cracked, awful, mess of gums and teeth. "Osculum mihi non cruciaris."

A streak of sheer agony tore through Rose's skull like a giant icicle had just stabbed her brain's limbic system. Against her will, she tried to scream out. She couldn't. Lindsey's grip was too tight. With each passing blink, Rose's world got darker. She wouldn't last much longer.

But Sam had broken the invincibility spell. So Dean, having regained his footing, stormed forward and stabbed his combat knife directly into Lindsey's spine, piercing her heart.

Lindsey froze solid. Rose dropped from her grip onto her hands and knees, spluttering out blood. Shortly after, Lindsey came toppling down with one final wheeze of a breath. Dead.

"Oh my God," the husband peered his head over the kitchen counter, "Lindsey."

"Sorry for your loss," Rose coughed out rather unsympathetically, wiping blood off with the back of her hand.

"Rose," Sam said. He dropped down by her side at the same time Dean did, helping her to her feet. "We got you, we got you."

"It's cool," she wheezed, "I'm good."

"Rose you're coughing up blood," Sam said, "there may be internal bleeding."

"She was holding onto you long enough to cause some damage," Dean agreed.

"Call 911," Rose sighed, "the widow will probably need a good once-over. And someone to clean up the mess." She suddenly looked very tired, like all the adrenaline from the hunt had drained out of her. "Can we please just… get out of here?"

Sam and Dean shared a look. They softened. "Yeah, baby girl," Dean whispered. He wrapped an arm around his sister's shoulders and kissed the top of her head. "Let's go home."

The fading blankets of night across the sky wrapped around the Impala as the trio drove back to the motel. Once they got there, there'd be no waiting around. After a hunt was finished, you left town ASAP. No time for goodbyes.

"I know we all just wanna crash," Dean sighed, eyes on the road, "but you know the drill: grab your crap, stuff it in a bag, and hit the road again. You can sleep on the drive back to Mississippi."

"Uh, Dean," Sam murmured. He nodded into the backseat. "Might be a little late for that."

Dean glimpsed at Rose, passed out cold in the back, through the rear view mirror. He smiled. God, she looked so…young when she slept. Like she was five years old again. Sometimes he forgot how much he missed that.

Suddenly Sam froze. "Hang on - are you sure we should be letting her sleep so soon after almost getting strangled to death?"

Dean pursed his lips. "Dunno. What I do know is this looks like the first proper shut-eye Rosie's got in weeks, and I'd rather not be the one to screw that up."

So they let Rose sleep, packed her things up at the motel, and took off on the road again. At 90 k's an hour, they'd make Batesville, Mississippi by midday.

As they drove, Dean couldn't help but glance over at his brother in the passenger seat. Sam was glaring out the window but couldn't seem to see past the glass, like his mind was blocked. That was never a good sign.

"Sammy," Dean said, "what's going on in that head of yours?"

Sam sighed. After a pause, he said, "Are you sure she'll go through with it?"

"Who?"

"Rose. With her deal. We let her hunt, now it's her turn. Will she pull through?"

Dean sighed. "She won't like it, and sure she'll resist, but she'll put in her half of the bargain."

"Yeah, but for how long?"

"I dunno," Dean admitted, "probably until she sets her eye on the next hunt."

Sam went quiet again. This time the quiet only lasted a couple minutes before, in a small voice, he said, "You were right."

Dean scoffed. "Can you say that again? I wanna record it so I can play it back later."

"I'm serious, Dean. You were right about Rose - hunting isn't good for her, even if we got something out of it too this time. I saw her out there the way you do; she's reckless. Damned good at what she does, but she'll do anything for the kill. Sacrifice…anything." He shook his head. "It's not just that she'd lay down her life, cause we all would, it's that there might be a part of her that wants to. Going to the job like that every day…it'll kill her for sure. And I don't think I can live with that."

Dean glanced over at his brother. "So that's it then. No more hunting?"

"No more hunting," Sam confirmed.

Dean sighed, checking his sister out in the rearview mirror again. "She sure as hell ain't gonna like that."

Sam bit his lip. "…bags not being the one to break the new rules."

"Uh-uh man. I don't think so," Dean said. "We'll flip for it."

So Sam pulled out a coin. "Heads or tails?"

"Heads."

Ding-smack! Sam caught the coin on the top of his hand. He revealed the verdict, looked up at Dean, and grinned.

Dean cursed, "Damn."

"Ahhh," Sam laughed. He leaned back in his seat and slumped down a couple inches, getting ready to sleep. "Sweet dreams, Dean."

"Sweet dreams yourself, dickbag," Dean grumbled back.

The last thing Sam remembered before drifting asleep to the rumbling of tires on the highway was his laughter carrying him away.