So, this one has a major cliffhanger, and I feel like Carrie is being dramatic but she's getting the job done. :)

"Deanie-boo, you're awfully slow at patrolling," I whispered good-naturedly at him as I ducked under a branch. "Sorry I'm not genetically programmed for hunting." I rolled my eyes, despite the fact that he couldn't see it, "I'm not genetically programmed - I'm naturally inclined. Get it straight." Obviously, I'm in a great mood.

And really, why shouldn't I be? Sam said Harpies made more sense than those Rashakasa-mabobs, since the Shake-your-bon-bons would probably be an employee and none of the employees have ever been associated with any murders, even if the murders happen at the home every twenty-seven years.

So now the three of us are searching the forest for a possible lair. A HARPY lair! With one guy who is open-minded to the possibility of a Harpy and Dean. Thank God there's only one Dean, because he is complaining like I've never heard him complain before. I don't even know what he's complaining about - he didn't have to come. I was perfectly content letting him sulk at the motel. Sulking because of my VICTORY!

"Well, you guys, I think my flashlight is out of battery. I'll just have to go get some fresh batteries from the car. Dean, can I borrow your flashlight for the way back?" Sam was at the back of our little crew, and I could hear him hit his flashlight against his palm. "Dude, you don't need your own flashlight, just get between me and Ca-" "No, no, I need my own. Just cuddle up and enjoy."

"Sam!" "Shh," I hissed, honestly ignoring everything that didn't pertain to the Harpy. I felt Dean press closer to me as the sound of Sam crashing through the underbrush faded away. I turned on the brother sharply, only half-remembering what Sam had said, "De-" "I need to see," Dean held up his hands innocently, "Trust me - I'd never get so close otherwise. Your body physically repels mine." "And what is that supposed to mean? That I'm not good enough for you and your three-drink lightweight whores?"

Oh, where did that come from? That was snappy, Carrie, in a very cruel, nearly-jealous way. Nearly. I don't have time to be jealous, though, when there's a Harpy on the loose. Not bothering with a reply, I turned back to face forwards, my ears peeled for any movement. Dean didn't share my desire for silence, though, and started to talk a few minutes later.

"So, why the obsession with Harpies?" "Uh, they're half-bird, half-human. Why wouldn't I be obsessed with them?" "Their genealogy can't be the only reason." Oh my god, Dean used a big boy word! Dean continued, mindless to the bragging rights he'd just earned by being smart, "Come on, we've been to a coming out and back. Talk to me." "When I talk, I can't hear the Harpy sneaking up to kill us." "Multi-tasking should be w-" "Who are you two and what are you doing on my land?"

Dean and I turned simultaneously, still stuck front-to-back, squinting at the flashlight shining in our eyes. "Uh-" "My name is Homer, and this is my cousin Medusa," Dean lied easily. Medusa? Oh, he's just lost whatever points he earned by having a brain. "We're looking for little Medusa's dog; we think he ran away when he saw her in her underoos." Dean wrapped an arm tightly around my neck, smiling jokingly at the man with a rifle that I think we all need to be more concerned about.

I shrugged Dean's strong arm off me, trying to keep in character and fight with him as much as possible, "Or he caught a whiff of your morning breath." "You two are looking for a runaway dog in the forest, in the middle of the night?" "Homer here is scared of the sunlight. Think's it's the alien's way of tracking us." Dean slapped my butt unappreciatively, "She's such a jokester. No, no, Medusa's job as a stripper keeps her out all day, working the unpopular shift so she doesn't lose her club money. Dad just doesn't have the heart to fire her."

Well, God Dean - how do you expect me to succeed as a stripper when you give me the name Medusa to work with? Do you realize it's the most unattractive name known to man? The man looked between the two of us, obviously trying to figure out who was crazier, and who he should shoot first, "What does your dog look like?" "Oh, he's just the cutest little hound you've ever seen. Brindled, white spots on his paw, named TOMMY!"

Tommy had wandered off just a few minutes ago, right before this oaf with a deed to the forest came along. My puppy would come to the sound of me screaming his name like I was about to be shot, and this guy can go back to his beat-up recliner, six pack, and infomercials… and I can find a Harpy.



Cruel, but apparently my good Harpy-hunting mood also includes increased impatience. Not that I'm patient by nature anyway, but I can usually bite my tongue, grit my teeth, and wait in the line for the lady's room. But now, this is just… ridiculous. I mean, does anyone here realize the importance of discovering a Harpy? It's kind of on my list of things to do before I die, which in my line of work could happen anytime, so let's get chopping.

Whether or not Tommy realized this, he was at my side post haste. I smiled as I took a firm hold of his collar, "Well, I guess we'll just be out of your hair, thanks for your property." I turned in the opposite direction of the man, and I had slipped out of the line of light within moments.

I could hear Dean smile and try to trade pleasantries behind me, apologizing for waking the guy and all. Like Dean has manners or something. Psh, he probably just wants to throw in a crack about me being a bad stripper again, or something.

Dean, in Tommy fashion, was at my side again in a matter of moments, picking through the underbrush next to me in quiet until we were sure we were alone. "I'm scared of the sunlight?" "My name is Medusa," I questioned. Dean smirked, "I thought that was clever! You know, Homer, Medusa, Harpies, Sam could have been Illiad!" "I don't think the Illiad had anything to do with Harpies... or Medusa." "Oh, come on!"

I smirked at Dean's mishap, "It was a good try, Dean. I would have been very impressed if you could keep all those crazy Greek myths straight in your head." "What did Harpies do?" "Harpies were... Jason and the Argonauts, so Medea might have been more fitting. Or you could have gone the Phineas route." "See, you keep them straight." "I'm obsessed with Harpies - I have to know the legends. It's like asking me why I know self-defense - it's a job requirement."

I quickly shook off the fact that Dean just almost complimented me and concentrated on our surroundings. Where was Sam with that flashlight? It shouldn't have taken him to long, and it's not like these woods are so huge he wouldn't be able to hear us. Dean isn't very good at the whole sneaking idea. He kind of tromps around in these unnecessarily big boots and mutters a lot.

Every now and then, I get the feeling that Dean is actually muttering about killing me. Well, I'm pretty sure there are mutters about me thrown in there randomly, but I think the main focus of the actual muttering is 'how to kill Carrie,' mostly because I'm pretty sure the word 'blood' and something beginning with 'c' is coming up a lot. And do I think this 'c' word is cadaver? No I do not.

Of course, I've got the attention span of a mosquito, and quickly started to hum the song 'Blood' by My Chemical Romance, which made Dean quite obviously tense. "What the hell are you doing?" "Humming," I responded. "Are you humming songs from your Barbershop Quartet?" "No, now shush." "You're the one humming!" "How are we fighting about this?!"

"Just don't hum." "Yes, boss-sir-scum-butt," I replied, stepping ahead of him. Again, there was silence, aside from Dean's stomping. He sighed in an almost ornate way every few minutes, as if woe was him. He really, truly didn't have to come. Maybe he needs an invitation next time. Dear Dean, you are cordially invited to not go hunting with Carrie and Sam - just stay with me and watch cheap porn. Or cry because you're so fugly. Sincerely, the motel room.

"Card-" I turned, my leg lashing out and aiming for Dean's barely five-foot-ten head. He ducked, straightening to reveal his angry, slightly shocked face, "Jesus frickin' Christ, what the hell was that for?!" "Call me-" I paused, How well does sound carry in this particular forest? I shot Dean a meaningful look, "Medusa one more time and I'll leave you for dead, strung by your thumbs!"

"I was trying to apologize for being weird about the humming, and you try to kick me in the face? And all that means I get to be strung up by my thumbs?" "Stop calling me Medusa and we won't have this problem!" "I wasn't saying anything about Me-" Dean's voice died as he realized what I was talking about.

You'd think at the mention of the problem we've been having all summer, he'd realize that it was totally alright for me to kick him in the face. Not just alright, but expected. I've tried violence before, who says I can't give it another shot?

But, because Dean isn't any kind of logical, his brow furrowed more and he started to yell louder, "Are you serious? You're still hung up on that? My god, you just embody every kind of stereotype about women. See, girls like you are why I don't date - you're overdramatic, violent, picky, obsessive, completely and totally blind, hypocritical-"

"Excuse me, I'm blind? Of the two of us, I'm the blind one? You said that a print outside a recently eaten woman's window had no bearing on our case, but I'm blind and stupid." "I never said you were stupid, Card-"

My foot lashed out again in a spin kick, which this time Dean was prepared for. His arm went up to block it naturally, and he threw it to the ground before using the momentum to try and punch me. Oh no, he didn't, I thought to myself as I in turn ducked, reaching out to kick Dean's feet out from under him.

This, though, if my most-used move, and apparently it was just another hit Dean had prepared for. He dove out for me, pinning me to the ground underneath his weight. I could feel his boots digging into my calf painfully, and growled at him accordingly.

The next few seconds were a fight for my arms, which I sadly lost. I mean, it would've been amazing to win in my position, even if I am a slayer. Really - I'm a short lightweight compared to Dean, and he's on top of me. Wait, Dean's on top of me? How did I not realize this?

I struggled, but Dean just sat on me, smirking, "You know, Card-" "Oh, get your mind out of the gutter right now Dean Winchester!" "I mean, you just let me on top so easy and all, I always thought you'd be a firecracker-" "Don't you dare finish that sentence, or I swear I'll start calling you Laverne!" I started to hit at Dean's chest, causing him to flinch but still not move.

Groaning in frustration, "Sam! Tommy!" "Carrie?" "Oh thank god, Sam, you're here. Get your bro-" I looked over Dean's shoulder at the flashlight that was shining in my eye, my jaw dropping as the light moved and revealed the owner. I stuttered in the most embarrassing way possible, the embarrassment compounded with the fact that Dean was straddling me.

"L-L-L-Landon?"