"Thanks, Mrs. Ramsey." Sam smiled at the elderly hospital volunteer as the trio climbed from her car. "You sure didn't have to drive us all the way back out here, but thank you."

The matronly woman pointed her finger in Sam's face. "Now you kids be careful out here. I don't want to read about you in tomorrow's news, you hear?"

"We will, Mrs. Ramsey," Mindy assured her, patting her hand. "We have Sam here to protect us."

The woman shook her head. "Protect you? One good puff of wind would blow this boy over like a falling tree. I can't for the life of me fathom why you kids want to go off alone like this." She bent down to stare up at Sam as he stood beside the passenger door. "You know people have been killed out here. Murdered! Big as you please."

Ray giggled. "We'll be safe, Ma'am. Honest. We're pretty smart."

"Well." The woman harrumphed, "Just get back to your folks in one piece is all."

"We will!" They promised her as she pulled away. The stood as a single unit, watching her leave, then Ray jumped on Sam's back and wrapped her sneakered feet around his slim waist. "Onward!" She ordered, pointing to the edge of the park where the trail disappeared into the woods.

Sam shook his head, smiling. He picked up his pack and toted her small frame across the playground. "Yes Ma'am. I live to serve, Ma'am."

Ray slid down, faking horror. "Did you just Ma'am me, Sam? Don't make me kill you. People have been murdered out here you know." She shook a finger in his face. "MURDERED, I say!"

Mindy giggled. "Geez, Ray. You should just like her. What are you, eighty?"

Ray turned her finger on her friend, "Murdered! A good puff of wind blew them straight away!"

Sam snorted at that, which, in turn, set Mindy to chuckling. Then Ray joined them until all three were nearly helpless with laughter.

Ray hopped up on Sam's back again, covering his eyes this time. "You can't see this, Sam." She advised. "You're too young. There could be corpses in those woods." She slid down again.

"Corpses in the copse?" Sam teased.

"Corpses in the copse!" Ray repeated, and ran into the woods.

###

Three hours later, Sam felt a weird sort of fatigue settling in. He blamed it on his injuries and on the day he'd spent in Urgent Care with the girls. Who knew what kind of germs were floating around waiting rooms these days?

Even more disconcerting, however, was the … the rage? Sam shook his head, glancing behind him once to check on the girls.

This anger was new to him. Sure, he'd gotten angry enough at Dad to call him out and to call him names, but this felt … different.

Sam's hand slipped down to pat at the silver knife he wore on his belt. There was no mystery there; he'd used the thing more times than he could count to take out vampires and werewolves. He'd sliced his brother with it once and Bobby too - back when there was a chance they both might not have been what they seemed.

And always, without fail, he'd hated the feeling. Sinking a blade into flesh - even inhuman flesh - never felt right to him because deep down inside, didn't he believe that all living things deserved the opportunity to thrive?

He snorted, imagining his dad's reaction should he ever let that thought escape into the light of day.

Yeah, that would … yeah … no. Sam chuckled to himself.

But the weird thing was … ever since this morning, he actually WANTED to find an opportunity to use his knife. All the while he'd been walking, he'd been on the lookout for something to … kill.

Suddenly, the idea of thrusting his knife into warm flesh was exhilarating.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Sam's hand went to his forehead, and he rubbed the spot absently. He shimmied out of his pack and let it drop onto the leaf litter below. Sinking down, he leaned quietly back against the trunk of a crooked jack pine and waited for the girls to catch up. Closing his eyes, he drifted off, hands fiddling absently with the rusted dog tags that still hung loose against his chest.

Ray was ahead of him on the trail, her long brown hair swaying silently with each graceful step she took.

Sam watched her as she walked. Unaware of his scrutiny, she tripped lightly along, her every step graceful, and Sam tilted his head a bit as she came to a small log crossing the trail. He felt a thrill go through him as she hopped easily up onto and then over the obstruction, landing lightly as a doe.

He grunted.

Looking down, he saw a knife clutched tightly in his left hand. It was longer than his own and more like a dagger than a survival knife. Sam recognized it as a Gerber Mark II. His dad had one, and when Sam had asked about it once, John had simply frowned and shaken his head.

"You don't need that." His father had said, not unkindly. "That knife was designed with the killing of humans in mind, Sam. And we don't kill humans. That's why you never see it leave the trunk." John had shrugged. "Just something left over from my old military days, son." He'd offered, slamming the trunk down. The older man had been gloomy and irritable the rest of the day, so Sam had never asked about the knife again. He'd researched it though, when his dad wasn't around, and he knew what it looked like and how it was used. He flexed his grip.

Though he'd never held Dad's dagger, this knife felt right in his hand.

It felt good.

He felt powerful.

Sam quickened his step to catch up with the girl in front of him.

"Dinah," He heard himself say, his hand falling heavily on her slight shoulder.

And when she gasped in shock, he spun her around and smiled. His eyes lit up then because the look of fear on her face was perfect.

Sam raised his left hand.