For my reviewers: chase83, megsjedi, JustKillMe21, Wicked Rose06.

Dean walked down the main staircase, still feeling lousy. Adiana had tried her damndest to help, to make him feel better or forget about it entirely, but she couldn't. No one could. He had promised Dad and now Sammy too that if the time ever came where Sammy turned, he would have to kill him. Dean didn't know if he could. He reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. Adiana had suggested that he should sleep, but he told her he was going to take a look around, clear his head. She had seemed about to argue with him, but instead kissed him goodnight before leaving him alone in the room. Now, he didn't even really know what he expected to find.

Just then he heard a clink coming from a doorway next to the front desk. He strolled over and cautiously entered the room. There were small tables set up inside, each with two wooden chairs and a small lamp. The walls were bright white and, against the farthest wall, Sherwin stood behind the counter of a bar, polishing glasses. Dean approached him and he looked up from the shining glass in his hand.

"Find any good antiques?"

"No, no... Got distracted."

"Have a drink." Sherwin reached for a bottle of whiskey as Dean sat down on a bar stool.

"Yeah, thanks." Sherwin poured about an inch in a large glass before pushing it toward Dean. "So, poor guy. Killing himself." Dean took the glass, as Sherwin reached for his own mostly empty glass.

"That kind of thing seems to be going around lately."

"Yeah, I heard about the other ones. It's almost like this hotel is cursed or something." Dean took a gulp of the whiskey. Sherwin eyed the bottom of his glass, frowning.

"Every hotel has its spilled blood. If people only knew what's gone on in some of those rooms they've checked into." He took a long drink. Dean considered him meditatively for a moment.

"You know a lot about the place, don't you?"

"Down to the last nail."

"I'd love to hear some stories." Sherwin smiled.

"Boy, you should never say that to an old man. Come on." Sherwin abandoned his drink, but Dean held on to his. They went back to the staircase he had just come down. Sherwin stopped halfway up, pointing to a picture. It was a black and white of a woman in a light shirt and long dark skirt holding onto the shoulders of a young smiling girl. "This is little Miss Susan and her mother, Rose… happier days."

"They're not happy now?"

"Well, would you be? Leaving the only home you ever knew?" Dean shrugged.

"I don't know. I never really knew one."

"Well, this is Rose's home. It's been in the family over a century. It used to be the family estate. And now she gets to live in some senior living graveyard, and they tear this place down," Sherwin said, his anger increasing with each word. Dean gave him a moment to calm down before speaking again.

"That's too bad. I hear Rose isn't feeling well, either." Dean continued up the staircase to the second floor, Sherwin following right behind.

"No, she isn't."

"What's wrong with her?"

"It's not my business to say." Dean looked back at him as they rounded the top of the staircase and moved down the hall.

"Huh." He noticed a picture framed on a side table with a photo of a little girl with poofy hair playing with an arrow. "Who's this?"

"That's Rose when she was a little girl." Sherwin pulled out another picture from behind that one. It showed Rose, a bit older now standing next to a black woman, who was holding open a book. Dean glanced and did a double-take. The woman was wearing a necklace with the same quincunx symbol that was on the urn and the vase.

"Who's that with her?"

"That's her nanny, Marie. She looked after Rose more than her own mother." Sherwin walked over to a mantel with a large empty space and rested the picture against the wall. He stood with his back to Dean for a minute, gazing at the picture. "Well, it's getting late. I should close up. I can take your glass for you."

"Oh, yeah. Thanks." Dean drank the rest of the whiskey down and handed Sherwin the glass.

"Good night, son."

"Night." Sherwin walked back to the stairs and began the trek down. Dean moved closer to the picture.

So the nanny must have taught Rose hoodoo, but what was Rose using it for? Maybe Susan was in on it. She was very quick to insist her mother was ill. He could talk to Rose tomorrow, once Sam and Adiana were awake. It was too late now. Susan and Tyler would be sleeping near Rose's room, and he couldn't risk waking them up and getting thrown out. Dean went back to room 237 and slipped in quietly, locking the door behind him. Moonlight illuminated the room, pooling on the floor next to Sam's bed. Sam hadn't moved from where Dean had left him. He was partially covered, the edges of the comforter rolled over on top of him. Must have been Adiana's doing. Adiana herself was curled up under the covers of the other bed, facing away from him. Dean leaned against the wall, hard wooden boards pressing against his back as he considered his brother curled up almost like a baby in a blanket. Harmless. On the surface at least. He didn't want to believe that Sammy could turn from hisgood little brother into a raging Mr. Hyde. But more and more the odds were looking worse. First, his psychic visions. Then, these other kids with powers popping up. The demon virus that only Sam seemed immune to. And the woman with visions like Sam vanishing. It was all adding up to something. Something bad with Yellow-Eyes written all over it. Something he couldn't figure out. But this thing, whatever it was, he had to save his brother from it now before…

Sighing, Dean craned his neck so that his head nearly hit the wall as he gazed up into the shadowy space above his head. How could he do it? All his life he was told to take care of Sam. Family came first. He'd accepted that. After all, his dad had drilled it into him every day. You stuck with your family. That was the rule. Goddamnit, how could he do it?He'd rather die than do it. And yet… and yet he promised. It was sick and twisted, but he'd promised it anyway. What right did they have to put this on him? It shouldn't be up to him. They'd had enough to deal with this past year without having to go through this. The blows just kept on coming.

That thought weighed on him as Dean brushed his teeth and changed for bed. He tossed his clothes into his bag and kicked it away as he sat down on the edge of the bed he shared with Adiana. The mattress was softer than the average motel room, and he struggled to settle under the blankets without moving the bed too much. It wasn't very successful, for Adiana stirred and rolled over. Her eyes opened, but they were hazy with sleep. He felt bad for waking her up.

"Just me, babe. Go back to sleep."

"Mmmm… did you find anything?" she mumbled.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow. Sleep."

"M'kay. Night." Adiana's eyes fluttered closed and she soon fell back asleep. Dean tried to do the same, but sleep wouldn't come. Thoughts about Rose and hoodoo and Sam flashed through his mind, melding into a kind of static buzzing in his head. Why couldn't he get these thoughts out of his head? He needed a distraction. Soft fingertips brushed against his hand. Perfect. His vision was blurry as he adjusted to the dim moonlight, but as it sharpened he could see the face of the woman next to him. Now, he just needed to focus on her and nothing else.

Her eyelids quivered slightly, as if any moment her eyelashes would part revealing her eyes. Dark hazel eyes that could warn him off with a glance or pull him across the room with the tilt of a suggestive eyebrow. But no, it was just dreaming that caused the movement now, throwing a flickering shadow on the ridge of her cheekbone. Her cheeks were smooth expanses of pale, white skin. He'd hardly noticed how pale it really was, almost like those dolls. No, idiot, don't think about those creepy dolls. Focus. It wasn't always that colorless anyway. He'd quickly found all the right places to touch to bring a bright, pink flush to her face as gasping sounds of pleasure passed between her lips. Full, pink lips that were slightly parted now, a thin upper lip and fuller bottom lip glistening in the light of the moon. She'd press those lips together when she was upset, upper lip almost disappearing, but when she smiled… now really smiled. Not that half-smile-with-your-mouth-closed deal but actually smiled, those lips stretched wide, dimples creasing from those lips all the way up to her nose.

He was always tempted to kiss her then, and she'd eagerly comply wrapping her mouth loosely around his tongue as he tasted her. That was a sensation only bested by having her lips wrapped around something else. And while she picked up pretty fast exactly how to please him, she'd learned that she could tease him too. Once, she'd caught him watching her in the rear view mirror as she was eating her breakfast, some healthy white cereal crap. She began to move her spoon extra slowly, taking time to lick the spoon clean. White drops of the porridge clung to her lips, and after a full fifteen minutes at least of torture she had, on purpose he was sure, let some drip from her spoon down her chin, her delicate tongue licking it away as she continued to eye fuck him in the mirror. He'd had to pull over at the nearest gas station to relieve himself, and she just winked at him when he came out. Oh, but he had gotten back at her in the classic Dean Winchester style. He smirked at the memory. Handcuffs and a little bit of imagination. That was all it took

Waves of dark blonde Kim Basinger hair fell over her forehead, usually parted carefully to the side, but tossed about in sleep, small strands refusing to stay in place and curling out. It was still slightly damp from a shower, but it fell nearly halfway down her back when dry. He loved the way he could lose his hands in that hair and how the silken strands covered the pillow like a halo when they made love. His own naughty little angel. She certainly mentioned God enough, although her hands were never clasped in prayer. They held onto him instead or gripped the sheets as one of her hands was doing at the moment, long fingers curled up. Only her pointer finger stuck out loosely, revealing a shining nail carefully coated with a clear polish. She'd remarked not long ago how strange it was to grow them out.

"I usually cut them for piano," she'd explained and had clacked her nails against a table. "Otherwise it sounds like I'm playing a typewriter. Nothing to play anymore though, so I'm giving it a go." He'd made some comment about having something better to play with, something along those lines. Whatever it was, it had been funny. She had laughed then. Her hands went to her hips, trying to seem stern, but the laughter bubbled up anyway. Her face split in that bright smile as her shoulders shook, bowing in slightly to press against her breasts, shifting them up enticingly. They'd been covered then, but tonight the fabric of her loose fitting t-shirt had tugged down enough to reveal the bare tops of her breasts before the blankets fell on the rest of her body. He took in each detail of her body as she lay there, blissfully unaware in sleep. Sure, she wasn't the knockout he usually picked up for a one-night stand, but then she wasn't a one-night stand.

After Cassie, he'd sworn off any type of long-term relationship. They just weren't worth the trouble and never lasted long with the job. And hey, being single he could bang as many hot chicks whenever and wherever he wanted. It was the perfect system. But then Adiana had changed that. When she first turned up, he'd been convinced that she was some type of creature. He'd been ready to blow her away if she made just one wrong move. Even after they put her through every conceivable test, he'd put in a lot of phone calls and slept with his hand clutched to the knife he kept under his pillow for weeks. He hadn't started trusting her until that Andy kid had used his mind-freak powers to make her tell the truth and nothing but. After that, he started to sleep better and relax more, and he realized something. He liked having her around. She appreciated his jokes and threw in some of her own. She didn't mind listening to his music, sometimes chiming along with the words from the backseat. She knew how to make a really killer apple pie. She was one sharp cookie and wasn't afraid to speak up for herself. She got along with his brother. She had a really nice ass. She gave them new things to talk about on the long rides around in the Impala. But the best part of the whole deal was that he could just be himself around her because she already knew his biggest secret, and she didn't care. All the cards were on the table.

He'd considered finding out if he could just bang her once and get it out of his system. Okay, that wasn't exactly true. He knew he could have fucked her and did he ever want to, but their situation changed everything. Whatever they did, she was going to still be there when they got up in the morning. They were stuck together like Roger Thornhill and Eve Kendell. So he made like Roger suggested. "The moment I meet an attractive woman, I have to start pretending I have no desire to make love to her." He went out and had sex with random chicks, hoping the feeling would go away. It didn't. He'd been close to giving in that Valentine's Day in the parking lot. Hell, he'd been real close with those eyes staring up at him, begging him to close the few inches between them. But once he crossed that line, he knew there'd be no pulling out. Pun intended. And after that, things could either go well or get really uncomfortable. She had been the one to cross the line in the end, and he was almost relieved for it had begun to beat against the inside of his brain almost as much as worrying about Sammy.

They'd never actually talked about their relationship and carved it out. He preferred it that way. Basically, he just stopped sleeping with other women, and she started sleeping with him. Other than that, very little changed. Maybe this wasn't how a normal relationship was supposed to run, but what did he know about normal? He was just a hunter who grew up on the road, and she had just shown up out of the blue with a story about another dimension, kind of like Sarah Connor. Wait, did that make him Kyle Reese or Arnold Schwarzenegger? Either way, they were making it work. Instead of dates, they went on hunts and saved lives. Instead of work vacations, they took a night off going dancing at a club to music that made his ears throb, but Adiana sang right along. Instead of awkward family dinners, the three of them ordered out or shoveled down whatever delicious food she managed to cook up. He was just going to have to take things as they came. And you know what? Adiana was probably right. Sam had been pretty drunk, and he wouldn't remember anything in the morning. Staying up all night wasn't going to solve anything. He'd deal with the problem in the morning. Satisfied, he pressed his lips to the crown of Adiana's head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo as he closed his eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

Adiana woke up to the sound of vomiting. Great, it's like being back in college. Once the sound ceased, she cautiously opened her eyes. Sam was crouched down next to the toilet in just his undershirt and pants.

"Are you going to be okay, Sam?"

"I think-" He leaned down and Adiana shut her eyes quickly, but she still heard it. Now she felt mildly sick. She rolled over, stretching out beneath cool sheets. She was the only one in bed, and she wondered if Dean had come back at all last night. She thought she remembered talking to him, but it was a little hazy. As if on cue, Dean opened the door of the room. Adiana gave him a little nod, curling her hands under the pillow.

"Morning. You're up bright and early."

"Just looking around outside." Dean pulled his jacket off, throwing it on a bureau. "How you feelin', Sammy? I guess mixing whiskey and Jager wasn't such a gangbuster idea, was it? I bet you don't remember a thing from last night, do you?" Sam groaned.

"Ugh, I can still taste the tequila." Dean looked as relieved as Adiana felt. She got up off the bed and grabbed her duffel bag, searching for her clothes for the day.

"You know, there's a really good hangover remedy." Dean watched Adiana pull the t-shirt over her head, revealing her bare back. "It's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray." Sam moaned.

"Oh, I hate you."

"I know you do." Adiana turned to him, clipping her bra in the back.

"Be nice," she said, with only a partially serious frown. He winked at her, and she just rolled her eyes before stepping into the jeans puddle at her feet.

"Hey, it turns out when Grandma Rose was a tyke, she had a Creole nanny who wore a hoodoo necklace."

"So, you think she taught Rose hoodoo?"

"Yes, I do."

"Alright." Sam stood up, pushing off the toilet for support. He shuffled out of the bathroom to where his brother stood. The smell was pretty terrible, a mix of vomit and sweat. "I think it's time we talk to Rose, then."

"You need to brush your teeth first," insisted Dean.

"And a shower might be a good idea," added Adiana. Sam nodded and pushed his duffel bag into the bathroom with his foot, shutting the door. "Well, I was hungry for breakfast but not after that."

The trio gathered outside the door to Susan's room. The hotel was quiet as usual. Sam knocked, three quick raps.

"Hello? Susan?" There was no response. "All clear?" Dean leaned back and checked down the hallway.

"Mm-hmm." Sam crouched down, using a small metal rod to pick the lock of the door. They entered the room with the dolls, silently. Dean moved to the left, turning the knob of a white door. It opened slowly, revealing a wooden stairway. It was dark, dusty light barely filtering in through two windows on the landing.

They crept up the stairs. Adiana was feeling more uneasy all the time. This whole hotel was so eerie and quiet. It was almost as if no one lived here at all. They reached the top of the stairs. A lamp with a dim bulb illuminated a picture of a girl's face on a small desk. At the end of the hallway, a door stood ajar. Adiana barely dared to breathe as they moved to the doorway. Sam pushed it open slowly.

An old woman sat in a wheelchair facing the window. Her hair was white and pulled back in a bun. She had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She seemed to be staring at the rain outside, as it spattered against the window, rolling down the glass. They entered, feet creaking on wooden boards.

"Ms. Thompson?" Sam got no response. "Mrs. Thompson? Rose?" Still no response. They walked around Rose. Rose was indeed very old and, now, very scared. Her eyes flickered back and forth. She made no attempt to speak. "Hi, Mrs. Thompson. We're not here to hurt you. It's okay. We…Rose?" A low guttural sound came from Rose's throat, as if she were trying to speak but couldn't form the words. "Dean. Adiana." Sam spoke in a quite tone, indicating they should move back with a jerk of his head. They backed away, Rose's eyes moved back and forth nervously as they disappeared from her line of sight. Adiana felt that they should leave right now since Rose was clearly in no condition to talk, but she kept her mouth shut. "This woman's had a stroke." Dean looked over at Rose.

"Yeah, but hoodoo's hands-on."

"Yeah."

"You've gotta mix herbs and chant and build an altar."

"So, it can't be Rose. Heck, maybe it's not even hoodoo."

"You know, she could be faking."

"Yeah, what do you wanna do? Poke her with a stick?" Dean considered it, half nodding.

"Dean!" Adiana scolded in a whisper.

"Dude, you're not gonna poke her with a stick," Sam said disapprovingly.

"What the hell?" Susan stood in the doorway, staring in a mix of anger and disbelief. "What are you doing in here?"

"Oh, we just wanted to, uh…" "Oh, we just wanted to talk to Rose." "We were trying to talk…" Sam, Dean and Adiana all spoke over each other. Susan ran to Rose, putting a comforting arm on her shoulder.

"Look at her. She is scared out of her wits. I want you out of my hotel in two minutes or I'm calling the cops." They left quickly, Adiana taking one last glance back. Susan was stroking Rose's head, eyes livid. They tramped down the stairs, filing past Tyler who was playing with the dollhouse.

"Now what?" asked Adiana, once they were out in the hallway. "We can't just leave, right?"

"Right," affirmed Sam, opening the door to their hotel room.

"Right," echoed Dean, picking up his and Adiana's duffel bags. "We'll just pull out around the corner and park. Keep an eye out for anything. They're moving out today, anyway. Once they're gone, we can actually look around this place. "

"I'll tell you one thing though. I don't think this is Rose. She wasn't faking that, Dean." Sam threw his toothbrush in his duffel bag and zipped it up. "Which means it's something else."

"Yeah, maybe." They left the key in the room and wound through the maze of halls that lead out of the hotel. Sam and Dean threw the duffel bags in the trunk as Adiana opened the back door of the Impala. They had all gotten in when Susan came out the front door. She watched them, her arms crossed. Sam reached to roll down the window and apologize. "Let it be, Sam." They sped out of the driveway. Dean drove to the main road, did a three-point turn and started back. He pulled off of the road about halfway down, parking the Impala behind some bushes and turning her off. The boys pulled out binoculars to keep an eye on the house. Adiana rested her shoulder against the window and waited… and waited…and waited. About an hour and a half later, Sherwin drove by in a red truck, but he didn't notice them behind the bushes. A few minutes later, Sam threw down his binoculars.

"Let's go."

"Sam," started Dean, but Sam was already out of the Impala and striding down the road. Adiana reached over the seat and grabbed Sam's binoculars, holding them up to her eyes. Susan stood, staring at her swing set. The two swings were moving back and forth, but no one was sitting in the seats. The see-saw began to rock and Susan tried to stop it, but as soon as she let go, it continued to move. The merry-go-round started spinning a moment later, and Susan backed away. "Damn it." Dean opened the door to the Impala, putting down his own binoculars and starting after Sam at a jog. Adiana got out, trailing by a few steps. They got closer as Susan's car started to inch forward. Sam and Dean broke into a run. Susan backed away from her car, faster and faster as the car too sped up. Sam grabbed her, knocking her out of the way just in time as her car roared past, smashing into a tree with a loud crunch. The engine immediately stopped. Dean caught up a few seconds later.

"Come on, come on. Get inside. Let's go." Sam helped Susan up, and Dean grabbed Adiana's arm as she stopped next to him. They all went inside the house, Susan breathing heavily as she lead them to the bar room.

"Whiskey." She sat down at a table, resting her head in her hands. Sam nodded.

"Sure. I know the feeling." He moved to pour her a drink. Susan took a deep breath.

"What the hell happened out there?" Dean paused.

"You want the truth?"

"Of course."

"Well, at first, we thought it was some sort of a hoodoo curse. But that out there?" Dean pointed out the window. "That was definitely a spirit."

"Here." Sam handed Susan a glass of whiskey. Susan gazed skeptically at Dean.

"You're insane." Susan took a sip, tears forming in her eyes. Dean watched her, frowning.

"It's been said."

"Look, I'm sorry, Susan," started Sam, as a tear rolled down Susan's cheek. "We don't exactly have time to ease you into this. But we need to know when your mother had the stroke."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question."

"Uhhh." Susan thought for a moment, clutching her glass. "About a month ago."

"Right before the killings began. See?" he said to Dean. "So, what if Rose was working hoodoo, but not to hurt anyone-"

"But to protect them," finished Adiana.

"She was using the five-spot urns to ward off a spirit," realized Dean.

"Right," confirmed Sam. "Until she had a stroke and she couldn't anymore." Susan stared at them with wide eyes.

"I don't believe this."

"Listen, sister, that car didn't try to run you down by itself, okay? ... Well, I guess it did, technically, but a spirit can – forget it," finished Dean in defeat, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sam sat down across from Susan.

"Just believe what you want, all right? But the fact is you and your family are in danger. So you need to clear everybody out of here: your employees, your mother, your daughters, everyone." Susan was nodding along, but then looked confused.

"Um…I only have one daughter." Dean cocked his head to the side. Sam stared at Susan.

"One?"

"I thought Tyler had a sister named Maggie," said Adiana.

"Maggie's imaginary," scoffed Susan, as if she was used to explaining this. Adiana, Sam and Dean all looked at each other with concern.

"Where's Tyler?" asked Sam.

"She should be in the playroom. You don't think…" Susan got up and ran up the stairs, Adiana, Sam and Dean trailing right behind. Susan threw open the door to the playroom. "Tyler?" Dolls were everywhere; smashed, broken, ripped apart. "Oh my God. Tyler!" Susan flew into a different room. Sam looked in the closet. Dean opened up another door in the room. Nothing. "Tyler? She's not here!" she said as she came back. Adiana was afraid to move, not wanting to step on the broken bits of doll. Sam moved closer to Susan.

"Susan, tell us what you know about Maggie."

"Not much. Tyler's been talking about her since Mom got sick."

"Okay, did you ever know anyone by that name?"

"No." Dean knew there must have been someone.

"Think, think. Maybe somebody that could have lived here, might have passed away?" Susan was shaking, looking around. Then, her head snapped back.

"Oh my God. My mom. My mom had a sister named Margaret. She barely spoke about her."

"Did Margaret happen to die here when she was a kid?" questioned Sam.

"She drowned in the pool."

"Come on," directed Dean. They ran out of the hotel and down through the back. Susan took the lead, dashing through the rooms and out of the back door. They sprinted to a large glass pool house, skidding to a stop outside the door. Tyler stood inside, over the railing, holding on tight. She was gazing down at the pool below.

"Tyler!" called Susan through the glass. Sam and Dean rammed their shoulders and elbows against the glass trying to break it. Adiana took off in search of another way in. "Tyler!" Tyler turned around.

"Mommy!" Tyler fell backwards, as if she was pushed. She hit the plastic covering the pool and became tangled, water seeping in around her. Dean stopped pounding against the glass.

"Is there another entrance?"

"Around back!"

"All right, let's go. Keep working," he said to Sam.

In the back, Adiana had found a wooden door, but it was locked. She glared at it, backed up and rammed sideways into it. It barely moved. Adiana stumbled back, her side throbbing. Bad idea. But she had to try. Dean and Susan rounded the corner.

"Stand back." Dean kicked the door; it bulged but didn't cave. He tried two more times. The door rattled in its frame but held firm. "Son of a bitch!" He kicked and kicked at the door. Finally, it gave, flying inward. Susan dashed through the splintered frame, Dean and Adiana right behind. Sam was in the water, carrying Tyler. Her face was pale, and she didn't appear to be breathing. Sam set her down on the tiled floor. Her red coat stood out against the white tile like blood. Susan sank to her knees, hands hovering over her child in shock. Adiana turned her head, unable to look and buried it in Dean's chest. No, they couldn't save everyone, but it was worse somehow when it was just a child. Dean put an arm around her, resting his head against hers. Sam hung his head in defeat as Susan began to shake. Then, Tyler made a choking sound, and water bubbled out of her mouth. Susan grabbed Tyler up in her arms.

"Oh, thank God! Thank God!" Adiana turned her head as Tyler opened her eyes, blinking through the chlorine.

"Mommy!"

"Yeah, baby, I'm here!" Susan managed through sobs.

"Tyler, do you see Maggie anywhere?" Sam asked. Tyler gaze darted around the structure.

"No, she's gone." Tyler curled up against Susan's chest. "Mommy." Adiana let out a breath of relief. Dean kept his arm around her as they left the pool house. Susan had taken off her coat and put it over her daughter's shoulders. They all walked back up the stairs to the playroom. Adiana, Sam and Dean waited as Susan and Tyler went up the stairs to the next level.

"Don't worry, honey," assured Susan. "We're leaving in two minutes. We've just gotta get Grandma."

"I don't get it," said Dean, once they were out of earshot. "Did Maggie just stop?"

"Seems like it," sighed Sam, his eyes resting on the door.

"Where the hell did she go?" Suddenly, the sound of Susan's scream came from upstairs. The trio dashed up the staircase into Rose's room. Susan stood staring at her mother, Tyler clutched in her arms. Rose was slumped over in her wheelchair, eyes empty. Susan walked out of the room, wanting to get Tyler away. Maybe Maggie had found her victim after all.

Sam and Dean stood at the foot of the front steps. Susan had called the paramedics, and the brothers stayed with her in the front hall until they arrived. Adiana stayed with Tyler, teaching her some card tricks she had picked up from a friend. They were still inside as the paramedics wheeled Rose's body into a coroner's van. Susan looked down at Sam and Dean from the top step.

"The paramedics said it was another stroke. You think Margaret could have had something to do with it?"

"We don't know," said Dean.

"But it's possible," conceded Sam. "Susan, I'm sorry." Susan looked at him as if he was crazy.

"God, you have nothing to apologize for. You've given me everything." Tyler appeared in the doorway, shoving a pack of cards into her pocket. "Ready to go, kiddo?"

"Yeah."

"Tyler, you're sure Maggie's not around anymore?" asked Dean. Adiana walked up behind her and lightly touched the girl's shoulder.

"She's sure." Tyler nodded.

"I'm sure. I'd see her." Susan held on protectively to Tyler as they walked to a waiting taxi.

"Well, I guess whatever's going on must be over," Dean said with relief. Susan opened the door of the taxi, and Sam held it open as Tyler climbed in.

"You two take care of yourselves, alright?" Susan wrapped him up in a hug, which Sam returned. Adiana and Dean grinned at each other.

"Thank you. All of you," she said, getting into the taxi. Sam shut the door and the taxi pulled away. Tyler waved out the window, and Adiana waved back. They started back to the Impala, which Dean had gotten while they were waiting for the paramedics. He chuckled to himself.

"I think you could've hooked up some MILF action there, man. Seriously, I think she liked you." Adiana nodded.

"Yeah, Sam. That was your chance right there."

"Yeah, that's all she needs," Sam said, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Well, you saved the mom, you saved the girl," Dean took out his keys. "Not a bad day. Of course, you know I could've saved her myself, but I didn't want you to feel useless." Sam laughed.

"Alright, I appreciate it." They reached the Impala.

"Feels good to get back in the saddle, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it does," Sam leaned on the top of the Impala. "But it doesn't change what we talked about last night, Dean." Adiana froze with her hand on the door handle. So he did remember.

"We talked about a lot of things last night," said Dean evasively.

"You know what I mean."

"You were wasted."

"But you weren't. And you promised." Sam opened his door and got in. Adiana did the same and Dean followed suit a few seconds later. He glanced at Adiana in the rear-view mirror. She was looking at him with an almost apologetic expression. He turned to Sam, mouth open as if about to speak. Instead, he sniffed and turned the keys, starting up the Impala. They pulled out, leaving the hotel looming against a grey sky.