My welcome back to base was not, well, welcoming. But I'll get to that in a minute.

Anyway, I drove back home – or, well, to the Torchwood base – and I felt almost a peace. I mean, I wasn't quite at peace, having just left the grave of my dead four-year-old son behind, but I felt better. I hummed Praise to the Lord most of the way, my windows rolled down with the heat on high – yes, like the Carrie Underwood song.

I arrived back at the base about 9pm, which I thought was good because a lot of the time the guys just hung out in the 'living room' for most of the evening. The door to the living room wasn't anywhere near the front door. Or well, it was, but by the time the sound waves of me opening and closing the front door reverberated in their eardrums, I'd be more than halfway to my room, so I would be able to get in with no trouble. Huh. Living room. I don't know why people call them 'living' rooms, because if you live in a house every room is a living room, but I digress. I, personally, called it the TV room because that's where the TV was. It was a lot more logical.

I walked up to the door, and unlocked it. I rubbed my face tiredly as I walked inside and – was doused with a bucket of water. Frozen from shock, I blinked water out of my eyes and was able to get a good look at who had just dumped water on me. It was Dean. Figured. I spluttered a moment and Dean looked surprised and he said, "Oh. It's you."

I set my duffel bag down and swept my hair out of my face, shivering. "Merry Christmas to you, too," I said sarcastic. I wrung out my hair, and a cascade of water splashed to the floor.

"Whoa," Dean said, looking somewhat awed, "That was awesome."

I gave him a funny look. Talk. You talk to him even though you want to pass out. "Thanks. I think," I replied.

"Sorry for dousing you. I thought…" he started to explain, but trailed off as Sam came in.

"You okay?" Sam asked me concernedly. No. I was about ten seconds before he asked me. Now I was nowhere near okay. My heart started racing and I started sweating awfully, which was thankfully not noticeable because I was still dripping wet from Dean drenching me.

"I'm… fine," I managed, "Dean thought I was a demon."

"No, I didn't," Dean corrected me, "I thought you were Sam."

"Because we look so much alike," I drawled sarcastically, picking up my duffel bag. Sam let out a surprised laugh and I started to talk down the hall when Dean grabbed my arm. Instinctively, I dropped my duffel bag and twisted around, his hand still clasping my wrist. I shoved him hard against the wall, his arm pinned to his chest by my right hand, and his right shoulder pinned by my left hand. He looked surprised and I automatically stepped away, my hands flying up in front of me, like a defense position. "Sorry," I apologized meekly, "Sorry. Instinct. Sorry."

Dean's mouth was open slightly in surprise and Sam looked interested. "Dude," he directed at Dean, "Someone half a foot shorter than you just pinned you against a wall."

Dean rolled his eyes, "Yeah, well she surprised me, Sammy. It's okay, Sara," he added. I nodded uncertainly, wanting to leave but Dean asked me, "Where'd you go?"

Caught off-guard (that seemed to happen to me a lot with those two), I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion and inquired, "What do you mean?"

"You just up-and-left yesterday. It's Christmas," Dean explained.

"Oh," I said, "I went to go visit someone."

Sam's eyebrows contracted a bit and he asked, "Who?"

"It doesn't really matter," I answered levelly, "He's been dead for a while."

"Oh," Dean responded looking at me somewhat understanding. Sam however, didn't seem to find that a good enough answer, because he asked,

"Who?" Dean shoved him slightly, but I answered anyways, flatly;

"It was Daniel. My brother." My heart seared as I called him 'brother', because that was wrong, so wrong. But I just couldn't tell these two that I had had a son. So I left it at that.

Dean's eyes widened and Sam's mouth dropped open a little bit. Before either of them could say anything, I said, "Have a good evening, Dean, Sam; Merry Christmas."

I didn't speak for the next five days, feeling the emptiness like a dagger; whittling a hole in my heart that was even deeper than the one I already had.