A/N: Here's a nice, long chapter to welcome you guys into the new year. That's the good news. However, the more unsavory news is that this story will go on a short hiatus, but return the week after next. I wish you all a Happy New Year and thank you for making this half year a great one for me and this story. I couldn't have made it this far without y'all. Thank you!

He sat in the plastic chair in the middle of the moderately busy hallway, his head in his hands and his fingers in his hair. Sam was in a rut. A big one. He was to blame for setting the playing field for the end of the world, but that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was how his family saw him.

Dean was an obvious blow. He had disappointed him far too many times before and this was the icing on top of the cake. He couldn't stand the way he looked at him whenever he did… well, anything. He takes one look at a bleeding patient and it sets off all sorts of alarms. He would stare at him in the corner of his eye, making it more than known that he didn't trust him. And why would he? Sam had screwed up before, but this took it too far.

Bobby was a big relief. He said that he would never shut him out, even after all he did, but he knew better. He saw the way Bobby looked at him. He was just as disappointed in him as Dean was. He couldn't bear the look in his eyes of a man he saw as a surrogate father.

And Frankie. God, did he screw up with her. She wasn't even in his life for a month and he already showed her how untrustworthy he could be. Not only did she have to witness him hyped up on demon blood, but she also had to learn that the apocalypse – something she had feared and panicked over since she heard about it – was happening because he refused to listen to his family.

And not just that, but she was also put into the hospital because of apocalypse matters. If Lucifer hadn't been set free, the angels wouldn't have been looking for Dean and Frankie wouldn't have gotten hurt. By proxy, he was to blame for her kidneys. It was his fault that she was in the hospital, not Dean's. But he couldn't convince him of that. In reality, it was both of their faults, but one couldn't convince Sam that, either. In his eyes, everything was his fault. Apocalypse and kidneys. He caused it all, so he had to fix what he could. And that was exactly what he would do.

Mind made up, he lifted himself from the chair and made a beeline for the lab.

He had to fix this. This was his fault and no one could convince him otherwise. Dean thought this as he aimlessly wandered the halls and floors of the hospital.

His visit with Bobby was still fresh on his mind. He stood by his opinion. He knew what was best for Frankie and that was for her to go to Italy – not Alabama – with her family. It was simple. She would be with those she was familiar with, she wouldn't be alone, and, best of all, she wouldn't be anywhere near him or Sam.

Of course Bobby hated the idea. She had rubbed off on him. That and he would also miss having his house clean. Although it was more than obvious that she had brought a certain optimistic air about the house, whether it was from her jokes or her willingness to help no matter what. Dean had to admit that he would miss that about her being with them, but he wanted her safe more than anything.

It wasn't like Dean didn't acknowledge Bobby's warning. He was right. Frankie killed demons and that would have her higher on their list. And she would be placed especially higher since she was related to them. But if she was far enough away, maybe they would leave her alone.

Now that was optimistic thinking.

But he couldn't think about that now. He was on another mission, one to find her a kidney. His trip down the terminal ward was less than helpful, but he expected it to be anyway. She didn't need another sick organ. It had to be healthy, and preferably from someone she knew. He and Sam would be the closest possible bet to a successful kidney, but he knew he couldn't. It would put a whole bunch of people in danger, even if just to save one person.

So he had to go to the next possibility for donors, and luckily for him they were right where he thought they'd be. He walked into the large cafeteria and spotted the four of them sitting at a table and chowing down, the kids occupying themselves with their phones.

He made his way over. He didn't have any idea what he'd say to them or how he'd convince them to test for matches, but hey, he was Dean Winchester. He had done the impossible before.

They caught sight of him before he approached. "Oh hi! Dan right?" the aunt, Jacklyn, greeted. She straightened out her fraying blond hair and brushed stray strands out of her eyes.

"Dean," he corrected with a nod of his head.

"Nice to see you again," her husband said while extending his hand once again. Dean put on a nice smile while shaking his hand. See? These people weren't horrible. "What brings you down?"

"I was, uh… actually hoping to run into you," he explained, setting himself down across from the family. The kids had barely looked up before going right back to their electronics. "I just came back from seeing Frankie."

"Mm," Jacklyn hummed, putting on a sympathetic expression. "How is she? We'd check ourselves, but she refuses to see us." The woman chuckled while wearing a face that said 'you know how it is.'

"Yeah. She's, uh… she's doing better. Least I think she is. She's a lot better than the last time I saw her."

"Well, that's good. Wouldn't want her to be in too much pain." The woman grabbed ahold of her husband's hand and tucked her fingers into his. "Thank you for letting us know. Lord knows she won't tell us anything."

Dean looked down to his own fingers linked together on the table. He really shouldn't, seeing as it wasn't his business, but now was his chance to finally find out what her whole feud with them was. His curiosity ended up getting the best of him. "If you don't mind me asking, what's her deal? What's this whole beef she's got with you?"

He didn't miss the twinkle of sadness in their eyes. "Well… that goes back a ways. She's never really taken too kindly to us, not even Lyle, but… she didn't have such a severe loathing for us until recently."

"Why's that?" he pressed on. He knew he shouldn't really urge them to reveal such personal matters, but he was too invested in the dispute to ignore it.

"Well… it really has to do with her mother."

"Her mother?" Dean echoed.

"Yes. When her mother got sick… well she really got sick. Lyle's sister, poor Sierra, developed so quickly. She wasn't hanging on like Frankie is. She didn't have the strength." Dean silently praised the girl for her resilience. He'd have to remember to praise her aloud. "And that girl… she felt in her heart that we should've been there for Sierra. But we just had so much going on at home… it wouldn't have done any good to push our family out of our home for that. Sierra passed not two weeks later."

"Wait… so…," Dean eyed the uncle, "your sister was dying… and you didn't even make the trip to see her and her only daughter before she died?" The man tightened his lips into a frown. "Don't you think it would've done just a little good? I mean you just left Frankie there to watch her mom die all alone. She didn't have anyone. No siblings, no dad… she needed her family."

"We understand that, Dean," the uncle piped up, "but you have to realize that we knew that day was coming. We prepared ourselves for the day Sierra would pass and so did she. The only one who was really unprepared for it was Frankie."

Jacklyn nodded while humming in agreement. "She wouldn't accept the fact that her mother was deathly ill. Oh how she tried to give her own kidney to her, but Sierra wouldn't allow it. Not that it would do much good. She had the disease as well."

"She tried everything, calling everyone she knew to test for compatibility," Lyle continued. "Even Sierra tried to get her to see reason. Poor girl… she just wouldn't let her go." Dean could see that. She didn't like to give up or let anything go. She fought for what she wanted and wouldn't let anything stop her.

"But," Jacklyn continued with a sigh, "her mother did pass, and she didn't take it well. She refused to have anything to do with us. She isolated herself into their house and didn't come out for days. Weeks, I assume. Last I had heard of her, a friend of mine back in Alabama saw her getting on a bus with a bag. I'm guessing she was heading off on that business she was talking about." Dean nodded, understanding exactly what she was talking about.

"So," Dean spoke, getting back onto the subject. "If you didn't come to the states for her mom, why'd you come for her?"

"Well, we weren't exactly panning on her getting sick so early, but when we got the call, we thought it best to come down here and take care of her things for her." Dean nodded in understanding before realizing that he didn't actually understand.

"Her things?"

"Y'know," Lyle answered, "her finances, her assets, all the paperwork for her passing." Dean's body froze, his eyes turning stony. "Someone has to take care of them. We're the last people she really, y'know, knew. Except you and your brother, of course."

"Wait, wait, hold up," Dean interjected, waving his hands as he sat up straight. The two kids finally looked up from their screens. "What are you saying? You flew all the way out here just to take her money?"

Lyle and Jacklyn's eyes widened, their mouths agape at the accusation. "Of course not! How awful!" Lyle placed another hand on top of his wife's to calm her.

"I think you misunderstood us," he said quietly, trying to divert from the unwanted attention of the neighboring tables. "We're not here to take her things like it's some sort of inheritance. Who do you think the money goes to when she passes? We're the last of her family."

'That's where you're wrong, Fatso,' he wanted to retort, but he held that part of his tongue.

"We don't enjoy this," Jacklyn explained once she calmed down from the initial shock. "We're more than comfortable with our finances, but the money has to go somewhere."

"Why not just leave it with her?" Dean suggested, his voice sinking back into his normal gruff manner. As expected, he was met with confused faces. "She's not dead yet. She still has a chance of survival. That's what you need to be taking care of. Not her stuff if she dies." He calmed himself just enough to lean back into his chair. "That's actually why I came to talk to you."

His brows narrowed as he watched Jacklyn and Lyle share a look with each other. A sigh left each of their noses before Jacklyn looked at her children. "Boys. Go get me a Coke." The two boys responded with harmonized huffs and identical rolls of their eyes before scooching out of their chairs and walking off out of the cafeteria.

Dean returned his eyes to look between the couple in front of him, waiting for some sort of explanation to why the kids were told to leave. "Dean…," Lyle started, letting go of his wife's hand to link together his own. "The moment Frankie was born we knew this day would come. PKD is a genetic disease. Her great grandmother had it, my mother had it, and Sierra had it. Each of them died of the same thing: kidney failure. Frankie's no exception."

"Yeah, but they didn't have a transplant," Dean pointed out.

"That hasn't changed, hun," Jacklyn drawled, looking Dean in the eye with that same sad twinkle.

"Well not yet. We just have to find someone who's a match. Which is why I came down to check with you two. You're her family. You might be matches."

Lyle shook his head, sighing down to his hands before locking eyes with the younger man. "I was adopted." Dean wasn't even sure what expression his face was making, but by the look on the man in front of him it wasn't positive. Lyle nodded his head. "My mother had Sierra, but didn't want another child to carry her disease. Then came me."

"And that just bugs me," Jacklyn grumbled, hands forming into fists.

"Honey, don't," her husband sighed before Dean spoke up.

"What?"

"Sierra. And her mother. I just don't understand. They were family and I loved them, but if you have a disease you know is hereditary, why have children to pass it down to?"

"Jackie. Not now."

"What, are you saying Frankie's mom should've…," Dean left what needed to be said unheard, knowing that they would get his exact point. Just the thought of the answer being yes sent pulses of anger into his brain.

"Now, I know it's terrible to think about," the woman began. Dean's fingernails just barely scratched into the table. "But what's really more horrible? Having… that happen to your unborn child, or having that child grow up only to end up in this place?"

Dean didn't want to have that conversation lest he color his fist with blood from the woman's nose. "She doesn't have to die," he muttered, keeping his anger at bay, but just barely. "You don't have to be blood. You just have to have the right blood type, right?"

"And tissue typing and cross-matching," Lyle added as if he had said it a million times. Dean switched his gaze to him. "We've already been tested. I'm not a match for Frankie." Dean's heart sank in his chest. "But Jackie is." And then it perked back into place.

"You are?" he said, urgent hope flooding his vocal chords. "Well why are you just sitting here? Go carve out your kidney and give it to her! We're kinda on a time crunch here!"

There was that look again. That shared look between Lyle and Jacklyn that meant something was up. "Dean," Jacklyn muttered, voice sounding almost negotiating. "I love Frankie. I do. But I love my sons more." Dean felt the glare form on his face. "What if they were to get in an accident? Or ate something that made them very sick? What if some random happenstance damaged one of their kidneys? Lyle isn't the healthiest man alive, and I would be the only one to donate. I only have two kidneys, dear."

Dean slowly shook his head, not believing what he was hearing. "So that's it. You're just gunna let Frankie die because you're worried one of your kids might get sick? She's sick now! Help her! She's your family!"

"And I love her, and wish another donor will come for her, but that donor won't be me." The man threatened to give an outburst fit for a king before the woman reached across the table to touch his hand. He pulled away. "Dean, listen to me. You need to understand that we've gone over this situation a million times, ever since Frankie was just five years old. I know how much she needs a kidney, but what happens in ten years? More cysts form? Her kidneys shut down again? Then where will she get another donor? Don't you see? She was born to die this way."

"No. No she wasn't."

"Dean." The man flicked his eyes to glare into her own. She sent him a tight-lipped smile, forcing sympathy into it. "There's nothing to be done. Okay? There's nothing we can do. If Frankie dies, it'll save her years of suffering." Dean tightened his jaw. "Even you know that to be true."

"We're not monsters," Lyle cut in. "We wish she didn't have this disease, but she does. And if she makes it through this and has a child of her own, that child will have the disease, too. And then the story repeats itself. We didn't help Sierra because we knew she would get sick anyway. We're not helping Frankie because we knew this day would come. If she were to have kids, we wouldn't help them. There's nothing to help. But if Frankie dies with her family and friends surrounding her, she'll die happy. Then we can finally end this legacy of suffering. Do you understand, son?"

"No." Dean stood up, his chair screeching away from the table. A few bystanders at neighboring tables glanced over. "And don't call me 'son' like we're pals. I made a promise and I'll keep that promise. Even without your help. You keep your selfish ways away from Frankie, and we'll hold on the bad blood, got it?" With a final glare, Dean kicked his chair onto its back and started walking away.

"Dean," Jacklyn called to him, causing him to stop and pivot back to her, intense scowl pointed her way. "We've prepared for this day since she was born. We know what's best for her. Who are you to her?"

Dean didn't hold back from deepening his glower. "The last bit of family she's got." Without another word, he turned his back and left the cafeteria.

Frankie closed yet another book and placed it with the others. She reached over to the bedside table and took a bite out of a bread roll. She reached for another book and opened it, looking for any signs or mentions of the four horsemen. She repeated this action every time she didn't find anything new or useful.

She continued this routine for hours, never letting up. If she did, she would be forced to think and listen to her thoughts, which she absolutely did not want to do. She knew exactly what her mind would go to first and, honestly, she just wanted to forget it ever happened. She wanted to pretend like Sam never opened his mouth and simply ran off to get a bite to eat. She wanted to pretend like her own brother didn't start what was causing her small panic attacks and night terrors.

So to keep herself from not thinking about it, she forced herself to study. She forced her eyes to scan every line of every page, repeating words even if she read them a hundred times already. Anything to keep from thinking of Sam.

But there was a time when her head began to ache where she had to tear her eyes away from the pages of old text. Since she knew what her mind would go to first, she tried to beat it to the punch and think of something else.

Bobby's leg? No. Her family showing up? Hell no. Her impending death? She already fretted about that too much that day. So what else was there in her life to think about?

The only thing in her life that brought her smiles instead of heart palpitations was Dean. He was the only thing that made sense in her shortening world. He refused to give up on her and ordered her not to give up on herself. He promised that he would do whatever it took to make her well again. He cared about her. He actually cared about her.

She was so glad to have Dean in her life. He would never let her down. He would never give up on her. And for that she was more than grateful. If there was a reason to fight for life, Dean was it.

Frankie looked around at her domain. Her room was boring. The isolation was boring. The infomercials on the TV were boring. And what was worse was that she was out of water and was thirsty as hell.

But this time, Frankie had enough of it. Her kidneys may be damaged, but she didn't need to be bedridden. There was no need for it. And if she had to wait for Nurse Cindy, she who could do no wrong, for longer than half an hour again she would explode. She had two working legs. She could walk. And she would use a goddamn water fountain if it killed her.

Sitting up caused some pain, but she had gotten a little used to it in the past few days. Taking a deep breath, expecting the pain to come, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and hopped onto the floor. There was an instant heave in her stomach from the new aching, but Frankie ignored it as best as she could.

There. She was bipedal. Then off she went, walking out of her room and down the hall, trying her best to mask the slight hobble in her step.

Frankie managed to avoid getting called out by passing nurses and doctors. Luckily for her, none of them worked with her before, so they didn't know that she should stay in bed. She passed a corner, eyeing the fountain just down the hall.

"Oh, yer no better than she is. I tell ya it's nothin'."

Frankie stopped. That was definitely Bobby's voice. Looking behind at the cracked door she just passed, she realized that must be his room. She found a smile. She momentarily forgot her dry tongue and turned around to give him a visit.

"That's not what the doctor's say. Maybe you should listen to them on this one."

Frankie froze, nearly falling with how fast she stilled her feet. She caught herself on the wall, not feeling up to the agony falling would cause her. That was definitely Sam's voice. He must be giving Bobby a visit. Frankie definitely did not want to be in the same room as him. She couldn't bear to look at him. She knew it wouldn't be her brother that she'd be seeing. She'd just see the man that started the end.

"Why don't you tell 'em to shove their diagnosis up their ass? I know my own damn body. It's just numb. It'll come back around."

"And when will that be?"

"Well I don't know! A few days? Weeks, maybe. But I'll get rid of these crutches in no time. And when I do I'll burn 'em."

"I don't know, Bobby."

"Well it's not yer job to know. You leave that to me."

Frankie found herself listening in to their conversation. She really should stop her eavesdropping behavior, but since she couldn't visit Bobby on her own, she thought this was almost close to that.

"Anyway," Bobby continued, "the kid find anything on the horsemen?"

Frankie picked up on Sam's hesitation. "Yeah. A few things. She wrote them down. I'll see if I can get her notes and bring them to you." She began to think he was about to walk out of the room and she panicked, but he was stopped before he could.

"I'll look at it myself when I see her. I haven't done it yet today. She's probably bored outta her mind in there." Bobby always was very smart. "Poor kid," he sighed. "Can't imagine what's goin' through her head."

'A lot, Bobby. A lot,' she thought.

"Any progress in findin' her a kidney?"

"Uh, not yet. I may be onto something, though."

Frankie's brow rose at Sam's words. Well at least he was doing something to help instead of destroy.

"Good. What about Dean?"

"What about him?"

"Have y'all not been workin' together?"

"Uh… no. I mean, we should, but… I haven't seen him in a while."

"Well I have." Frankie heard him grunt as he adjusted in a chair. At least she thought it was a chair. It sounded like one. "He was in here ravin' about her family showin' up."

"Yeah. We met them a while back. They seemed nice enough."

"They are not nice enough. Least that's what the kid'll tell ya. She can't stand 'em."

"Why?"

"She won't say. Just does I guess. Which makes it even more idiotic why Dean wants her to go with 'em."

Frankie felt her heart skip a beat. What the hell did he just say?

"Wait a minute… what does he want?"

"Guess you don't know then. Might as well know now." Frankie stumbled closer to the cracked door to listen better. This she had to hear. "Dean thinks she'd be better off in Italy with 'em. After he finds a kidney, he wants her to leave with 'em so she'd be safer. I say that's stupid as hell and she'd never agree to it, but he's dead set on it."

The words that came out of Sam's mouth were numb to her. As were the sounds of the bustling hallway. As she replayed Bobby's words in her head, she found that she couldn't feel the wall under her hand or the floor under her bare feet. After playing them over and over again, Frankie couldn't even feel the pain in her stomach from running down the hallway.

The world around her was a blur. Her ears took up a deafening pounding, blocking the voices of worried nurses. She didn't stop. She couldn't stop. Not until she reached her room. She ran in and slammed the door, only stopping her frantic movement to catch herself against her bed.

She stood, hyperventilating as she held herself up against the mattress. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't. Not Dean. Not the one person she could rely on. Not her friend. Not her teacher. Not her brother.

A weak scream croaked in her throat. Her hands found their own way to her head. The scream came again, this time not so weak. Pain surged in her abdomen when she lowered herself to her knees, but she didn't even register it passed her wailing.

The yells were short lived, her voice taking up a weary sob instead. After Sam, she couldn't imagine losing her image of a loving sibling again, but here she was. There she sat, a girl with two brothers who just loved to wreck her world. There she was, powerless to save that world from crumbling.

She clutched the white bedsheet in her hand. No. She had given up before. Not again. She wouldn't let Dean take this away. She refused to let him ruin their bond like this. She fought too hard to get as close to him as she was. She had to fight, but how could she when she was stuck there?

Dean was dead set on getting her a kidney. And when he did he would send her off with her family. Well, she wouldn't let that happen. But… if he didn't… she'll die. Then where would their relationship be? Nonexistent that's where.

"Would you just look at that? Oh, I could just eat it up!" a voice from the TV chimed. It was some shopping show that Frankie had on before she left. She really wanted to shut that plucky blonde bitch up, but the remote was on the bed. Oh well. She'd ignore it.

She had to think of something and fast. She had to come up with a way to heal herself and live while also making sure that she wouldn't go with her family to Italy. But how could she pull off such a feat before she died?

"This little angel could be the answer to all your problems for any occasion. Birthdays, holidays, funerals, the list is endless. But you'll have to act fast. This offer is limited."

The toughest part was healing herself. She needed a kidney. Dean was already on it, so he might take care of that problem anyway, but then she just had to convince him not to send her off. Maybe she could guilt trip him. Or pretend to know something he didn't. Maybe she could bribe him with her machete… but she really didn't want to do that.

"Trust me, this is just priceless. You want this little token in your life. You can't live without this offer!"

God, this was impossible. She had to stay optimistic… even if it was just a way to give up without knowing it. But she couldn't give up. She refused. But then… how was she going to fix this? What she really needed was a miracle, but those seemed hard to come by these days.

"I gotta say, and I think you all do, too, I am just sold on this Soul Star Angel Statuette by Cross Rose Porcelain. I am just sold!"

Then suddenly, an idea came like a voice from above. Although… it really should be coming from below.

"Sold… soul…," she mumbled under her breath. Her brows knitted together as her head lifted from the floor. "Sold… sold soul. Sell… my soul."

The very idea felt like a slap to her face. How could she even think of doing such a thing? Selling her soul? What would Sam, Dean, and Bobby think if she signed her soul away for a solution?

Although… they didn't have to know. She could play it off as some random luck. Kidneys can bounce back. After all, miracles do happen. Just not often. But she had to face the facts. As much as she wanted a miracle, she wouldn't get one. She'd have to make her own. And this one option could be the solution she was looking for.

Frankie didn't have a lot of options. In fact, this was the only one that ended the way she wanted. It was a heavy weight she would have to bear. She'd be lucky if she got ten years for her lousy soul, but the only thing she could think of was what she could do in those ten years. She thought of the life she could have with her brothers and Bobby, with her new family. She thought of the people she could save and the joy she would have doing it. With her healthy, they could probably find a way to stop the apocalypse. This was the only option she had to do that.

Frankie felt deep inside her that it was wrong, but what other choice did she have? She decided that this was the path she needed to take, even if it would only add to her heavy soul. But hey, it would belong to someone else then. Not her problem. She tried to laugh at her own joke, but it only came out as a small huff.

She would wait for the precise moment to escape. She remembered seeing a crossroad nearby. Besides, it was basic economics to have a crossroads near a hospital. She would wait until night after dinner.

Dean stormed through the hospital. He marched up stairwells, through winding hallways, and around corners until he reached a portion of the building that looked familiar. All the while he dodged nurses, visitors, and doctors until he nearly ran into a familiar face, one he had actually wanted to see.

"Woah! Kill the motor, man," Sam chuckled before registering the serious look in Dean's eye. His jesting mood melted away. "What's wrong?"

"Frankie's family, that's what!"

"Woah, hold on," Sam soothed, putting up his hands as if to calm a spooked animal. "What's wrong with her family?"

"Turns out she was right about 'em. They're a bunch of selfish pricks. They want her to die so they don't have to be burdened with her 'legacy of suffering' anymore. They're just here to make sure she kicks the bucket."

Sam wore a concerned expression as expected, but he calmed himself before attempting to calm his brother. "Okay. Are you sure you heard them right?"

"Loud and clear, man."

"'Cause that sounds more like something in a TV drama than real life."

"I heard them say it. They told me right to my face."

Sam shook his head. "If you say so. Guess this means you changed your mind about Frankie leaving with them."

Dean at first shot Sam a hard glare, wondering how the hell he knew about that, but he knew exactly how he found out. "Dammit, Bobby," he growled. "Does Frankie know?"

"I don't know. I just found out a while ago." Dean closed his eyes as he sighed. The last thing he needed was for her to find out about that. "So," Sam continued with a sigh of his own, "I just got back from the lab."

Dean flicked his eyes up to Sam's. "You got yourself tested?" he asked hurriedly. Sam nodded. "Well… what's the result?" His brother tightened his jaw before crossing his arms and shaking his head, defeat splashed all over his face. Dean forced his own defeated look from his face before replacing it with his former stony expression. "Hey. Chin up. Like you said, the demon blood would've probably hurt her anyway."

"Yeah, well that makes me feel so much better," Sam sarcastically groaned.

"Hey, you said it. Besides, I was actually thinking of getting tested myself."

That got Sam's attention. "What about all that stuff you said about the angels not liking you going into surgery?"

"Well, the way I see it, they can shove it up their feathery asses. Frankie's dying and I don't want her family anywhere near her. If they do I'll knock the tanning spray right off of 'em. So, guess that just leaves me."

"And… what if you're not a match?"

Dean pressed his lips together while cocking his head to the side. "Ever heard of wishful thinking, Sam?" he griped. "Let's just take it one step at a time, alright? Which way's the lab?"

With a tiresome sigh from Sam, he decided to direct Dean there himself. Then off they went to have Dean tested, hoping for one thing to go their way for once.

Night fell. Dinner was eaten. Then everything was quiet. The hallways were hushed and the announcements weren't as sporadic as they were during the day. The last thing on the check list was for Nurse Cindy to come in a settle her in for the night.

Frankie waited anxiously for her to make an appearance. She glanced around to make sure everything was set. She pulled up the legs of her jeans so that they were unnoticeable under her hospital gown. Not soon after, the raven haired woman walked through the door. "Hi, Frankie. How are we doing tonight?"

The girl forced a smile into her face. "Better."

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear. Y'know, they say a positive attitude is one of the greatest cures."

Frankie kept her smile, but left her tongue still. If she just remained silent, maybe the woman would go away sooner. And true to that hypothesis, the nurse dropped of a new set of sheets, left a pitcher of water on the bedside table, and left with a goodnight to the girl. Finally, Frankie could put her plan into action.

She waited a few extra minutes to ensure that she would be left alone. Once she was sure, she quickly shrugged off her gown to reveal her shirt and jeans that she wore the night of the incident. The collar of her button up shirt still had droplets of blood on it from her nose. She rolled down the legs of her jeans and righted her hair to look somewhat presentable, not like a demon would care anyway.

She carefully lowered herself off of the bed and stepped into her sneakers. She now appeared as a visitor and not a patient. She then went into action, suiting up for her daring night out. She grabbed the roll of gauze bandages from the counter on the side of the room and snatched her machete from her bag by the chairs. Luckily Dean hadn't taken it away from her yet. Yet.

Acting quickly, she held her machete to her waist and began rolling the gauze tape around and around until she ran out of one roll and had to use another one. Once it was secured into a decent holster, she began loosely wrapping the tape around her thigh to hold it in place.

Her next mode of action was to find a lock pick, and unfortunately the only place she would find one was in the biohazard bin on the wall. She eyed it, grimacing at the thought of used needles and gloves splashed with fluid. She sucked it up, though. She had to be strong, to be thick-skinned.

She took the bin off of the wall and slowly dumped it onto the floor, waiting for a suitable needle to use. She saw a 22g, a 20g, and an insulin syringe, but those were hardly suitable for picking locks. But finally, an 18g needle plopped onto the floor. A perfect size. Ever so carefully, she plucked it from the ground and dropped it into a gutted latex box.

After tucking her shirt into her jeans, Frankie stored the box into her loose shirt and tried to conceal it as best as she could. Then to conceal the big ticket item – her machete on her thigh – she wrapped her denim jacket around her waist so the blade could not be seen.

Just like in the movies, she tucked the new sheets under the ones already on the mattress and molded them to look like her body. She stepped back and gave the entire scene a onceover. Once she was completely satisfied, she shut off the lights in her room and slipped out carefully and quietly. Her main worry was Sam or Dean coming into her room to check on her, but she assumed with the lights off they would just leave her alone.

She lowered her head as she weaved through the halls and down the stairs, making sure no one who knew her recognized her out and about. She tried her best to mask her hobbling, and it seemed to work as no one stopped her to see if she was okay.

She lifted her head a few minutes into her journey to see the lobby just down the hallway. She felt a sense of relief as she narrowed in on the sliding doors, the windows showing the inky blackness of the night. But just as she entered the lobby, she saw Nurse Cindy. Dammit. She thought she'd be off by now. She acted fast and swiped a hat from the nearby coatrack and shoved it on her head, hiding her face from the nurse. Hats were a dime a dozen. Whoever it belonged to wouldn't miss it, right?

The moment Frankie walked through the automatic doors, a feeling of utter relief washed over her. The cool air of the night acted as a safety blanket over her shoulders. Now it was time for step two: acquiring ingredients.

The Impala wasn't hard to pick out in the parking lot. It stood out among the minivans and sports cars. She hurried over, trying not to jostle her innards too much, and stopped at the back of the car. She took a look around the empty parking lot, making sure there were no eyes to witness her breaking into the vehicle.

As expected, the trunk was locked. No worries, though. Dean taught her how to pick locks. She took the syringe out of the latex box and carefully crouched down to the lock on the back. She worked the latch until a satisfying pop sounded and the trunk opened like a treasure chest.

Smirking widely, Frankie stood up and lifted the false bottom to reveal a treasure trove of weaponry and utensils. She scanned the hodgepodge of tools until she spotted exactly what she was looking for. Right next to a box of fake credit cards and licenses was a container labeled 'graveyard dirt.' She took out the latex box that she had pulled all the gloves out of and sprinkled some of the dirt on top of her old senior portrait from high school. And conveniently enough, next to the container was a carton of black cat bones. The boys were oddly organized.

She dropped what she thought was a femur into the box and sealed it. She now had her very own ticket to summoning a crossroads demon.

Although as she stood there gazing down at her box, she suddenly felt that she shouldn't be doing this. She was selling her soul. That was serious. Perhaps there was some other way to fix things, one that didn't involve hellhounds devouring her in ten years.

But she knew better. This was the only way. This was her ticket to the life she tried so hard to build for herself, and the only way to fix what an angel did to her was to have help from a demon.

God, her life was screwed up…

"So… do you think it was the demon blood or what?"

Sam sent a sideways glance to Dean. He had been silent for an hour and that was the first thing he decided to ask? "I dunno. Could be."

Dean nodded. "Well did you make it to the cross matching, or…"

Sam sighed. He knew he probably wasn't meaning to make it sound that way, but it sure felt like he was rubbing his better success at a possible match in his face. "No. I didn't have the right blood type."

Dean hummed in understanding. He was quiet for just a little bit before opening his mouth yet again. "Think it was 'cause of-"

"I don't know if it was because of the demon blood!" Sam shouted. Dean reacted by leaning away from him with a bemused scowl.

"Okay, okay. Mind sayin' that a little louder?"

"I'm sorry," Sam hissed before flooding all the pestered nerves out with a deep sigh. "I'm sorry," he repeated, much calmer this time. "It's just… I was really hoping that I could've helped her." Dean looked over his brother, examining his disappointment. "Just ignore me. I glad you passed all the tests so far. She's lucky to have you."

That gave Dean a sick feeling in his gut. Lucky to have him? He was the reason she got sick in the first place. "Don't say that yet. I might not pass."

A smile just barely cracked on Sam's face. "You call that wishful thinking?" Dean gave a light snort while nodding. Then Sam's face turned serious. "What happens if you are a match? I mean… are you gunna go through with the surgery?"

Dean shook his head. "Why else would I be testing for a match?"

"Dean. You know what I mean." He did. "Are you gunna risk the angels showing up to stop it? After all, Zachariah did do this to her. He might wanna keep it that way."

"Dammit, Sam. Wishful thinking," Dean grunted. "What other choice do we have? Do we just let her die?"

"But then we'll risk other people dying just to save her."

"I know. But who's more important here? Them or Frankie?"

"Dean," Sam scolded, coating his voice with a steely edge. "That's not how we do things. We can't choose one over the other."

"Yeah, and why not?" Dean argued with a stormy voice of his own. Sam shot him a baffled glare. "These people are probably gunna die anyway. Why does Frankie have to be one of 'em?"

"She doesn't!" Sam shouted before quieting himself so bystanders in the hall didn't hear them. "She's on a list. Someone else might come along."

"And if she dies before then? And I swear if you say wishful thinking again-"

"I'm not. Look… I get it. I wanna help her, too." Sam's eyes turned downcast, and Dean didn't miss the change. "I told her about killing Lilith. She knows I freed Lucifer. She wouldn't even look at me. And I don't blame her." Dean glanced down to the floor as Sam heaved a sigh. "I thought if I was a match and saved her life that maybe it was a step in the right direction of forgiveness, but… I'm not. Believe me, I'd do anything to help her, but trading her life for innocents? Do you think she'd want that?"

"The angels might not find out," Dean suggested. "Remember those carvings Cas put on our ribs? We're hidden from the angels. I could go under and give my kidney and they never have to know. Hell, they can just zap me up a new one if they want."

"He didn't carve Frankie, Dean. The angels could swoop in and find us through her."

"Yeah, but if they haven't yet, then when? Hm? They don't care about her. They care about me. I'm who they want. Not her. The only reason she was dragged into this was because of me. You're not the only one who wants forgiveness, Sam."

His brother helplessly looked at him before looking down to the floor as well. "We've both done stupid things, Dean. This is both of our faults. I'm just saying that… maybe you shouldn't make the risk. Frankie wouldn't want innocent people to die just so she could live."

"What do you know about what Frankie would want?" Dean snapped. Sam whipped his head over to his brother, alarmed at the suddenly hostile tone in his words. "How could you possibly know what she wants when you've spent zero time with her? Who do you think's been looking after her? Training her to protect herself from those you chose to spend your time with?" Sam set his jaw and tightened his fists. "I know what she would want. I know her better than you."

"Why are you getting so pissed off at me, Dean? You don't think I know that? I know I've screwed up! I don't need to hear that from you!"

"Yeah, well you are. Don't tell me what you think she wants until you've put up with all her whining and complaining! Don't tell me what you think's on her mind until you listen to every goddamn word of her boring ass visit into the woods just because it'll make her happy! You can't know what she wants, because you chose to spend time with a demon instead of your own sister!"

Dean wasn't expecting Sam's expression to change from heated to shocked. He didn't even care at the time, but that surely changed when Sam opened his mouth. "Sister? Not… Dad's kid?"

He should have snapped at him. He should have told him that things had changed since the last time he heard him talk about Frankie. But he didn't say anything, for he was shocked, too, that he referred to her as his sister for the first time since he met her.

"Dean Winchester?" a voice called from the door to the lab. Sam and Dean both looked over to the man in scrubs holding a clipboard in his hands. The two brothers quickly shook off the pestered nerves from their argument before Dean stood up and raised a hand with a tight smile. The nurse walked over to him with a much wider grin. "Congratulations. You're a match."

Despite him having a clear hunch after he passed the other two tests, the news came as a shock to Dean. He couldn't believe that for once something had gone right. And he also couldn't believe his alcohol riddled kidney was a match for the girl. "That's great," he finally breathed out.

"Would you like to inform Miss Pearce or remain anonymous?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer. Only the problem was that he didn't have an answer. Of course he wanted Frankie to have his kidney, but despite his passionate argument, Sam had a point. It wasn't fair to choose innocent lives over their sister, no matter how much he wanted her to live.

He made a promise to her to find a kidney. He kept his promise. Now he just had to decide to give it to her. He obviously wanted to, but he had to be careful. If he wasn't, the angels might plow through the place like a bullet train.

He had to give the nurse some sort of answer. Sending a look down to the puzzled Sam, Dean pressed his lips together with a groan ripping through his throat. He lolled his head back over to the nurse, his voice filled with exasperation. "Can I think about it for a minute?"

Frankie scrapped the pile of gravel over the fresh hole in the ground with her foot, covering the summoning box. It had taken her a few minutes to find a place to dig where there wasn't already a box. The thought of all the people who came to that same decommissioned underpass before her to desperately give away their souls dug another hole right into her heart.

Now with her box buried, she looked around at the area, listening to the cars speeding on the highway above her. She scrunched her shoulders up against the chilly air.

"Hello, love."

Frankie jerked her head to the side where another person stood. Although… that wasn't really a person, was it?

"Wonderful weather we're having, yeah?" the 'man' chatted with an obvious British accent. Unable to speak, she took in his appearance. He wore a black suit, his hands in his pockets, and had a rather smug face, even if it was masked in the moonlight.

"Y-You got here fast," she forced out, her voice nervous from his sudden appearance. She really shouldn't be nervous. After all, she had killed multiple demons before.

"Eh. It's been a slow day," he shrugged off. Frankie noticed something about his eyes that she couldn't shake. Maybe it was simply confidence in a dangerous creature.

"Are you a demon?" she asked, turning to fully face him. He thoughtfully rolled his eyes.

"In the simplest terms, yes. You did summon me didn't you?" Against Frankie's internal wishes, he slowly began stepping towards her. "What can I do for you?"

Frankie's body heaved its own jittery breath of air as she shoved her hands into her pockets. 'God, say something! Stop being so nervous!' she scolded in her head.

"You seem nervous," the demon accurately noted. His face then split into an amused smirk, masked to look surprised. "Is this your first time selling your soul?"

Frankie scoffed at his sarcastic remark, crossing her arms and tightening them until she felt some sort of security. "Is it that obvious?" she remarked back. What, was she bantering with a demon now? Despite her wishes of having not done so, it at least got a light chuckle out of him.

"Well, let's make this a little easier. Our transaction won't be at all satisfying if it takes you all night to answer." Frankie shivered at the idea of whatever kind of transaction was about to go down. "Name's Crowley."

Frankie raised a brow at the notion. It was strange for a demon to be so formal, but it did take some of the ease off of her shoulders, even if just slightly. She cleared her throat to shake off the jitters in her voice. "Frankie."

"And how are you feeling this fine evening, Frankie?"

She shook her head, not believe that she was having small talk with a crossroads demon. She put on a tired expression before speaking the truth of how she was feeling. "Lousy, to be honest."

"Honesty. A respectable trait."

Frankie rolled her eyes with a smirk. She was actually smirking now? "You flatter me."

'Oh dear Jesus. Shut up!'

"You're easy to flatter," he responded with a light bow. When he rose back up, however, his face was all business. "There. Now that we know each other a little better, what is it that you most desire?"

Now came the hard part. Now came the moment where Frankie would lay out her terms in return for her soul. She couldn't believe she was really doing this. The uncharacteristic politeness of the goddamn demon wasn't helping her dissociation from reality.

"Sometime tonight would be wonderful."

Frankie sucked in a breath and forced out words, lest they never come out. "I want health." The demon Crowley seemed unfazed as if he had heard the same wish a million times. In fact, he probably had. "I-I want my kidneys to be healed, and for them to never be an issue again." Her eyes turned away from the emotionless demon and instead looked down to the gravel below her. "I'm already too much of a burden on my family… I can't keep dragging them down with me."

"Is that all?" Crowley asked, an almost unimpressed tone to his words. Frankie flicked her eyes back up to him.

"What more could I want?" she asked back. Though when she gave it a thought, she knew that there indeed was something else she wanted. It was to help ensure that she never had to go to Italy. "There actually is something."

"I thought there might. There was that small sliver of want still unspoken in your soul."

Frankie blinked in awe at the demon. Could he hear her thoughts?

He shrugged. "I'm good at reading people. It's part of the job."

Frankie nodded, though she wasn't sure why she was nodding. "Anyway," she continued with a shake of her head, "I have a family that I hate. My aunt, uncle, and their two sons." Frankie took in a deep breath before extending her demands. There would be no going back. "My brother wants me to go to Italy with them if I survive. I'd rather die… but as you can see, I don't want that either. I want them gone. I never want to see them again. I want them out of my life for good. Can you do that?"

A deep, rather intimidating chuckle reverberated from Crowley's throat. "Darling, I can do anything." The sinister undertones of his words made her wish she had never mentioned her family. "So here's what I'll do for you, love," he announced, slipping back into business mode. "I'll give you ten years. Ten years of health. Ten years without being a burden. Ten years without your pain of a family. After that, well… your deal will be…," Frankie didn't miss the light smirk ghosting across his face, "terminated. Do we have a deal?"

Frankie lingered on that final word. Deal. Somehow, hearing that word made things all the more surreal. She knew she had to agree. She had to. She wouldn't get another chance to be healed and have her family out of her ass forever. Well… ten years. But hey, that was forever for her wasn't it? A soul deep sigh escaped her as she clenched her hands into fists. Her throat grew a brand new lump in it.

"Deal."

The slightly hidden smirk on his face grew to full size, exposing the menacing canines of his meat suit's teeth. He slinked his hands out of his pockets and spread his arms out. "Good girl."

"So… so we're done here?" she anxiously asked, the jitters quickly swarming her again. The low chuckling from the demon didn't help at all.

"You really haven't done this before," he sighed, returning his hands to his pocket and stepping closer. Much too close, Frankie soon found out. She leaned away from him once he got close enough to touch toes. "There's a certain act of sealing the deal that we're missing."

"Okay, so… how do we seal the deal?" Somehow, his smirk grew more intimidating when he shrank it into a light grin with mischievous intent.

"Frankie and Crowley, sitting in a tree…," he spoke lowly, his voice seemingly vibrating against her at the close distance. Frankie eyes widened when it finally clicked.

"A-A-A kiss?!"

"Just a peck. Although, for such a packed request, I might just have to raise the price."

"No! Come on! A kiss?!" the girl exclaimed, turning away and throwing her hands into her face. "I can't-… a demon! Geez!"

"Oh, please. Get over yourself. It's no different from kissing your grandmother."

"Except you're a demon!"

"Yes. You've made that perfectly clear," Crowley drawled, voice growing irritated. "I guarantee, it won't be disappointing. I've received many compliments." Frankie turned back towards him with a troubled glint in her eyes. "And a few complaints. It varies. Let's see where you lie."

"I… I don't know, I…"

"Do you want to be free of your burden or not?"

Frankie snapped her eyes up to the demon. Of course she did. And she would do anything to ensure her own happiness, and her brothers'… even if that meant smooching a monster she swore to hunt.

She closed her eyes, attempting to wash away her nerves through a long sigh. "Okay."

When she opened her eyes, Crowley was smirking as usual, only this time the smirk was growing closer. Frankie darted her eyes down to his slightly parted lips. The very sight triggered a flame of anxiety in her chest, causing her to turn away. Crowley gave a tired sigh, but he didn't back away from his close proximity.

"Honestly. It's not like you haven't done this before." Frankie tried. She tried so hard to mask it, but it was no use. He was too clever, too good at reading people. He knew exactly what her tortured look meant. She gave a glance back over to him. He was gazing hard into her eyes. "Wait… no." That ghost of a smirk made its way back to his face. "You… haven't done this before, have you?"

She closed her eyes in defeat. There was no use answering. He knew anyways, and that was very apparent by his short bark of laughter. "This is too rich, even for me. You've never kissed anyone before, have you?"

"Go on and rub it in," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Oh, darling, I will do no such thing. It's an honor for me to be your very first kiss."

"Please stop talking," she mumbled as she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Oh, come on now. Where's your sense of fun, huh? After all, it's go big or go home with these things. How much bigger can you get than this?"

"Can we please just get on with this? Please?"

Crowley cocked his head to the side, a seductive smirk plastered on his face. "Eager are we?" Frankie felt like tossing her lunch. "Very well, love."

Continuing where they left off, Crowley pulled a hand out of his suit pocket and lifted it to Frankie's cheek. She flinched when it got too close, but allowed him to place it there. It wasn't like she had much of a choice. It was either his way or no way.

His thumb rested just below her eye. His hand was oddly both hot and cold. It was such a strange feeling, one she wanted to escape from. Why didn't he just kiss her already?!

Finally, his hand travelled away from her cheek and slid to the back of her head, lightly pulling it towards his own. Frankie didn't get the chance to look at his lips this time. It was for the best. She probably would have pulled away again.

The moment their lips connected, it was all Crowley. Obviously, Frankie didn't know what to do, but that was okay considering Crowley was the orchestrator in that symphony. It almost seemed as if he were trying to impress her with how slowly and seemingly expertly he glided across her lips, but the main bullet point of her observation was how surprisingly soft his lips were. She had never felt another person's lips before. Only her mother's on her cheek, this was much different than that.

Sadly, just when she thought she might be the tiniest bit enjoying the sensation, he pulled away, leaving her with a tingling, almost raw feeling across her naked lips. She snapped her eyes open observing his face for… anything. Her eyes however, betrayed her and focused more on his lips.

"Was that so hard?" he chimed as he distanced himself from her. She sucked in a breath to get her lungs back in working order, but she had no words to say. "Well, this has been fun, but there are more souls to collect. I'll see you in ten years." Frankie brought her hands up to cradle her arms. "Enjoy your kidneys, Frankie."

And then he was gone, vanished into the air. But that wasn't the oddest thing. The oddest thing was how her insides felt. They felt… good. Great. Pain nonexistent. No longer needing to hobble with each step to avoid the worst of the agony.

She was cured. Her kidneys were healed. And her soul now belonged to Hell.

… Mission accomplished. Yay.

Dean sat alone in the cafeteria, his chin resting on his linked hands. He was thinking hard, weighing option after option. In between prolonged thoughts, he would get up to fetch something to eat and bring it back to the table. He'd eat and think some more. And then he'd put the plate off to the side and think even more. He had been sitting there for so long that the sky had turned from pitch black to a light lavender. His eyes were heavy, but refused to sleep on his decision. It was a tough one to make.

How does one choose the life of many innocent people, some ill and some saddened by sick friends and family, between their sister, a sister they hadn't even known for a full month yet? And among those sick innocents was Bobby. What if the angels took him out in the crossfire?

There was a lot riding on his decision. He promised he would do whatever it took to make her well. He found a way, but that wasn't enough to fulfill his promise. He couldn't break one again, especially with her. He remembered all too well the last time he broke a promise he made with her. He refused to do it again. He would save her, and if that meant putting others in danger, well he'd do it. He didn't want to, obviously, but he couldn't see Frankie die because of what he did.

He knew what he had to do. He had to save Frankie. When it came down to it, the world was ending anyways. These people might even die before then, but if they didn't, Lucifer would surely take them out. But there was a catch. Saving Frankie would allow more capable hands on deck to stop the bastard. With her help, they could find a way to stop the end of the world. They could. Anything was possible, especially with her help. He truly believed that. She was a tough, smart kid. He gave her alarmingly low credit for what she was worth. He couldn't let her die knowing he didn't praise her like her should have.

His chest felt a little lighter when the decision was made. He chose Frankie. Sam wouldn't like it, but he could deal with it. Dean would give her his kidney. And he wouldn't be anonymous, either. In fact, he would march right down himself and give her the news.

Scooting his chair back, he rose from his seat and made his way through the hospital until he approached familiar territory. He gave a light smile, feeling good too early about Frankie pulling through. He couldn't wait to tell her. The feeling only grew when he found the light in her room to be on.

He walked right through the door, no knocking or anything. And he soon found his smile to be short-lived.

The room was already filled. Bobby stood on his crutches next to Frankie's bed accompanied by Sam. On the other side of the bed, a doctor stood. Right in the middle, Frankie sat up, looking much better than the last time he saw her.

"Dean," she sighed, a smile spreading across her cheeks. He barely acknowledged her, still trying to figure out if everyone in the room meant something good or bad.

"What's going on?" he asked, closing the door and stepping further into the room.

The doctor wore a smile similar to Frankie's as he spoke. "We can't explain it. It's the absolute craziest thing. But somehow… Frankie here has made a full recovery."

"Uh…," Dean's voice squeezed out on impulse. He shook his head to achieve some sort of function to his vocal chords. "What?"

"We've had three doctor's look into it. Not one of them could explain how her previously dead kidney regained function. We assume it had to do with the rapid decreasing of cysts on her organs, but even that is absurd."

"So… she just… magically got better overnight?" he asked the doctor, switching his gaze to look over the girl. She looked away from him, switching her gaze to the doctor instead.

"Well, we certainly can't explain it with science." The doctor leaned over to the girl and smacked her arm with the back of his hand. "Told you angels were watching over you."

Dean watched as she smiled in response to hearing the good news. He tried for a smile, too, but he couldn't deny his feelings. He was… disappointed. He had hoped that he would be the one to make her smile like that, not the doctor.

And after taking a moment to register how he felt, he was almost angry. Did he not just spend hours brewing over what he would decide to do about his kidney? After all, he had a promise to keep. And now he couldn't keep that promise because her kidneys just decided to heal themselves?

He was bitter. He knew that all too well. He shouldn't be. Now no one had to die because he decided to go through with surgery. That was great. But if that was so great, why did he feel like shit?

"How?" he mumbled under his breath.

"I'm sorry?" the doctor responded. But Dean wasn't talking to him.

He lifted his head to the girl on the bed, meeting eyes with her as he wondered aloud. "How did this happen?"

Frankie's smile didn't look right this time. Her cheeks were pink from grinning, but her eyes didn't smile with her. The gesture just looked plain wrong. The girl shrugged her shoulders as she leaned back against her pillow.

"Miracle?"