Dean seemed to barely notice the smashed window of his precious car. He took a second to wipe away some glass from the seat, then climbed in. As soon as Sam and I had joined him he threw the car into gear, and we sped off the bridge.

For a while we were silent, each caught up in our worries. I was the first to break the silence.

"Sorry about your window," I said. My voice was barely above a whisper, and though I knew that I really shouldn't feel bad, I couldn't help but feel that Dean was upset with me. He loved his car.

From the front seat Dean snorted. "I don't care about the window," he told me. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, then realized that Dean couldn't see. "Yeah," I said.

"We do need to get the window fixed," Sam pointed out. "It's gonna draw suspicion, and we gotta lay low for a while."

Dean nodded. "Let's find somewhere to bunker down first," he suggested. "We'll worry about the rest later."

I frowned. "How are we going to finish the case?" I asked. "We need to get back to town!"

Dean shrugged. "We'll sneak in."

I took a moment to mull over his words. "And by 'we,' you mean…"

"I mean me and Sam," Dean stated. His voice had taken on a commanding tone, and I felt myself rise to the bait.

"Nah-uh. Not gonna happen. I'm coming." I crossed my arms, and I could barely see Dean's face twist in a frown.

"Every cop in that place will be looking for you," he stated. "Plus, you almost just got run off a bridge, and then the damn ghost nearly stabbed you!"

I rolled my eyes. "I've been in dangerous situations before," I reminded him. "I can handle myself. Besides, I think now that you've punched the sheriff they've realized that you're not actually FBI agents. You're in as much trouble as I am."

Dean shot Sam a glare as if to say help me, but Sam only shook his head. He at least had learned that trying to tell me what to do was useless.

We rented a motel room about an hour away, and Dean left almost immediately to get the car fixed. He ended up driving several towns over, just in case the police tried to find us by looking for the impala. He returned some time later with dinner and our bags.

"What- did you sneak into town on your own?" I asked.

"Yep." Dean sent me a smirk and sank into a chair, and I rolled my eyes.

"At least we know that we can," commented Sam.

I nodded. "They probably won't expect us to go into town; they'll think we're running for it. They've already got a news alert out on us."

Dean groaned. "Great. Have they figured out who Sam and I are?"

"Not yet. When the media starts going crazy about the criminal brothers who can't seem to die then we'll know that they know."

All three of us let out a quick laugh.

"Have you called Cas?" asked Dean.

I shook my head. "I'll give him a call tonight, like always. Him knowing that I'm now a fugitive, even if the police don't have my full name, won't do any good. He'll just worry. Besides, he's busy. He probably won't even answer."

Dean nodded, looking unconvinced. Luckily, neither brother pressed me.

Why didn't I want to call Cas? It wasn't that I didn't want him to know what was going on, and I wasn't upset with him for anything. Maybe it was just that I knew he would worry, and I really didn't want to be mothered over.

I also knew my reluctance to call Cas was pertaining to my realization two nights ago. I'd been able to shove it for the most part to the back of my mind, but it was still there, lurking. Twisting my stomach into knots.

I shoved aside my worry again, joining Sam by the computer as he pulled up an image of Toby Williams. He had been a strong jawed young man with dark hair that hung into nearly black eyes. Back when he'd been alive, I was sure he'd been the captain of the eye-candy club.

I nodded. "That's him." Even though the ghost that had attacked me had been murderous enough so that he was barely recognizable as the softly smiling man in the photo, I could still recognize them as the same person. What had happened to him to make him the way he was now? Who had killed him?

"Where's he buried?" asked Dean. Sam spent a few minutes searching on the computer.

"There's nothing listed," he said.

"His brother would know," I pointed out.

"He won't talk to us," Dean objected. "He was suspicious of us the first time; there's no way he'll let us say a word. He'll just call the police."

I frowned. "Why was he so suspicious?" I asked.

Sam shrugged. "Some people just are."

"When do we sneak back in?" I asked.

"Tonight." Dean tossed me my burger. "Eat. We'll leave when it's dark."

True to his word, as soon as the sky was reasonably dark we left the motel room, and I was happy to see a new window in place in the impala. We didn't take it though, walking a few blocks before hot wiring a car. We knew our own car was too easily recognizable.

The bridge into town was blocked off by yellow police tape, a digital sign blinking several miles back to warn travelers of the fact. We did as the sign said and headed south until we came to another entrance to the town.

Kurt Wiliams's house was completely dark, not even a single light on. We crept up to the back door with flashlights and rock salt guns, and Dean picked the lock.

We split up, searching the house for some sort of document pertaining to where Toby was buried. Kurt had to have something in his house.

I ended up in the dining room, digging through the doors of a china closet that looked like it had seen better days. There was nothing. As I finished with the last drawer I stood, nearly forgetting to keep quiet about how I closed it in my frustration.

Then an object on the mantelpiece caught my eye. A single black vase, the lid fastened tightly, stood at the center of the shelf. I crossed the room to it with a frown, setting down my flashlight and twisting off the lid.

Peering inside, I uttered a long stream of curses. The vase was filled with black ash, and I knew instantly what it was. I stormed into the kitchen, where Sam and Dean were going through the counter drawers.

"Found the brother," I declared. They both looked up hopefully, and I all but slammed the vase onto the counter. "How did you two not notice that when you were here?"

Sam bit his lip. "Oops," he managed.

I glowered at him.

"So now what do we do?" Dean asked. "There's gotta be something else tying it here."

We spun as we heard a clomping on the stairs. "Who's there?" called a voice. I only assumed it belonged to Kurt Wiliams.

"Never mind that, run!" I grabbed Sam and Dean's hands and bolted for the door, and we closed the back door behind us just in time.

"Shit," I gasped. "We left the vase on the counter!"

Dean scowled. "It doesn't matter," he said.

It turned out it did. Before we could move the back door opened, revealing one very flustered Kurt Williams. Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and looking like he'd just rolled out of bed, he was clutching a baseball bat firmly in his hands. Immediately he swung the bat, not caring which one of us he hit, just that he hit someone.

I had to duck to avoid being brained, and Sam grabbed my hand and pulled me back. Together we ran away from the house, chased all the way by Kurt. Climbing the rickety metal fence at the edge of the property, we all jumped to the other side moments before the bat connected with where Dean had just been. As we darted through the next yard Kurt's shouts filled the air behind us, and throughout the neighborhood lights started to flicker on.

"Here!" Sam pulled us behind someone's shed, pulling out his lock pick. Soon the lock on the door clattered to the ground, and Sam wrenched open the door. Once we were safely inside the shed I reached for my pocket where I'd stuffed my little flashlight.

"Turn that off," Dean ordered. "Someone passing by could see the light from under the door."

I scowled, but did as he said. It was a good thing too. A few minutes later we heard sirens, and as all the police cars- and it sounded like quite a few of them too- came to a stop in the streets, orders to spread out and search for us were shouted.

We sat in the dark and waited, and I tried not to imagine what spiders and other insects were in the dark shed with us. Hunting and all its gore I could handle. Spiders I couldn't. They were just too creepy.

In our hiding place, every creak of wood and every noise outside was a cop searching for us. Every time we heard something we tensed, but nothing ever came through the door. At last I scooted closer to where Sam and Dean crouched.

"Should I call Cas?" I asked. "He can fly us out of here."

There was a moment of silence, which was only prolonged as we saw the bright light of sweeping flashlights from outside the door. We held our breaths, only relaxing again when the footsteps outside faded.

"Text him," whispered Sam.

I nodded and pulled out my phone, dimming its light just in case. I sent the text, then shoved the phone back in my pocket.

"Lucy?"

I turned as Cas's voice sounded behind me. Well, that didn't take long, I thought.

"Here," I whispered. I heard shuffling, and a moment later Cas's hand came to rest on my shoulder.

"Hey Angel Dust," I whispered. I could all but see the thin smile that split Cas's lips at my nickname, and he slowly leaned forward until he could press a kiss to my forehead.

"Hello."

"Make out later, first get us out of here," Dean ordered.

As soon as we were in the motel room Cas pulled me to him, and I kissed him hard. It had been a while since we'd last seen each other, and neither of us liked the separation.

Sam and Dean had moved to the table, giving us some privacy, and once Cas and I had broken apart we went to join them.

"We've gotta figure out what the ghost is tied to," stated Sam.

Cas held up a hand. "What are you even working on?" he asked.

Dean quickly filled him in, and I sat back in my chair to think. If Toby Williams was tied to a specific object, he would be forced to stay near that object. Since he appeared on a bridge, I doubted that was the case. Unless that object was the bridge.

"What if it's the bridge?" I asked. "Assuming he died there and was tossed into the river, he could be tied to the place where he died."

"We can't burn down the whole bridge," objected Sam. He frowned.

Dean thought for a moment. "We might not have to. What if it's not the bridge itself he's tied to? What if there's blood on the bridge that never came off, and that's what's keeping him here?"

"You would only need to burn those pieces," commented Cas.

"Not tonight." Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge. "We've gotta stay here for a few days until everything quiets down."

"At least we don't have to get into town this time," I offered.

"But now the police know we haven't left the area," Sam pointed out. "They'll be watching all exits in case we try to sneak out; they think we're still there."

I sighed. This was going to be difficult. Besides me Cas was switching his gaze between us worriedly. He seemed about to suggest he stay to help us when someone cleared their throat behind us.

"Castiel." We all lurched to our feet and spun to take in the woman standing across the room. With dark hair and eyes and an olive complexion, she was stunning to look at. "You need to come back. We were in the middle of a meeting."

Cas sighed, and I glanced up at him.

"Did you walk out on a meeting to come get us?" I whispered.

His only response was a shrug.

"Who the hell is this?" asked Dean. He was glaring at the angel, and just behind him Sam was drifting slowly closer to the bag of weapons on the bed.

"This is Yvonne," Cas told us.

Yvonne stepped forward slightly. "The Winchesters," she greeted. "Now a trio. I am Yvonne, an angel of the lord."

I decided not to mention that the lord had more or less ditched his angels, simply giving Yvonne a nod and small smile. The angel ignored Sam and Dean's glares, turning back to Cas with a raised eyebrow that clearly said let's go.

"I have to go," Cas said. He turned to me, and there was sorrow in his eyes. "Will you be alright without me?"

I rolled my own eyes. "I'll be fine," I told him. I pulled on his tie, and eagerly we descended into a last kiss. "Check in when you can, "I whispered.

Cas nodded, his nose brushing the side of my face. He planted one last kiss on my nose, and then he and Yvonne were gone.

I slipped off to my room soon after. There was little to do for the case; we were stuck waiting until the police calmed down a bit before sneaking over to the bridge. Seeing Cas had reminded me of the worries that had been circulating through my head, and I crawled into bed to ponder them. By the time I'd fallen asleep an hour later, I still hadn't found a solution.

It was another two days before we could get back to town. Naturally we waited till night, then loaded up another stolen car and hit the road. As Dean guided the car through the streets our eyes skirted about nervously, but no one stopped us. As we neared the bridge my heart began to pound in my chest.

"Stop the car," I ordered. Sam and Dean glanced back at me in confusion, but Dean guided the car to the side of the road.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'd rather not have a repeat of the last time we were at the bridge," I stated. "We're almost to the ghost's range; let's walk the rest of the way."

The boys didn't seem too pleased by this idea, but they nonetheless climbed out of the car. We gathered the gas and salt, then started forward. Now that we were closer to town we were even more on edge. On foot there was no chance of us outrunning a police car, whether it was being driven by a cop or a ghost.

Luckily for us, there was no one on the bridge as we approached. The police tape was still there, but the cops must have blocked off the road closer to town. We set to examining the wooden boards of the bridge, searching for anything that might be blood.

Instinct had me spin five minutes later, just in time to see the flash of a ghostly knife strike at my chest. I threw myself out of the way, not even wasting time with a cry of surprise.

"Guys!" I scrambled to my feet and spun, pulling out the iron rod I had tucked into my belt. As Toby Williams struck again I parried, then slipped past his guard and whacked him with the rod. He flickered, then disappeared.

"Behind you!"

I spun at Sam's words to see Toby appear again, and as Sam rushed over I again began to block. Each time one of us landed a blow the ghost would simply appear somewhere else, and we put ourselves back to back so he couldn't sneak up behind us. Off to the side Dean was frantically searching the ramparts of the bridge.

I knew we couldn't keep this up for much longer. Sam and I were already tiring, and it was only a matter of time before the ghost turned its attention to Dean's unprotected back. As far away from him as Sam and I were, I doubted that we could reach him on time, and as involved in his searching as Dean was, I wasn't sure that he would notice the ghost until it was too late.

So, grasping at straws, I stepped forward. "Toby!" I shouted.

The ghost paused, blinking, but a moment later resumed its attack. I ignored Sam's glare as we continued to defend against Toby; it had been worth a try. It had nearly worked too. I just needed to get through to him, and maybe the ghost would let go of this world on its own.

"Toby!" I tried again. "Tobias Williams, listen to me!"

I spun as he disappeared, automatically lifting the iron bar I carried to block his downward swipe to my head.

"Tobias Williams is dead," he snarled. "I am dead. You will be too."

He shoved, and I stumbled backwards. He started forward again, and I summoned up my courage and rolled my eyes, letting him do so.

"That was probably the cheesiest threat I've ever heard," I told him.

"What?" Now Toby had paused, staring at me as though I was insane. Seeing as I was insulting a ghost that was trying to slice and dice me, insane was probably a good word to describe me.

Instead of acknowledging this, I simply crossed my arms and nodded.

"I am dead; you will be too? Come on, that's right out of the movies. If you're going to kill me, at least don't do it with lame lines like that."

Now the knife in Toby's hand had lowered slightly, and he was staring at me in confusion. Sam paused, his glance going between the ghost and me. I signaled for him to stay where he was, and ever so slightly he nodded.

I continued. "Of course," I said, "you don't have to kill me. What did I ever do to you? What did any of the people you've killed do to you?"

Toby's mouth twisted into a snarl. "Revenge," he swore. "I will have revenge."

I frowned. "For your death? Toby, they weren't involved in your death. They were just innocent people. You murdered them, just like you were murdered. How does that make you better than the person who killed you? What gives you the right to do that?"

Toby frowned now, and his hands fell limply to his side. I didn't relax though; he was still holding the knife, and could lunge at me at any moment.

I inspected Toby. He was clearly racking his brain, trying to find the answers to his questions. Now that someone had mentioned how wrong what he'd been doing was, he was having trouble with it. I wondered if that would work on all ghosts. I made a mental note to use it again in the future, if I survived that long.

"Toby," I whispered. I stepped forward, and he looked up at me, rage, pain, and confusion swirling in his eyes. I felt my heart give a shudder for him, this young man who had been murdered so brutally. He'd never had a chance to enjoy life.

"What happened to you?" I asked. "Tell me."

Toby gulped, the motion spreading apart the skin on his throat where it had been slashed. "My brother," he said at last. "My brother killed me."

Now it was my turn to blink. "Your brother?" I asked. "But- why?"

Toby clenched his fists. "We loved the same girl," he told me. "She loved me more, and Kurt knew it. We got into a fight at the bar, and I decided to walk home. I just thought he needed some space." Toby snorted in derision. "I was on the bridge when I heard the car coming behind me, Kurt behind the wheel. I didn't have a chance to get out of the way."

My eyes were watering with tears, but Toby wasn't done. His eyes, as flat as they were in their ghostliness, had taken on a faraway look. "Then he got out of the car," he told me. "I had a pocket knife on me; Kurt had given it to me for my birthday when I was twenty." He looked at the knife in his hand with an ironic smile. When he looked back to me there was a gleam in his eyes, and I could tell he was enjoying my horror. "He took the knife and killed me. He was in a rage, so it wasn't quick." He gestured to the many slashes that crisscrossed his arms and chest, then finally pointed to the slash across his throat. "He did all this, then stabbed me in the chest and threw me over the bridge. I died in the water."

There were tears coming down my face. "I'm so- I'm so sorry," I whispered. I stepped closer, and Toby watched me curiously. No longer was his face hostile, only curious. His revelation of his death seemed to have quieted the rage within him, at least for now. I suspected we didn't have long until it bucked up again.

"Toby," I insisted. "You have to let go. This isn't right." I shook my head to accentuate my point. "It's time to let go now."

Toby's eyes narrowed. "You sound like it," he stated.

I paused, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "Huh?" I asked.

"The voice," explained Toby. Now his face had taken on an expression of awe and suspicion, and he looked at me with appraising eyes. "The voice said the same things."

"What voice?" asked Sam. Toby didn't even glance over to him, keeping his eyes trained on me as he spoke.

"Yesterday," he confided. "The voice came to me. It told me the same things you did. It offered me a place in heaven."

"And you didn't go?" I asked.

Toby bared his teeth, hefting the knife to show it to me. "With what I've done? The gates would never open for me. I told the voice this, but it didn't care. It said it would build a new heaven for me, a place where my crimes didn't matter."

I gulped. Who the hell had the power to do that? "Did you see the person who told you this?" I asked.

Toby shook his head. "There was only a voice. Nothing else. It had no one source; it came from all things."

I traded a look with Sam. Could this have to do with the Grace Crisis? Did the demons actually build their god? If so, what were they doing harvesting more souls?

Trying to get stronger, I reminded myself. Absorbing more souls, like Cas did with Purgatory. Like the angels' grace. Whoever this is lied to Toby.

I chose not to say this to him. Instead I stepped closer, dangerously close. I was now only inches away from him, and Sam edged closer, ready to interfere.

"I don't know if the voice has a place waiting for you," I told him. "I don't know if you can get into heaven. But I do know this; you can't stay. Toby, you're dead. Be dead. Rest now. It's ok to let go."

Toby stared at me, and I could tell he was considering. "I don't want to go," he whispered at last, and to my anguish his voice was breaking. "I'm scared."

I nodded, and a new tear streaked down my face. "I know," I whispered. "I know."

I reached out to his shoulder. My hand, I knew, would simply pass through him, so I hovered my palm about where his clothes started, grey and flickering in the lights that lined the bridge. Despite the fact that we weren't touching, Toby seemed comforted by my action. Slowly his free hand came up to hover over mine.

Then he screamed. I yelped as Sam dove forward, tackling me to the ground. I writhed, desperate to shove him off me and figure out what was happening, but Sam had me pinned, coving me protectively with his large body. After a minute everything was silent.

"Let me up!" I shouted. "Sam!"

Sam pushed off me, and I stumbled to my feet. Where was Toby?

"Are you ok?" he asked. I nodded dumbly, still scanning around for the ghost. I'd been so close to convincing him to let go; I could feel it. Was all my work cancelled out now? Was he about to attack again?

"He's gone," Dean told me. For the first time I glanced over to him, taking in the smoldering ashes at his feet. He'd found the blood stained wood and burned it.

I nodded. Toby had moved on. Maybe not by will, but that didn't matter. We'd done what we'd come here to do. Our job was done.

So why did my insides hurt so much?

"His brother killed him," I muttered. Sam and Dean exchanged wary glances, unsure of where I was heading. "His own brother."

Dean nodded and stepped forward, resting his hand on my shoulder. The action brought fresh tears to my eyes, reminding me of how I'd only moments ago been comforting Toby in the same way. "I know," he said. "I heard."

"We can't do anything," Sam said. "I'm sorry. I know you want to, but how are we supposed to do anything? There's no evidence, and no one would listen to us. The only ones who'd get arrested would be us."

I nodded at his reminder of our fugitive statuses. "I know," I whispered. Still, it didn't seem right. I closed my eyes briefly, fighting to regain control over my emotions. When I opened them again I nodded to tell Dean I was fine. "Let's go."

The car ride back to the motel was silent, but as we moved towards our rooms I noticed that Sam and Dean walked a little closer together. As I went to open my door they each drew me into a hug, and I welcomed the comfort they offered me. I collapsed into bed, my heart heavy. I fell asleep quickly, but when I woke the next morning, I could faintly remember dreams tinged with sadness.