McKenna fiddled with the IV tube attached to the back of her right hand. She wanted nothing more than to rip it from her body, escape from the hospital, climb onto the back of her Hog, and drive away forever.

I'd never even look back…

She looked up and eyed the doctor across the room. He smiled, but McKenna refused to return it. The man was a nice guy, really. But for now, he was the bearer of bad news, so naturally, McKenna hated his guts and wished him dead.

She felt a comforting hand rest on her shoulder and looked up at its owner. Sam smiled down at her, but she still couldn't force the corners of her lips up. She looked at Dean as he stood in the corner of the room, leaning his right shoulder into the wall. He was frowning and his hands were shoved into his pockets as far as they would go. A very obvious sign that he was angry.

Bobby sat in his wheelchair next to Dean, clearly prepared to play guard dog if he had to.

"I wish I had better news," the doctor began. "I really do."

McKenna's body stiffened, and Sam released his gentle hold on her. He watched her, fully prepared for her to go into full on McKenna/Ninja mode, but her body simply wouldn't allow it.

Sam noticed that her face held no emotion. No fear, no anger. Just nothing.

"So chemotherapy isn't even an option?" Sam asked, choosing to speak for her.

"I'm afraid not," the doctor answered. "McKenna's cancer is so advanced that chemo wouldn't even touch it."

"So, it's not even worth a shot?" Bobby asked, from his place in the corner.

"We could try, yes," the doctor nodded. "But to be honest, it would really be nothing more than a waste of time."

The room was silent for a long time. Each one of them had their own thoughts, their own opinions about what could be done, but no one seemed strong enough to voice them.

Finally, Dean spoke. "So, what do we do now?"

The doctor made his way across the room, dragging his feet heavily across the floor as he went. He collapsed into the chair next to the bed, and carelessly tossed McKenna's medical file onto the nightstand.

He was the absolute picture of a man defeated. And McKenna had never been more scared in her entire life.

"I don't know," the doctor mumbled. "I really…really don't know."

He suddenly turned his body toward McKenna, directing the rest of his words at her, alone. "McKenna, we can make you as comfortable as possible, give you a nice, long-term room to stay in, but as far as treatment and healing goes…there is nothing more I can do."

McKenna glanced down at the pair of clenched hands resting in her lap. They belonged to her, but she didn't recognize them. She let out a long, quivering breath, and that simple movement, alone made her dizzy and uneasy.

"How much time do I have?" she finally asked.

The doctor looked at the floor and shook his head. "If you choose to stay in the hospital, stay hooked up on fluids, and get lots of rest… five, possibly six months at the most."

McKenna's eyes grew large. "So, you're saying I don't have to stay?"

Her question brought an immediate reaction from Dean. "Kenna, you can't—"

"I'm not staying here to waste away in a bed for six months, Dean," she argued. "I'm not going to lay around, drugged up, and waiting to die."

She lifted her hand and waved it towards the door. "Doc, go get me some sign out sheets or whatever it is I need to get out of here."

"I can understand why you would want to leave, but I'm obligated to encourage you to stay," he said, softly. "Without proper care, you…you won't last long."

"How long?" Sam asked.

"Two…maybe three months," the doctor answered. "Depending on what it is you choose to do with the time you have left."

Sam, Dean, and Bobby shared a hard look. They knew McKenna better than anyone. And they knew exactly what she planned to do with her time, which meant that she'd easily be dead within a week.

Bobby wheeled himself closer to McKenna's bed and attempted to take her hand. "Kenna, sweetheart—"

"Don't try sweet talking me out of this, Bobby," she grunted, and pulled her hand from his firm grasp. "Doc, I want out of here."

The doctor stood to his feet, and slowly made his way toward the door. He paused for a moment, and looked back, clearly hoping that she'd change her mind.

McKenna glared at him. "Now."

Without another word, he quickly took off to gather the proper paperwork.

Dean pushed himself off the wall, and bravely stepped toward McKenna's bed. The doctor may have been afraid of her, but Dean certainly wasn't.

He paused.

Well…maybe a little bit.

"So, it's a suicide mission, then, huh?" Dean began, his voice and body language completely condescending in every way possible. "You're going to head out there and try to gank your last two demons, all the while slowly dying of advanced stages of cancer."

Sam and Bobby glared at him, but Dean only ignored them.

"Did I leave anything out?" he added, smugly.

McKenna's chin trembled, but thanks to years of practice, she quickly steeled her emotions. Instead, she did what she did best, and chose the road of anger.

"This is my decision, Dean," she hissed. "It's my life, and I get to choose what I do with what little time I have left. I have to find those demons. It's all I have left to live for. It's my job."

"That's not why you're doing it, Kenna, and you know it," Dean argued. "Yes, I know how important killing those demons is to you. Really, I get it. But deep down, you're doing it for another reason."

Sam and Bobby remained silent, but they were both involved in the argument just as much as McKenna and Dean were.

"Deep down, you're hoping that you die on the job, because you can't stand the idea of letting this cancer kill you," Dean continued. "You're too proud a person to allow that to happen. So, no, you'd rather die a hunter's death and go out in a blaze of glory. Well, I for one am not going to allow it."

He finished his speech and McKenna couldn't help but smile.

Dean should have known better. He should have known that his words would mean nothing more to her than a direct challenge. She pushed the covers aside, and let her feet dangle a few inches above the floor below.

"Kenna…" Dean warned, and lifted his finger to point at her.

Her toe hovered over the floor, swinging back and forth, silently teasing him with the power she held.

"Don't do it," he cautioned again. "Don't you dare touch that floor."

She smiled and her toe instantly made contact with the linoleum, simply because he'd told her no. Sam and Bobby did their best to stifle their laughter, but they both failed miserably.

McKenna reached a hand out to Sam, and against his better judgment, helped her up out of bed. She wobbled on her feet, and had to hold onto Sam for a moment, but was eventually able to stand on her own.

Like watching Bambi learn how to walk, the three men watched her make her way towards the bathroom, proudly pulling her IV stand with her. She looked over her shoulder at them, and smiled smugly as she took her jeans down from the hook on the back of the door.

McKenna then attempted to step into them, but she grew dizzy, lost her balance, and nearly fell forward. Sam and Dean instantly came running. One brother helped her stand, while the other pulled her jeans on and buttoned them for her.

Dean struggled with the button at her waist and Sam chuckled. "You having problems down there, Dean?"

"He's probably only used to taking a girl's pants off," Bobby laughed, wryly. "But he ain't too good at putting 'em on."

Dean glared over his shoulder at Bobby, and finally managed to finish his task. He straightened his back, and leaned closer to McKenna.

"You can't even dress yourself, Kenna," he said, tenderly. "How are you going to go out there and kill those demons?"

McKenna shrugged helplessly and hesitantly turned her back, allowing Sam to untie the strings of her hospital gown for her. When that was finished, she held the material to her chest and slipped into the bathroom without another word, locking the door behind her.

Dean turned to Sam and Bobby, lifting his arms in unbelief. So far, neither one of them had been able to find a way to reverse her illness. They had spent hours pouring over books, and surfing the internet. They had called Cas, and even made a quick pit stop at a crossroads.

Nothing had worked.

Dean dropped his head forward, pinched the bridge of his nose between his callused fingers, and let out a weary sigh.

"What the hell do we do now?"