This chapter is probably the most important filler chapter ever.

PS I just looked at this new reader traffic thing, and did you guys know I had a reader from BANGLADESH?!

I'm not ever sure if I spelled that right, but I'm excited.

Fun fact: After seeing how Supernatural deals with vampires, I was playing with the idea of Carrie being another 'Special Child' so that I didn't have to worry about the difference in the legends. While her power was never decided on, the first sentence to the prologue I wrote was, "My mother did not die in a house fire on the night of my six-month birthday."

Other first sentenses, written under the impression that Carrie was a Slayer, included, "I'd never been a 'target' before," and, "To say I hated him would be... well, it just wouldn't be right." Eventually, I decided to not ever bother with a prologue.

I giggled across the seat at Dean, forcing Dean's brow to deepen into a harder scowl, "Shut up, Carden."

I ignored the fact that Dean called me Carden, out of slight pity, "It wouldn't be so funny if you didn't make such a big deal out of it."

"Carden, you freaking branded me," Dean responded, looking at me incredulously before turning back to the road.

I snorted, "It's a bit of lipstick on your cheek, Dean. It won't mark you as a leper."

"I don't get how this stuff doesn't come off," Dean replied stonily.

"It would come off, if you let me use some make-up remov-"

"No way," Dean cut off, "That stuff is for wusses."

"That stuff is to remove make-up," I responded, rolling my eyes at him as he navigated his way through Bucks County.

"Wuss make-up," Dean replied, like that made sense somehow, "Besides, this could all just be solved if you didn't wear make-up that's meant to get you through a war."

"Aren't we in a war," I responded cheekily, "You know, the one that started when you let an army of demons loose?"
"Make-up isn't meant for war," Dean didn't miss a beat, "It wastes valuable resources, and time."

"Time is a resource," I giggled as we pulled up to the street curb we'd left Sam at, only to find him standing there in a slight shock. Not noticing at all, I rolled down the window, "Hey, Sam, they kick you out already?"

"Huh," Sam questioned, staring intently at me through the opened car window. Well, someone got a little burnt out with his friends.

"Your friends," I supplied, "They left you standing out here on the curb."

Killing the engine, Dean stepped out of the car and headed to open the trunk as Sam responded, "Oh, no, they're at work, and I figured you guys would be by any minute. Didn't want to bother locking up."

Still keeping his eye on me, Sam followed his brother towards the trunk area, where I saw Sam whispering animatedly, and Dean rolling his eyes a lot. My brow furrowed as I tried to figure out what had Sam so... weird. Do I have gold in my cleavage, or something?

Before I could figure it out, Sam had slipped into the backseat and was grinning from ear to ear. Dean wordlessly slammed the trunk shut before rejoining us. "Hey, boy," Sam greeted Phantom cheerily. A little too cheerily, actually. No one should be happy to be sitting next to a dog.

Oh, shit, why is he sitting with my dog?! I realized the mistake all too late - Sam knew something was up, and Dean was already driving away, anyway. No stopping for a Chinese fire drill now.

Smiling cheekily into the mirror at me, Sam spoke, "So, Carrie, you're sitting in the front seat."

"I am," I muttered, rubbing my temples explicitly. I decided that I didn't want Sam to find out immediately. I wanted to break it to him slowly. Of course, I didn't talk to Dean about any of this, but I think it's safe to assume he doesn't care. Maybe getting the lipstick off his cheek should've been a bigger priority, too.

"Didn't you once tell me that you would never be able to sit in the front seat because Dean's unbearable man stench would eat you."

I snorted into my hand at the quote as Dean hazarded a glance at me, "Carden!"
"What? That's a great quote!" Besides, not like you can deny it.
"And Dean - sportin' the lipstick. I'm proud - takes all kinds to build a bridge, you know." Sam laughed as Dean scowled.

"Shut up, man. Damn stuff never comes off."
"It would come off i-"

"I'm not using make-up remover," Dean responded automatically, looking around, "God, is there anywhere to get a Philly cheese steak around here?"

"Um, try in Philly," I offered, hoping that if I was a smart Alec, Sam would just think Dean started... wearing deodorant, or his man stench wasn't hungry, or whatever.

"Nah, they've got to have someplace around here. Philly isn't too far from here, right? God, I could for a beer, too. How does that sound, guys? A nice cold beer served up by a hot waitress."

"I'm not hungry," Sam responded, almost automatically, his arm shooting up to cover his stomach.

"Well, I'm not either, so I think we can outvote Dean's proposal to eat," I offered. If I side with Sam, this will all go away, right? Especially if Sam notes that I'm not jealous about that waitress comment. I flipped out at him for being an unfaithful piece of shit. At least, not yet.

Sam smirked as he sat across from Dean in the greasy, smelly bar that claimed to have the best Philly cheese steaks around. Dean, unaffected by Sam's excitement, unabashedly watched his obviously-girlfriend walk to the bathroom, licking bread crumbs from his lip.

"So, Dean, you and Carrie," Sam started, arching a carefully eyebrow at Dean.

Dean glanced at Sam for a minute before realizing what his little brother was talking about, "No, we didn't. Do you honestly think I'm that stupid?"

"Yes, yes I do," Sam replied in mostly-mock-honesty before smirking again at his brother, "You like her?"

Dean paused in his chewing, swallowing a large chunk of steak before nodding, "Yeah, dude, I like her a lot."

Sam nodded, like he knew exactly what Dean meant, despite the fact that his description of his feelings were desperately lacking, "So, did you tell her yet?"

"Tell her about what," Dean asked, his line of sight falling back to his cheese steak happily, like he wasn't going to die in just over six weeks.

"Tell her about your deal," Sam replied quietly, glancing around for any possible demon that might have found them. Dean, instead, visibly deflated, his scowl returning with a vengeance.

"No, man, and I'm not going to. She doesn't need to know."

"Dean, she's not going to leave until after you... will supposedly die."

"I told you to give it up, Sammy," Dean responded harshly, the conversation quickly steering away from Dean's newest attempt at a normal relationship, "I'm going to die. I don't want to, but it's just how it has to be. I knew what I was doing when I sold my soul away. I shouldn't even be alive, anyway."

Dean grumbled the last part, but Sam didn't need to hear it. He knew what was going on in his brother's head, "But Dean, she can help us! She can save you; she has access to knowledge we probably can't even dream about."

Dean's face hardened as he thought about what Carden had said last night, his mind automatically tuning out Sam's insistence,"And then he started talking about 'they' and said that we had to try and make each other stronger and that I had to save you if I wanted to save the world."

Dean grit his teeth - why did everyone think they had to save him? He'd made his choice - knowing Sammy was alive was more important to him than his own life. He didn't have much of a future, anyway. If he ever went back into mainstream society, he'd have to change his name at least. And then find a career, and deal with other things he just couldn't see himself getting excited about.

"Dean, are you even listening? This is your life on the line," Sam cut into Dean's thoughts, and Dean just continued to scowl into his sandwich, opting instead for a sip of beer.

"I don't care who Carden knows or how strong she is - we aren't pursuing this anymore. We're just going to smoke all the suckers we can until then, hmm?"

"Dean, whatever happened to all that stuff you said, about going down swinging? About fighting 'til the very end?"
"We are fighting, Sammy," Dean felt like screaming back, but settled for pounding his fist against the table, "But we aren't fighting this guy. We fight this guy, and we'll get you killed. It's not worth it, Sammy."

Carden paused at the edge of the table, "It's not worth what, guys?"

Dean glanced back up at Carden, at his girlfriend. She scooted in next to him, picking up his arm and wrapping it around her shoulders in an attempt to find comfort. Sam sighed from across them, "Nothing."

"Damn straight, Sammy," Dean replied, glaring at his younger brother before returning to his beer.

"Guys," Carden began, an edgy whine in her voice.

"Don't, Carden. Just leave it. Old Winchester business. It doesn't concern you; it doesn't concern anyone."

"Dean," Carden replied, her brow furrowing up at him, "What do you mean it doesn't concern anyone? It obviously concerns something."

"Ca-"

"Why won't you tell me," she cut him off, her brow furrowing in an obvious distrust. Not distrust in him, necessarily, but distrust in what he was saying. She found it hard to believe that all of this pounding the table and angry glaring was about something that wasn't important. She scoffed at Dean's determined silence, standing and throwing his arm at his side, "Whatever, Dean, I'm going to go walk Tommy and make sure he has enough water."

With that, Carden, stormed away from the table, obviously angry in the worst way. Dean knew this wouldn't break them - she'd been angrier before, specifically when he'd made the crack about Landon and her watcher. But still, it hurt him a little to see her so angry with him, especially when he was so angry at Sam, and obviously at himself.

"Well, thanks a lot, Sam," Dean finally chose to say, tearing a savage bit from the remaining half of his cheese steak.

Sam shrugged, feigning innocence, "Well, maybe you should tel-"

"Sam," Dean replied in the sharp, warning tone that he always imagined a mother would use with her children.

Whoever would use it wear, it worked, and Sam continued to pick at his fries silently, his jaw tightened with words he obviously wanted to say, but thought better of.

I snorted as I stormed out into the bright parking lot, afternoon sun bearing down on me like a horrible weight. Inside the Impala, I could make out Phantom's silhouette, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he watched people walk in and out of the restaurant.

Throwing open the back door, which Dean always left open for me, I threw myself into the backseat, my arms lacing around Phantom's neck easily. Unperturbed, Phantom continued to sit and pant, not even bothering the shift his weight in any way.

I wasn't crying, but I could feel myself start to sniff an awfully lot, and finally pulled away from my dog to look at him, his black and brown face staring blankly back at me. It seemed wrong, to already be fighting with Dean so fast, but god damn it, he can't even trust me with something that is apparently so inconsequential?

I mean, that had to have been an obvious lie. And, well, I can't force him to tell me, but to lie to me so blatantly like that? It's just... it's disrespectful; it's downright insulting. Does he really think I can't tell when he's angry? He's not even good at hiding it!

"Whatever," I mumbled to myself, finally closing the car door and glancing down at Phantom's water dish, to make sure it was still full. I had half a mind to go back in there and order one more of everything on the menu, to hand out to homeless people, or whatever, just to make Dean pay, but I knew in the end Sam would cover it. Not that either of them ever really earned money.