Disclaimer: I do not own the concept or characters from the show "Supernatural." Any other characters not related to the show or the Nightwold series, however, are mine and are not to be used in any other fan fictions. Some concepts were also borrowed or loosely adapted from L.J. Smith's "Nightworld" and "The Vampire Diaries" series. This chapter has information on the episodes up until 02/05/09. I will not include any spoilers for future episodes of Season 4 until they are released on TV. This is the start of a new trilogy. The first trilogy is: "Possession," "Broken," and "Sacrifice." This story takes place a little over ten years in the future after the events of "Sacrifice," and has the same characters from the first trilogy. I do not own any quotes used in the actual episodes.

April rushed into the house, swiflty closing the door behind her as the car sped off into the distance. Her mind was trying to digest the information she had just received about the nightmares that had been plaguing her for a long time. In a odd way, she hadn't been dreaming, but communicating withsomeone. She felt somewhat violated by the nightly intrusion, knowing full-well that someone had been tampering with her thoughts. But why in the hell would Jesse do those things to her in her sleep?

"Hey kiddo," her dad's voice interrupted. "How was your date?" He playfully winked at her.

"Dad," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm fine. See, I'm not dead" She spun around with her arms out to her sides. "Now, you should go catch some Zs. Hey, where's Mom?"

"Out hunting…for grub. Hey, what happened to your jacket," Dean asked, rolling over to her to inspect it.

'Crap,' she thought. She had changed into something other than her blood soaked shirt at the hotel, but had forgotten about the jacket. It had been unzipped and open during the stabbing, but she knows some damage must have been done to it. Plus, after being dragged like a rag doll through the woods, there were probably tons of dried mud caked to the back. Fudge.

"Oh, I must've caught it on something," she said, trying to pull away, keeping her back to the wall. Her vision glanced at the mirror on the wall to her left. Crap. Her hair was a mess, leaves tangled in her dark locks. Add that to the the small tears in the fabric and the mud being reflected on the back of her jacket and it looked like she had been doing something lyin' down on the ground.

'Sweet merciful crap.'

"So," Dean cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest, his face turning red. "What's with the mud?"

'Crap. Crap. Crap.'

"I slipped when we were on a walk."

"I thought you were goin' to a movie?"

"We did."

"What did you see?"

"Oh, some crappy remark of a horror classic. You know how those are. It was like the third remake of Friday the 13th."

'Good lie.'

"So, you went for a walk before or after the movie? Because, all I know is, it was a late movie and then you were gonna come home?"

"We went afterward," she sighed. After all, how the hell was she gonna be able to explain sitting with mud all over her ass through a full-length film? She figured, she'd rather get into trouble for breaking curfew than hunting anyways. It wasn't that she wasn't allowed to hunt. Oh no. She could, but the rule was, only with a family member. That list included Mom, Uncle Sam, Uncle Bobby, Aunt Jo, Aunt Gwen, Aunt Lenore, and Aunt Ruby. That was a big list. Instead, she went against the order to help a friend. Although, friend seemed like such a cheap word.

A betraying smile crept across her lips.

"Hello? Earth to April? Am I talkin' to my frickin' self here?"

"Oh, sorry, Dad," she blushed. "Listen, I'm real tired, and I need to get to bed…"

"Wait."

Uh oh. She knew that tone in his voice. When Dean wanted to say something, you better believe you were gonna get an ear full.

She apprehensively turned towards her father again and noticed the look on his face. He was flushed, his face beat red, as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Dad, are you ok," she questioned, kneeling down beside his chair. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," he said, not looking into her eyes. "It's just…"

"Yeah?"

"I knew a couple of girls who I 'dated' in high school who ended up with their clothes dirty too, April. That 'oops I just slipped' excuse doesn't work with me."

Her throat dropped to her stomach. 'Oh god, 'she thought, 'please, please not 'the talk.'

"Oh, Dad," she nervously chuckled, "You don't have to worry about-"

"I'm your dad, so it's my job to worry," he smirked, taking her hand in his. "Look, you're a big girl and I'm not gonna tell you what to do, ok?"

"Ok," she said, trying not to be weirded out by what he was probably going to say.

"All I'm gonna say is be careful - "

"Dad, I haven't done -"

"I don't care if you have or not," his eyes clearly showing that he thought she did. After all, her current disheveled appearance pointed to some sort of rolling around. "And I'm not gonna go on and on about being safe that way. You're a smart girl, and they've been explaining that crap to you in school since sixth grade. I just- when I was in high school, I had a lot of girlfriends. You know, just like flings. Didn't give a damn about most of them. And, I know they probably felt like crap later on. But, I didn't care…or tried not to. Look, there have only been a few girls in my life I truly cared about, and only one I fell for completely. I happen to be married to her."

He smiled at his daughter, but the sparkle he used to have in his eye whenever he spoke about his wife was absent. It twisted April's stomach.

"Anyways, what I'm tryin' to get out is - don't date a guy like me, April. Don't date someone who doesn't give a damn about you, ok? That's what I was, and I'll be damned if you get treated that way."

"Daddy, I can handle myself," she reassured, squeezing his hand.

"I have no doubt that you can, kid," he patted her back and kissed her cheek. "You should probably get upstairs to bed. It's late."

"Alright, Daddy," she said, stretching with a yawn as she stood up to make her way to her bedroom. As she reached the foot of the stairs, she pivoted around at the wooden banister. "Are you going to bed soon too?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "I'm gonna wait up for your Mom for a little while first."


She had strenuously raced through a few sets of woods, finally seeing a clearing witha house, and let out a relieved sigh. Abby was glad she had checked a satellite map of the area on Google before she set out. Sure, she knew the way to drive there, but Dean thought she was hunting. It wasn't really a lie; she had taken down a coyote on the way. But she had to go on foot to make it less suspicious.

Her body tensed as she effortlessly sprinted through the trees, the single, tall trunks becoming one as she blurred on by.

The clearing became closer and closer, until she was standing on a well manicured lawn, only a few steps from a driveway. The cars were parked neatly beside each other.

Good, they were home.

Abby didn't want to be rude and just knock on the door after midnight but she needed someone to talk to. Someone who could provide a little soul-searching insight.

She fished through the pockets of her jeans for her cellphone and found his number in the contacts.

Her vampire hearing could pick up on his own phone vibrating in the house.

"Hello," his sleepy voice answered.

"Cas, it's Abby."

"Hello, Abigail." She heard him shuffle in bed and it was quite obvious that she had disturbed his slumber.

"I - I need to talk to someone and I would talk to Sam but he's kinda involved in all this. I - I just need some kinda spiritual advice, and you're the best person for that," she chuckled, trying to hold back her tears. She noticed she'd been doing that a lot recently.

"To be quite honest, I'm not sure I'm the best person for that job," he warmly chortled.

"Please, Castiel. I'm begging you."

"No need to beg. I'll be right down."


April slipped into her nightgown and closed her grandma's journal on her desk.

She looked down at the symbol she had copied from the book with a marker on her hand.

It matched perfectly. She just hoped it worked.

She slipped into her bed, drawing the covers up around herself. Her eyes slid closed and she didn't ready herself for sleep, but for a confrontation.