Sitting on the floor in the bathroom with a flashlight, I read my notes over and over, my stomach eating at me. It was the same thing when we talked to the Lithuanian-American group in Indiana and then when we talked to the leader of the group in Chicago, Illinois earlier today. Gabriele Dievas gets accepted as a volunteer at the Lithuanian-American school as an expert of historical culture and history. She stays and teaches. Unlike at the Wisconsin group, though, she quit both in Indianapolis and in Chicago. In Indianapolis, she quit after Grazyna went missing, while in Chicago, she quit before the school fire. She must have learned something from what had happened in Wisconsin, then. Her time in Indianapolis and in Chicago overlapped, which meant she was preparing for moving on from Indianapolis before she actually left.

I rubbed my forehead with the back of my hand and read the notes again, and again, my ankle twisting in anxiety. I glanced from my notes to the map of the U.S. that I had pulled up on Sam's laptop, the screen glowing dimly in the dark bathroom. She wasn't even moving in a straight line. She'd skipped over Illinois completely and then gone back. There was no way to know where she was going to go next. The Lithuanian-American community website had chapters and schools and classes all over the U.S. Would she go to Ohio next? Missouri? Maybe Michigan?

Guilt was eating at me. The girls were missing and their parents were frantic. Grazyna was dead, and it was my fault. I had to figure out where Gabby was and what she was up to before things got worse. We'd been traveling after her for days now. We were well into the first week of December. She may have already infiltrated some other school and have her eye on some other girl, who was going to end up missing or dead. The thing that made my stomach hurt so bad though was that I'd been in Gabby's hands before and they weren't gentle, and she'd looked so mad in every picture I saw her in, any flames near her snapping or jumping.

I didn't think there was any chance that Audra and Daina weren't dead. I didn't think Gabby would have kept searching if she found what she was looking for, and she was leaving a trail of little worshipers behind her, who found the whole idea of a ritual to call a blessing down just so very quaint and interesting. I pulled Sam's laptop close to me and started typing in my search terms, one after the other. This entire thing was my fault because I'd accidentally sacrificed Jack Montgomery and loosed Gabby on the earth, not to mention going to her to help her to begin with. The only way to atone was to stop Gabby before she wreaked more havoc and send her to where ever dead goddesses go.

Someone knocked softly on the bathroom door, interrupting my thoughts. Startled, I jumped, stifling a squeak and having to grab the laptop to keep it from being knocked backwards across the floor. "Jessie?" Sam asked quietly through the door. "What are you doing in there?"

I scrambled to my feet and unlocked the bathroom door. I opened it only a little bit and looked out at him, hoping to keep what I was doing a secret. "Just using the bathroom," I said softly. "I'll be out in a minute."

Sam made an amused scoffing noise. "I can see the laptop glow and the flashlight behind you, squirt."

I slumped a little in defeat and swung the bathroom door open. I had three notebooks, a leather-bound book on pagan gods (which had NOTHING about Gabby, by the way, much to my disappointment), and the laptop spread out over the floor. Next to my notebooks was a stack of highlighters, two pens, and a pencil. Sam took it all in in a slow gaze. "If only you were this diligent with your schoolwork," he commented, stepping into the room. I stepped back to let him by.

"No one is going to die if I don't do my schoolwork," I said. We were both keeping our voices down so that we didn't wake Dean. Dean hadn't been sleeping more than a couple hours a night lately, and neither of us wanted to disturb what little sleep he was getting.

Sam grunted in acknowledgment and picked up the laptop. He clicked through my browser history before turning to me. "You're supposed to be in bed asleep, young lady," he said, frowning. "Not trying to find Gabby. You're lucky I'm the one who found you and not Dean."

I flushed and didn't say anything, digging my socked toe into the terrazzo floor of the bathroom and dropping my eyes to the sink. Two nights ago, on our way from Indiana to Illinois, I was supposed to be sleeping in the backseat. Instead, I'd pulled out a tiny flashlight and studied my notes on the floor of the Impala. Dean had caught me and made me come up in the front seat to sleep where I couldn't 'sneak around'. Sam had taken my spot in the backseat. Once I'd settled myself in the front, Dean had threatened to spank me the next time he caught me researching when I was supposed to be sleeping. That's why I'd gone to hide in the bathroom this time.

"Get this stuff picked up and put away and then get back into bed," Sam said.

I dragged my eyes up from the sink. "Are you going to tell Dean?" I asked tentatively.

"What do you think?" he replied. "Go on." He gestured with his chin towards my stuff.

"Guess I'm not so lucky then," I muttered, crouching to pick up my notebooks.

"Excuse me?" Sam asked, his voice surprised and a little annoyed.

"Nothing," I said sulkily. I hoped he would just let it go, but he didn't.

"That's what I thought," Sam said. "You need to watch your attitude, Jessie. Being smart with me isn't going to get you anything good."

"Thought you wanted me to be smart," I snapped, scooping up my pens and markers, "that's why you make me do all that schoolwork."

Sam grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my crouch. He turned me around and landed ten hard smacks on my flannel-covered butt. "Lose the attitude, young lady," he snapped at me, letting me go. Clutching my notebooks to my chest with one arm, I rubbed my butt with my free hand and glared at him from under my bangs. "You want ten more without the covering?" Sam asked, looking down at me. I dropped my eyes and shook my head. "Then get this stuff cleaned up and get in bed. And you better hope we didn't just wake Dean up." Sam took the laptop and left the bathroom.

Guilt flooded me, and I hurried to pick up the rest of my stuff, hoping that my smart mouth hadn't just cost Dean some much needed sleep, but when I came out of the bathroom, Dean was still a lump under his blankets. I set my notebooks down on my bed and pulled my backpack out from under it. I stuffed the flashlight, notebooks, and pens into the backpack as quietly as I could. I went to stick the book on pagan gods into the backpack, too, but Sam picked it up from my bed before I had a chance.

"Did you ask me if you could read this?" he whispered, his jaw tight.

I shook my head, not trusting my voice and not wanting to get into more trouble.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow, then," he said. He reached down and pulled my covers back, pulling out the pillows I tucked under the blanket to make it look like I was still in bed. He shook his head and looked at me, but didn't say anything. I climbed into bed, and he pulled the blankets up to my chin. He kissed me. "Good night, Jessie. Do not leave this bed again until morning." His voice was stern.

"Yes, Sam," I whispered, already trying to figure out how I could continue my research without getting out of bed, but Sam picked up my backpack and carried it with him to his bed. He put it on the bed right next to him and laid down. I sighed and closed my eyes. My stomach was still aching with guilt. I don't know how I managed to go to sleep but I did.

Dean woke me up the next morning. "What'd I tell you about researching when you're supposed to be asleep?" he demanded the second I opened my eyes. His arms were crossed over his chest.

I blinked rapidly, my dreams of fire and freedom fading from my mind as I tried to figure out what he was talking about. "What?" I asked, my voice hoarse. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Dean's upside down watch said it was 7:30. The events of the previous night trickled back to me, along with the guilt. I was nauseated with exhaustion and angst. "Um, not to?"

"Yeah," he said. "And what did I say I would do if I caught you doing it again?"

I squinched my eyes shut and then opened them again. It was way too early for this. "You'd spank me?" I asked, my stomach plummeting in dread.

"Yup," he said. He reached down and pulled the blankets off me. I scrambled away from him until my back was pressed against the wall.

"You didn't catch me," I objected, grasping at straws. "Sam did."

Dean sat down on the bed, reached over, and pulled me over his lap. "You think it matters which one of us caught you?"

"But that's not what you said," I cried as he yanked down my pajama bottoms.

"You want to have a discussion about technicalities while you're over my lap?" he growled. His hand fell, and I yowled.

"No!" I cried out as his hand fell over and over. "No, Dean!"

"You sure?" he asked, not stopping in his onslaught.

I shrieked. "Yes! I'm sure," I cried, kicking in pain.

He paused. "We'd be done now if you hadn't lied about it," he said.

"What?" I asked, going still, my heart practically stopping. "I didn't lie about anything!"

"You didn't put pillows in the bed so we'd think you were still sleeping?" Dean asked me, his voice dark. "You didn't hide in the bathroom so we wouldn't know you were up?"

"What was I supposed to do?" I wailed. I clutched the blankets to me and buried my face in them, my voice muffled as I said, "You'd've figured it out if I'd turned on all the lights and sat at the desk!"

"You were supposed to go to bed and stay in bed. You were not supposed to get up and do research in the middle of the night! You were supposed to obey me." Dean's hand fell again, over and over, and I shrieked. "Is that clear now?" he asked me.

"Yes! Yes! It's clear!" I wailed. He finally stopped, pulling me up to sit on his lap and surrounding me in his arms. I felt safe and clear-headed for the first time in a few days.

"Good. The next time we have to have this talk, it's going to be with the hairbrush. Do you understand me, little girl?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yes, Dean," I said quietly.

He rested his chin on my head and then dropped a kiss there as he held me to him. "You need your sleep, sweetheart."

My stomach roiled with guilt. "I can't sleep," I whispered. "Those girls are probably dead and it's my fault. I let her loose on the world. I said no and now she's going after new girls. It's my fault!" I started crying. Dean held me to him and rubbed my back. "The only way to atone is to find her and stop her. I can't sleep. There's no time. She may already have another one!" I was shaking with emotion, my voice getting higher and louder.

"Shh, sweetheart," Dean crooned. "It's ok. It's not all your fault. You're twelve years old. She manipulated and used you. She killed your parents. She gave you these abilities. She's the one at fault for all of it."

"But if I hadn't…" I said.

"Jessie, we're looking for her. We'll find her. We'll stop her, but it's not your fault. It's not. She would have found some other way to accomplish her goals with or without you. This isn't on you. It's on her. You got me?" Dean tilted my chin up so that I was looking into his eyes and I knew he meant it. I wrapped my arms around his neck and held him as tightly as I could while I cried myself out.