After I got to Lanie's house, she lead me to her room. "Have you told your father about any of this?" I asked. "And bother him at work? No. He wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd just chuck me into therapy," She replied. "So what did your mother say?" I asked.

"She wanted to see me. So at first I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery," She replied.

"Did you?" I asked. Lanie nodded, "Nothing happened. But then she started asking me to do other things."

"What sort of things?" I asked with a frown. "Bad things," She answered with tears in her eyes and I looked at her in confusion, so she looked away from me, sniffing.

"Lanie please, tell me what happened, it's very important," I said softly. "Mom told me to go to Dad's medicine cabinet," She said.

"And?" I asked. "She wanted me to take his sleeping pills, take all of his sleeping pills," She said.

"She wanted you to kill yourself?" I asked in disbelief. Lanie covered her mouth with her hands, nodding, and she lowered her hands to her sides again, "Why would my Mom want me to do that?"

"I-I don't know," I said, shaking my head and looked around. "I mean, just so I could come to her?" Lanie asked. I looked back at her in confusion, "What'd you say?"

"She wanted me to come to her," She explained. "No, no, no, no, how'd she say it?" I asked. "'Come to me'. Like a million times," She replied. I shook my head, I finally knew what was going on, "Lanie, that's not your mother."

I led Lanie out of her room and into the hallway, "Listen to me. Don't answer the phone. Don't use the computer. Don't do anything unless I say to, all right?" I stopped at the stairs to head down and turned to Lanie to see she wasn't following.

I frowned, "Lanie?" I walked towards her to follow her gaze to her little brother's room. She looked at me worriedly, "Where's Simon?"

"Oh no," I muttered, turning around. I rushed downstairs with Lanie following me. We ran outside to see Simon walking right into the middle of traffic.

"Oh my God," Lanie gasped. A semi-truck was about to run him over, the driver tried to stop the truck in time and used his horn to get the kid away.

I ran into the street and grabbed Simon, pulling him away before the truck could hit him, and we fell to the ground. The semi-truck continued to drive away and I let out a sigh of relief.

I glanced at Simon to see he was shaking. "It's okay, kiddo, it's okay. Let's get back to your sister, okay?" He nodded and started to cry. I pulled him up with me and picked him up before walking towards Lanie. She cried in relief and took her little brother in her arms.

She hugged him tightly and looked at me, "Thank you." I nodded before walking away from them, heading towards the rental car to head off. I drive on the road and called Dean and he answered, "Yeah?"

"Dean, it's not Dad," I said. "Then what is it?" He asked. "A Crocotta," I answered. "Is that a sandwich?" He asked.

"Some kind of scavenger," I said, "Mimics loved ones, whispers 'Come to me', then lures you into the dark and swallows your soul."

"A Crocotta, right, damn that makes sense," Dean said. "Dean, look, I'm sorry man," I said, "I know -"

"Hey, don't these things live in filth?" He cut me off. "Yeah," I said. "Scarlett, the flies at the phone company," He realized. I realized as well that he was right and I hung up, driving faster to the phone company.

... ...

I got to the phone company after dark and walked toward the building through the back alley. I looked into one of the windows on the back door to see Stewie sitting at his desk. I looked around when I heard something clattering in the distance.

I shrugged it off and looked back inside to see Stewie walking out of the room. I waked around to the front to see him walking out of the building toward his car. I pulled out my phone and called Dean, only to get to his voice mail.

"This is Herman Munster. Leave a message."

I sighed, "Dean, I'm in the parking lot. He's here. You and Sam need to hurry up." I hung up and walked toward Stewie at his car. I pushed him face first into his car, holding a silver knife against the back of his neck.

"What the hell?" Stewie demanded. "I know what you are," I said. "Wait, Miss, please," He said. "And I know how to kill you," I said.

"Okay, wait, wait. If we're overcharging you for the call waiting or something I . . . I can fix that. I am your friend. Please. Please just don't kill me," He begged. I titled my head in confusion and realized he wasn't the Crocotta. He couldn't be.

"Don't kill me, please," He begged. All of a sudden, something hard hit me in the back of my head, making me let go of Stewie and fell to the ground, unconscious.

... ...

I slowly opened my eyes, finding myself tied to a chair with wires binding my wrists together behind the back of the chair behind me.

I looked over to see Stewie was restrained to the chair in front of me exactly the same way. He was whimpering, breathing heavily in fear, "I'm sorry, Clark. I'm sorry for whatever I did to you." I looked up to see Clark the Croctta walking closer toward him. "I'm sorry, please," Stewie cried.

I looked at Clark's hand to see he had a knife with him. "Wait! Don't do it," I said. He leaned closer to Stewie with the knife as he spoke to me, "You're awake."

"You're not a killer Clark, no! There's a good man inside of you, I know it," Stewie said. Clark looked at me, "What do you think, Scarlett, am I a good man?"

I tilted my head, "That depends on your definition of 'good'," I said sarcastically and he smirked. I narrowed my eyes, "Just let him go."

"I would. I really would. If only I'd had more than a salad for lunch. You see . . . I'm starving," He said and he raised the knife to Stewie.

"No!" I said. Clark plunged the knife into Stewie's heart, killing him immanently. I looked away as blood trailed out of Stewie's mouth and his head hung down low.

"Son of a . . ." I trailed off angrily, looking back up. Clark opened his mouth to reveal sharper fangs than a vampire, only these were in color of red. He turned Stewie's body to face him, holding him still by his shoulders and sucking his soul or essence out of his body. He swallowed it whole and stood up.

I looked at Clark in realization, "My last call with Dean. That was you. You led me here." He looked at me, "Some calls I make, some calls I take, but you have to admit, I had you fooled for a while. All that Edison phone crap." He backed away, chuckling, "Oh well."

He turned to an electrical box and placed his fingertips onto the glass. He tilted his head back as he closed his eyes in concentration. I frowned, "What are you doing?"

Clark turned his head towards me, "I'm killing your brothers. Or maybe I'm killing two other guy. We'll just have to see how it goes."

I struggled in the chair, angrily before glancing around as I felt the wires slowly starting to unwrap around my wrists. I looked back at Clark with a glare, knowing that he was tricking two guys into going to Sam and Dean to kill them, or Sam and Dean would kill them.

Clark walked over and pulled the knife out of Stewie's chest. "You know, mimicking Dean's one thing. But my Dad. That's a hell of a trick," I said.

"Well once I made you three as hunters, it was easy. I found Dean's number, then Sam's number, then your number, then your father's numbers. Then emails, voicemails, everything," He said. He crouched in front of me with the knife, using it to point at me while I continued to wind the wires from around my wrists without him noticing.

"You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'd be surprised how much of yourself is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked," He said.

"My brothers are not going to fall for this. They're not going to kill those guys," I said. "Then those guys kill them," He said and I glared at him.

He got up and paced around the room, "Technology . . ." He used the knife to pull a piece of my hair out of my face, "Makes life so much easier." He circled around me, "Used to be I'd hide in the woods for days, weeks, whispering to people, trying to draw them out into the night." He stopped in front of me, turning to face me, "But they had community, they all looked out for each other, I'd be lucky to eat one or two souls a year. Now when I'm hungry, I simply make a phone call. You're all so connected. But you've never been so alone."

Clark made his fangs grow, trying to stab me with the knife, but I got free of the wires and stood up instantly, tackling him to the floor. He dropped the knife and I reached to grab it. He grabbed the back of my shirt and got up, pushing me against the metal grating on the wall. He picked the knife up and ran toward me.

I caught his wrist before the knife touched my skin, and pushed him against the desk, trying to take the knife away from him. Clark punched me in the face, making me turn away. I caught myself against the other table before I could fell.

Clark stood and so did I, and turned to face him. I raised my hands, standing in fighting stance, "Bring it on, bitch." Clark tried to stab me but I raised my arm to block the move, turning him to face the wall behind me.

I tried to keep him from stabbing me, so I made him back away toward the silver, sharp rack behind him. I let go of one of his arms and pushed his head back onto one of the silver stems on the rack, making it pierce through his neck.

I breathed heavily as I watched blood dripping out of Clark's mouth, finally dying. I sighed in relief, wiping the blood away from my nose, and I looked back at Clark's body, "Dick."

... ...

I went back to the motel room to see my brothers were there, and they were mildly beaten up and sitting on the couch. I chuckled, "I see they improved your faces."

Sam chuckled, "Right back at ya." I tilted my head slightly and shrugged. "So, Crocotta, huh?" Dean asked. "Yep," I answered, sighing as I sat on one of the beds.

"That would explain the flies," Sam said, sighing. "Yeah it would," I agreed, "Hey, um . . . look I'm sorry it wasn't Dad." Dean chuckled, "I gave you guys a hell of a time on this one."

"Ahh," Sam said. "No, Scar, you were right," Dean told me. "Forget about it," Sam told him. "I can't," Dean said.

I sighed and got up. I walked toward them and sat on a chair in front of them, "Me too." They both looked at me and I shook my head, shrugging, "I wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this without losing you two, but something about this just didn't seem right to me, and I was right, and I wish to God that I wasn't. I mean, I'm - I'm staring down the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just . . ."

"Yeah," Sam said softly. I swallowed, thinking about when the three of us got to my head to get Jeremy who was controlling dreams, thinking about the evil me. I blinked my tears, "I'm scared, guys. I'm really scared."

"We know," Dean told me, "And hey, we're scared for you. I guess I was wiling to believe anything. You know, a desperate man trying to save his baby sister."

"There's nothing wrong with having hope, Dean," Sam told him. "Ah, hope doesn't get you jack squat," Dean said.

I sighed and hesitated, "I can't expect Dad to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anybody to, you know? I mean the only person that can get me out of this thing is me."

Sam looked at me for a moment, "And us." I hesitated, knowing that this was a way too serious moment, so I needed to do something to make it less serious, "'And us'?"

"What?" Sam asked. "Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that's what you come back with? 'And us'?" I asked.

Dean raised an eyebrow, "Do you want a poem?" He asked. "The moment's gone," I told them and turned on the TV. My brothers exchanged a look and smirked, knowing I wasn't being serious.

"You're unbelievable, Shorty," Dean said. I nodded, shrugging, "I know." I looked at them and smiled. Sam chuckled and Dean got us each a beer, handing one to me and the other to Sam. The three of us exchanged a look and smiled a small sad smile. We drink the beers and watched TV.