Sooo, it occurs to me, that as of the time of this writing, I should maybe let you all know I haven't seen a new episode of SPN in about a year. I am a HUGE fan of the show, but what happened after season 5 just sort of...hurt me. I kind of staggered through season six, and I've heard snippets of season 7, but other than that, I have zero idea of what's going on. HOWEVER, the episodes are now up on Hulu and Netflix, and I have a few friends (avid fans who quit around the same time I did) swearing up and down that the show is in recoup mode, so I think I'm going to give it a try once I have some time.

THAT MEANS, you can all expect more frequent posts, I hope, especially this summer (TEN MORE DAYS!). I'll need to rewatch S6 with a new vigor, I think, since most of the time, I was doing something else to get through the newer episodes. [heavysigh]

Anyway, wish me luck! Thanks for reading, as always, and reviews are much appreciated!

Heartsicles,

CA

It was dawn when Bobby finally called. His hand had gone instinctively to his pocket when he heard the ring, and his sluggish mind had been a long moment in realizing the ring wasn't his. It was another minute before he unearthed Lily's vibrating phone from the pile of coffee cups in the backseat. He wondered how long it had been there, buried and unheeded.

The story of the last week had been fragmented. Lily had thrown up most of the caffeine, but anxiety made her fidgety and sparked vicious mood swings. Between bouts of grief and anger, and over a forced—though quick—iHop breakfast, he'd learned that he and his siblings had been separated since leaving Missouri's house over a week ago.

"Last I remember, we were in the Impala, you and I," he said, watching her over her untouched plate of eggs and bacon. "Sam was in the house with Missouri. We were driving somewhere, maybe five minutes out, we hit a fork in the road, then—"

Lily shook her head helplessly, staring down at her cold food. Despite her earlier promise, she'd asked for another cup of coffee when they reached the diner, and for a half second, Dean was tempted to give in. She hadn't slept, as it turned out, in almost eight days, and if adrenaline and caffeine were the only things keeping her going, she'd just lost half her advantage. She'd nearly passed out in the car there next to him, all curled up in the front seat, and as much as he wanted her to sleep, he was afraid she'd get sick again if she didn't eat something.

"I don't remember, either," she'd said, fiddling idly with her fork. "I remember we were in the car. I remember falling asleep. Then I woke up a week ago, and you, and Missouri, and—everything. Everything was gone."

She took a deep breath here, as if bracing herself against a physical pain. Dean fought the sudden nausea. This is good, he told himself for the thousandth time. We can't go anywhere 'til we know where we're going. This is good for all of us. This has to happen.

"At first, I thought you'd stopped the car and gone for a walk," Lily started again. "So, I waited. An hour. Two. Three. When it started getting dark, I tried calling you. I figured you wouldn't leave me, alone, asleep, unarmed in the middle of nowhere, so, you know, I started thinking maybe something had happened to you."

She laughed suddenly. It was a sad sound, empty and cold, and she wouldn't look at him, but she laughed.

"Did you know yours was the first phone number I ever memorized? It was a big deal, too. When I was in kindergarten, they told us we all had to memorize our home numbers, and 911, in case of emergencies. 911, I had, of course. But I always had trouble with the house number. I mean, I was four years old. How was I supposed to remember a new motel number every week, even without room extensions and all that? And Dad's number changed every time he got a new job. Sam didn't have a phone yet. But you—you had a phone. One phone. And Dad had always told me, 'If anything happens, Lily, you find your big brothers. That's it.' I knew he knew more about real trouble than kindergarten teachers, even at four. So I memorized yours." She looked up at him suddenly, insistent, desperate. "Do you see what I'm saying, Dean? I memorized your number when I was four. It was the first thing I ever really knew. I've known your phone number since I was four. Sixteen years. Three quarters of my life. And—" She broke off, shaking again. "We don't have time for this. We need to go. We need to—"

"You need to eat." He wanted to go, of course. Wanted it so bad it hurt. But he couldn't risk heading out on a wild goose chase when Lily was only 20% coherent as it were. "Breathe. We're okay."

Lily gazed at him with a combination of frustration and apprehension, but took a shaky breath and started anew. "I…I called you. I sat in the car, and I dialed the number I've been dialing for practically my whole life. I don't even have to look at the numbers, don't even have to think, my fingers just know. I dialed, and got," she took another quavering breath, "'this number cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again.'"

The perfectness with which Lily matched the recorded voice sent a shiver up his spine. How many times had she heard the message? How many times had she tried to call him? How many times had he not answered? The guilt in his stomach felt solid as stone.

"So, I dialed again. I mean, I was tired, and anxious—maybe I'd made a mistake, you know? It happens. Even with habit. I tried it again…and same thing. So, the third time I was careful. The fourth time I panicked, and fifth time, I was just…angry. Messing up almost on purpose. I waited ten minutes and tried again. And again. And again."

She laughed, but this time with an almost-hysterical edge. He was about to interrupt, but she got a hold of herself, and started again. "You'd think they'd change the message the fifteenth time around. Track the number, figure it was the same person, give them something other than the same. It starts to get patronizing, you know? But they don't. It's just the same thing, ten, twenty, thirty times in a row. 'This call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up and try again.'

"Then I thought maybe something was wrong with your phone. No reception, or out of range, or minutes, or something. I tried Sammy. Got the same message. I was there making the same stupid calls for two hours, two whole hours, before I realized it was my phone. I was the one out of range. I was the one who was wrong.

"It was almost a relief at first. I mean, I was still worried something had happened to you, but at least I knew you weren't beyond reaching. I called Missouri. I figured, if nothing else, she'd let me talk to Sam. But that wouldn't work, because I wouldn't be able to reach her, because my phone was acting up.

"But it wasn't. She answered. Said she hadn't seen any of us since we'd up and left the night before. Even yelled at me for being so rude about it.

"Then she asked if something was wrong. Said she'd felt something—a…disturbance, like she knew—but thought it was just Sammy or me leaving."

Her voice broke again, and when Lily picked up her fork, Dean could see the tremors. But she forced herself to take a deep breath, and a sip of water, and the tremors went still again. Or stiller.

Good girl, Dean tried to say, before finding he couldn't speak. Lily went on for him.

"I started driving. I just…I panicked. I hate driving that car. You know that. I wouldn't have, if I didn't—I just thought—maybe, if I could find you—"

"It's okay, Lily. It's okay." That was all he could get out. The situation was growing beyond his control. It was true—Lily hated the Impala. Wouldn't drive it if you paid her. In fact the only reason she would even get behind the wheel was if—

"I was at it for hours, I guess. I'd…I'd woken up at a crossroads—" She broke off again here, but it wasn't like the last few times. This wasn't an emotional break. This was secretive. This was 'oops-I-said-something-I-shouldn't-have'. This was suspicious. What else could she have to hide? But Dean let it slide. Right now, finding Sammy was the most important thing. He would worry about Lily's secrets later. "I…I mean…I took all four routes as far as they would go." She pointed at the bruises on her face, standing out against the pallid tones in her skin. "I nearly wrecked the car before I realized I was searching for the hay in a needlestack. Or…the other way around. I don't know."

"Lily," he said as calmly as he could, trying not to think about his mangled sister OR his totaled car. "Why didn't you call—"

"Bobby? I did. After I nearly killed myself, I got smart. I pulled over, and I called Bobby. I told him I'd blacked out almost two days ago, and lost nearly the whole time. Couldn't remember anything. Didn't know where you two were.

"He tracked my GPS to some little town in Mississippi. Rosedale, or something. Some famous blues musician used to live there, Sammy would know him. Said I should come up and he'd help me find you.

"I was going. I was on my way. I really was. But then…it started raining somewhere over Kansas. I tried to turn on the windshield wipers, but I got the fog lights instead. The guy in front of me thought I was flashing them at him, and he honked at me, and…I lost it."

Dean was feeling lost himself. Lily still hadn't touched her food, still hadn't stopped shaking, wasn't even halfway through her story, and—what? He was sitting here in a middle-of-nowhere iHop. His sister was a nervous wreck, his brother was missing, kidnapped by the demon that had killed his father, and he didn't even know where to begin piecing his family back together.

Across from him, Lily shuddered and went green, folding her arms carefully over her stomach. She'd been doing it now every twenty minutes for an hour. He had his answer. It was strangely soothing, knowing where to put his hands. Here. This was where he needed to start.

"Finish your water," he said. "Finish your water, and eat a piece of bacon, Lily."

"Please, Dean, I'm not hungry. Can't we just—"

"No. You have too much caffeine and not enough anything else in your system. If you have another of those attacks again, I'm going to take you to the hospital, and that's more time we don't have. Please, Lil. You look like hell. Just one slice of bacon. For me."

She couldn't hold his eyes for more than a second, but she finished dutifully, first the water, then, a little slower, the bacon. She gagged on the first bite, but by the end of the third, she was looking less flushed and her hands had stopped shaking.

"I was sitting there on the side of the road, watching the sun come up, realizing it meant you guys had been gone for two days," she started again, her voice stronger. "And I broke. I drove to a library, and started researching. I just—" she shrugged helplessly. "Every hunt I could find between Missouri's place and Missippi." Now she did look up, almost smiling. "You'd have been proud, Dean. I hit three places that first day. Five on the second. Bobby was calling by the third, but…" she trailed off.

"Four poltergeists in three different states. Another wendigo. A shapeshifter, and two werewolves. All by myself." She sounded almost proud. Dean just felt sick, but he held his tongue. "I thought maybe you'd gone for a hunt, and something had gone wrong. You and Sammy. If I could just find the hunt, get through to you, I could do it. I could find you, and everything would be okay again.

"It wasn't 'til about two days ago when Bobby must have realized what I was doing. He sent me a text. Just one. I've got it memorized by now, I could say it in my sleep: Text from Dean's phone. Djinn in Joliet, Illinois."

She looked at him hopefully, but he could say nothing. He didn't remember the last week, let alone sending a text. As far as he knew, his phone had been out of commission for days. Her eyes watched him for a second longer, then dimmed with recognition.

"I called him back. He was angry—" She laughed, then, really laughed, and for just a second, Dean felt better, "—he's going to kill me next time we see him. I called him back, and he said he'd tried your number, but just gotten a dial tone. Still. It was better than—" She didn't repeat the message. Couldn't.

"He wanted me to wait for him. Said I couldn't handle the djinn by myself. I told him I'd wait, and then I started driving. I've been looking for that thing for two days, then tonight, I caught a break. I found you there, and…I guess you know the rest."

Dean was quiet for a long minute while Lily waited anxiously, picking at her food. At least she was kind of eating, never mind the fact that she looked almost too tired to chew. He needed to get something besides caffeine in her. He needed her to not throw it up in half an hour. He needed to take the Impala and find his little brother and make sure his baby sister got some sleep. Because if something happened to Sammy, something she could have prevented, or even thought she could have prevented, she would never—

Sammy, he told himself. Think of Sammy.

He looked at Lily, at the handful of bruises thrown over her face, at her unkempt hair and pallid skin, at the way her freckles stood out in the stark light overhead. She needed sleep, and he needed Sammy. He needed to be the strong one. That was his job, wasn't it?

And a great job, too. Lily's a wreck, and Sammy—Sammy…

"Lily." He spoke her name too sharply in an effort to interrupt his own thoughts, but it got her attention. "This is what we're gonna do, okay? We're going to find him. We're gonna find Sammy, and he's gonna be fine. We're gonna go to Bobby's, and we're gonna track down Sam the same way you found me. Both of us, this time. We'll find him that much faster. But first I need you to relax, and finish your breakfast, and tell me everything you know about where Sam could be. Even if it doesn't seem important. I need to know everything, and then I need you to sleep."

She was shaking her head before he finished. "I can't," she said firmly, sounding more like herself than she had all night. "I have to help you look."

"For what, Bobby's house? That's where we're going, Lil, and you know I can get there with my eyes closed. So take ten minutes, that's it. Eat what you can, and then we'll go to Bobby's and get everything else sorted out."

"But— "

"Do you wanna hear what the djinn showed me?" He cut her off before she could speak again. "You were a ballet instructor."

That seemed to put her in her place. "I was what?"

Her story finished, and at least one brother alive and well, caffeine and adrenaline dropped Lily like a brick. She'd been asleep before he was even halfway through his own story of what the djinn had given him. He'd paid for the meal and carried her to the car—he started to lay her in the back, then changed his mind—and she didn't stir once. And now Bobby was calling—for the millionth time, if her phone history was anything to go by. Dean picked up her phone, glanced at her sister, decided she wouldn't be woken by a tornado outside the window, and answered with a whisper.

"Hello?"

Bobby's answer was so loud, Dean jumped and nearly hurled the phone out the window before settling on holding it arm's length from his ear. Even so, he could hear every word clearly.

"—got a lot of nerve, 'hello', after what you put me through. Ignore my calls for days, shut off yer GPS, you think I can't find you if I don't want to, girlie? I can follow your trails of hunts, Lily, and what were you thinking, taking on a buncha hellhounds by yourself—"

That was enough to put Dean back in big brother mode. "Hellhounds? Where did she find those?"

The voice on the other end paused abruptly, then, in a characteristically Bobby-tone said, "Dean? 'Sthat you?"

"Yeah, Bobby, it's me, now—"

"You alright, then? She found you?"

"Yes, she found me, but—"

"And you're alright?"

"I'm fine, but listen—"

"Good." And then Dean had to hold the phone away from his ear again while Bobby began his tirade all over.

"—worried your sister half to death, and that ain't no kinda exaggeration, ya idgit, girl near went crazy trying to—"

"She still IS half to death, Bobby, so you gotta keep it down." That shut him up for a second, so Dean continued, "She found me a few hours ago, and then nearly had a heart attack from all the caffeine in her system. What do you know about all this? Any news on Sammy?"

"Probably less than you do, Dean. I'm still lookin' for yer idgit brother, but I ain't found nothin', yet. Hell, I wouldna found you without you sendin' me that text message—"

"I didn't send you a text message, Bobby. Or at least I don't remember it."

"And that's a mystery in and of itself, but it's one we don't got time for. You headin' this way?"

"Be there in about six hours."

"And your sister—she holdin' up alright?"

"Catching up on a week's worth of sleep, and she looks like death warmed over, but she'll be okay once we find Sam."

"Alright, then, I'll give you a call if I find anything 'fore you get here."

"Thanks, Bobby. And thanks for taking care of her."

"You two just get here whole, and we'll call it even." And then he was gone.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face and turned to put her phone back, only to find Lily awake and staring at him.

"Did I wake you?" he said. "Sorry. You haven't been asleep long, and we won't be at Bobby's for another six hours, why don't you—"

"I know where he is."

"What?"

"Sam. I know where he is. Dean, we can't go to Bobby's, and we can't wait. You need to drive to some place in South Dakota called Cold Oak and you need to do it fast." Her voice was so strangely calm that Dean felt compelled to listen.

"How do you know?" he asked, foot on the accelerator.

"I…I Saw it," she said. "I know it sounds crazy, but—"

"But we don't have anything else to go on," Dean said tersely. "Did you see anything else?"

Lily didn't hesitate. Never before had she had to lie so convincingly.

"No," she said. "Nothing."

Dean didn't need to know that she'd seen Sammy die.

After all, like Missouri said: what she saw only applied to situations in which she was not present. All she had to do was get there in time.

"You said sixteen years."

"Mm?"

If the car hadn't been so painfully quiet, he'd have thought he'd imagined it. It was the first sound he'd heard from Lily in four hours, since she'd woken up looking haunted and gaunt. She hadn't said anything, or even looked at him, or anywhere, except straight ahead since telling him about Cold Oak. He'd called Bobby back, said he'd gotten a lead—tracked Sam's GPS, he lied. Bobby didn't need to know everything right now—and then took the next exit north past Bobby's.

They were still three hours away. The sky was darkening, and the tension in the car was growing palpable. Lily was still exhausted. He could see it in her face. But she wouldn't or couldn't sleep, and when anxiety made her toy with her pocketknife, Dean had taken it away after she'd nearly sliced her palm open.

"You should be sleeping," he'd told her. "Apparently, I've been sleeping for a least a few days now. I can handle the drive, if that's what you're worried about." It was stupid. Of course that wasn't what she was worried about, or at least not completely.

He'd expected an argument. He'd hoped for concession. What he got was neither, and infinitely worse than both. Lily hadn't spoken, hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked in response. If she hadn't still been fisting her hands in her lap, he'd have thought she was asleep with her eyes open.

It was then he remembered something she'd said back in the diner. Something that had piqued his interest—but paled in comparison to everything else she'd been saying.

"Back in the diner," he said. "You said you memorized my number when you were four. Sixteen years ago."

"Okay."

"You're 20."

"Yes."

"We missed your birthday."

Now there was a hint of a smile, though she didn't take her eyes from the horizon. "We've been a little busy."

"Not too busy to buy a cupcake or something."

"I hate cupcakes."

"You hate—"

"What's the point? If I'm going to eat cake, I'm going to eat cake." Dean wanted to cry. Lily sounded more like Lily than she had in…well, months. "A cupcake is just…insulting," she went on, still mercifully snarky. "And bad news. Like donut holes. You say, 'just one can't hurt,' and then you've eaten thirty and—oops! Diabetes."

"You've eaten 30 donut holes in one sitting?" He raised an eyebrow despite himself.

Now a real smile. "I didn't forget everything when I left home."

"'Cept how to celebrate your birthday."

"What, you mean wrapped up with Christmas? New rifle cartridge and a day off research? Trust me, I've been treating myself for years."

Dean grimaced. It was true. Lily's birthday fell 2 days before Christmas, and tended to be overlooked as it were.

"It's not a big deal, Dean, really. I've been doing the solo birthday thing for a while now. Everyone in a boarding school goes home for Christmas break, or at least most of them, and same in college. Really, it's better that way. It's a quiet day to treat myself to a new book and a pint of ice cream and a library all to myself. And…I mean…" For the first time in hours, the tension went out of her shoulders, and she looked down at her hands. When Dean glanced over, she was flushed red. His heart jumped into his throat.

"Lily? Are you okay?" He reached over the grab her wrist, check for her pulse—if she was going tachy again—

She smiled and pulled back. "I'm fine, Dean. I was gonna say…it was a pretty good birthday present, anyway."

"What?"

She was quiet for a long moment, and Dean thought she'd finally fallen asleep. Then:

"I had a dream. I mean…a vision dream. I…I Saw. At the crossroads. It's where I first Saw the hellhounds."

"What happened?"

"I only remember snippets. Some famous blues singer…ripped apart by these huge dogs. Big, black things. Invisible things."

"How—?"

"Hey, I don't know how it works," Lily said wearily. "I Saw them. He saw them. No one else in my vision…in my dream did." She glanced back out at the smudge of orange-purple-black where the dusk faded to twilight darkness. "They were after him because of some deal he'd made at the crossroads where I woke up. Years before, I guess. He'd gone there and made a deal. With a demon. He knew what it was, he must have, or else he never would have tried it. I guess…I guess he was desperate for fame."

Lily shivered. "I don't know how anyone could ever be desperate enough to make a deal with a demon, but he did. So, he got famous. And then…years later, they…they came back for him. For his pay."

"Which was?"

"Dean, giant dogs from hell tore him to pieces. I don't know how much 'money' that's worth, but it's more than we'll ever have."

Dean looked at her and was surprised to see she was smiling. Almost.

"Happy birthday, Lil," he said. "And that's what."

She frowned. "What?"

"If I ever had to make a deal with a demon, it'd be for that. For you. To see you happy. For Sam."

"For Dad?" she said suddenly. "Like Dad did?" She wasn't smiling any more, and Dean knew he's said the wrong thing.

"Lily…"

"Just drive, Dean. Hurry."

Dean sighed and put a foot on the accelerator while Lily tried to ignore the horrible coldness in her belly and the feeling that she'd just done something incredibly stupid.

The next chapter is done and uploaded, and will be published soon (for real this time!) It's just a mini chapter, though. I'll explain more when I get there.

Thanks!
CA