A/N: Im finally done school! thank god! Now, Im hoping I will have a lot more time to write so y'all that are still reading don't have to wait much. Sorry about the wait time btw. However, i really do think that this chapter is good, so I hope you do to! Please leave reviews and private messages! I love hearing what you guys have to say!

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Supernatural

Episode: Jump the shark


Faded. Dizzy. Blurry. Loud. The hallway expanded in front of me went on for miles. It had no ending point, none that I could see anyway. Wooden doors were lined on each side. All had the green paint chipping off slowly.

I padded down on the cold cheap-looking marble floor. I'm bear foot, and the ground beneath my feet slowly freezes underneath me. I can see my breath. I try contorting my body to bring myself some warmth, but I can't do much help—only being in a spaghetti strap pure white dress.

I stop in front of a green locker that was identical to the other green lockers that coated the hallway. But this one was unique, having a flaw of it's own; it was carved in with a key. A thin sketch of the word "freak" had been quickly done. I ran my hand over it, the surface rubbing against my finger-tips roughly. The familiarity sent multiple signals to my head. This was my eighth grade locker.

It was begging to be open, the dial—growing bigger in size ever two seconds motioned for my hands. I spun my combination—44 24 30. With a click, it opened. Book were not piled messily between the shelves. It was empty except for the waterfall of blood that almost knocked me over.

The pool of blood that spout from my locker knocked me off my feet, staining my white dress and splattered on my face. I picked myself off my ass, leaving a bloody handprint behind on the lockers behind me.

I ran. I wanted to scream for help but my breathing was too heavy. I would open my mouth to yell—to screech but nothing but a heavy wheeze would sound.

I yanked open one of the green classroom doors. Student's desks were filed: 8 desks in a row, 5 rows. To my left was the teacher's desk, piled with multiple stacks of papers—no doubt students homework or tests and quizzes. The computer screen was turned towards the other desks. The screen portrayed a fuzzy screen.

Kids were gathered in the front, smooched together in a crowded form. They were in all white with the palest skin. All at once, they turned their bodies towards me slowly. They had no faces; no eyes, no mouth, no nose, no nothing. They walked over to me like zombies.

I looked behind them for a teacher I could frantically call for help. That's when I noticed the green chalk board had big letters written with smeared blood: MONSTER.

"No," I whispered, backing up into a full sprint towards the door again. This time I was locked in. The kids were still approaching me as I began fighting with the door. Nothing would break the glass window. I was stuck. I pressed my back to the door and ducked my head into my hands. I was screaming but only I could hear it inside my head as I let the kids slowly swallow me.

My feet burn underneath me. Heat swamps over me. I look up from my crouched position. I am no longer in the classroom. Fire is everywhere, screams fill my ears, and blood is smeared on the walls. I'm in ripped jeans. My white T-shirt is seared with holes throughout. I start sweating.

"Madison."

I look up. I look into the eyes that mine come from. Dad.

He's chained to the blood-smeared brick wall. He is bound by the rusty charcoal chains, leaving marks on his skin as he tries to break free. His captor has their back to me. But their long hair and body figure tell me the villain is a girl.

"Dad," I whisper.

He looks at me with pain in his eyes. His once bright and ferocious eyes were tortured into small helpless orbs.

The woman turns around and I stare into my reflection. Her long naughty hair was identical to mine, her blue eyes were curved into an evil glare that matched her smirk. She held a butcher's knife in her left hand lazily. I was looking at myself.

"Why don't you come do it yourself?" My other half holds out the knife for me the take. "Begin your future with an early start."

Bubbles boil under my skin. I don't know if it's because I am so angry, or because I am in the middle of a fire pit.

My dad looks at me, waiting for me to take the knife as if he is expecting me to go against him. Goosebumps rise on my arms and the back of my neck. Why am I conflicted? This should be an easy answer. No. But I feel my arms reaching for the weapon and I can't stop them. My dad lowers his head, waiting for his fate.

"No." I say. My throat is scorched. My word is very inaudible. But it was enough to hold me back.

My identical shrugs her shoulders as if my answer makes no difference. She flips the knife in her hand and plunges it into my father's gut.

I scream. But when I look up, it's me holding the knife into his trembling body. It is me holding it in there, making sure he is quaking in pain. His eyes go dark and his head dangles.

I drop the knife and shake my father awake but he remains a dead weight. I panic, slapping his face screaming at him to wake up.

"Dad! Dad! Dad!—"

I snap awake. My eyes that seem as if they had been glued shut for what feels like a century. Tears are running down my face and my eyes are wide as I cough up my lungs, trying to get all the smoke out of there from hell.

My brothers are by my side. Sam has one hand on my shoulder and the other on my upper back. His eyes bore into mine with deep concern.

"Dean, water!" I barely hear Sam over my loud thumping heart.

I clutch the bed sheets tight in my fists. The tough material was so familiar to every other motel room we have ever stayed in.

Dean races back with a water bottle from one of the duffel bags. He twists off the cap and I snag the bottle from his hands and chug.

I immediately spit it out and gasp. My mouth burns as if I had just swallowed acid. Every droplet that fell on my skin burned.

"What was that?" I gasped.

Sam looks at Dean waiting for the answer as well. Dean looks at the both of us, his eyes wide.

"It was holy water."


"Why did you give her holy water in the first place?" Sam yells as we pace back and forth trying to figure out the reason for what just happened. Except, we all know the final answer. No one wants to admit it.

"It was the first thing I saw!" Dean defends himself in a booming voice.

"Why don't we ask the angel?" I motion towards Castiel who has been sitting on the bed next to me while my two brothers argued who was in the wrong when in reality this is no one's fault. I turn to Castiel who seems intrigued in family arguing. "Cas, you said that my body is going to transfer. Does this mean it's made it's decision? Cause I don't like it's choice."

"The two others that had the same thing as you do did not live to see their desired results. I am sorry I do not know the answers to these questions." Castiel answered.

"I'm screwed," I drop my head into my hands.

"No. No you're not," Dean walked up to me.

"Dean, you gave me holy water to drink. Instead of just gulping it down like I should have, I spat it up cause it boiled in my mouth. That is not normal."

"Your eyes were not black when you woke up." Sam says and turns to Castile to explain further. "They were silver. We've seen it before."

"Then her body is not in full transition."

"Full transition or no full transition, I am still a freak." I stand up from where I was sitting. "You might as well shoot me now, because I get worse or die. Oh! Just make sure it's with Ruby's gun."

"Shut up, okay! No one is shooting no one!" Dean rubs his hands over his face.

"I cant drinking fucking water!"

"You can't drink holy water! You can drink tap water!"

"Enough," Castiel stands. "I can do my best to search for what I can in heaven." And just like that he is gone.

"Bobby's not getting back. I say we lay low until we know where to start." Sam says.

"Laying low is what I have been doing. Laying low is not getting me anywhere except to demonhood! I don't want to be another creature we put a bullet through because it's not humane."

"We are trying our best here—"

"It's not working!" The room falls silent. I want to storm out of the room spilling curses. I knew if I left I would be followed and it's just not worth it. "I want to leave," I say calmly. "Please. I cant be in this room anymore. I don't care wear we go, I just want to drive."

The more I talk the more tears come to my eyes before I can stop the flow. I am never a cry baby, I never have been. But nothing is the same anymore. I think my whole personality has changed since then.

Sam takes the bait and holds me in his arms. I grasp his forearm and cry.


I wake up in the passenger seat of the impala. My back is stiff and my throat is parched. Behind me, Dean is sleep in the row of seats. I sigh and rub the sleep out of my eyes. I twists the rearview mirror and look at my pale reflection—the same one that killed my father in my dream last night.

The car is parked next to a lake. Sam is leaning against the hood, brushing his teeth. Oh, how I wish I could do that: consume water without being paranoid. I pop a mint into my mouth and hop out of the car.

Sam turns around. He stiffens but tries to play it off. "Hey." He looks me up and down. I obviously look like crap—standing there in the same white t-shirt and ripped jeans I was in yesterday. "How are you feeling?"

I raise my eyebrows and give a pathetic look. I rip the trunk open and dig through my duffle bag, pulling out a toothbrush and Corona Light. I break the tip of the glass bottle open and pour the beer over my painted brush.

Sam looks at me with a weird face. "You're brushing your teeth with beer?" I nod. "Madds, you can have water."

"I'm not risking becoming another freak show in front of anyone." I spit out the excess. Sam was right, this was nasty.

Dean climbs out of the back seat and nearly dumps to the ground. This catches Sam's attention. "Hey. How'd you sleep?"

"How do you think? I'm starving. Let's get breakfast." Dean answers.

"Where? We're like two hours from anything."

"But I'm hungry now." Dean comes around to the front of the car.

"There's probably still a sandwich in the back seat."

Dean turns around, rubbing a hand over his face. He reaches in through the open back window, pulling out a paper bag. He opens the bag and sniffs, then leans his head back and inhales.

"It's tuna," He says.

One of our phones ring inside the car. Dean tosses the bag back into the back seat. We all check our pockets for our phones. It's none of ours. Dean leans in through the from window and rummages in the glove compartment, pulling out the ringing phone.

"Isn't that dad's phone?" Sam asks.

Dean looks back at us. He flips the phone open and puts it to his ear. "Hello?" … "He can't come to the phone. Can I help you?" … "Well, sorry to be the one to break this to you, pal, but John died more than two years ago. Who is this?" Dean stares at us when he gets his answers. His face is unreadable.


"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Windom, Minnesota," Dean answers.

"Look, Dean. Dad was too preoccupied taking care of us and seeking revenge on Yellow Eyes. There is no way he had another child with another woman."

"Yeah, well this guy doesn't seem to think so," Dean parks the car in front of Cousin Oliver's Hilltop Café. "What do you got, Sam?"

"Dean, look, best I can tell, Adam Milligan is real." Sam says. Dean unlocks and opens the trunk, then the weapons box. I was with Dean on this one; full out doubt. Sam reads from a paper in an open folder. "Um, born September twenty-ninth, 1990 to a Kate Milligan. No father listed on the birth certificate." Sam raises his eyebrows, impressed, "He's an Eagle Scout." Dean pulls assorted weapons out of the trunk, one of them being Ruby's knife. "Graduated from high school with honors and currently goes to the University of Wisconsin—biology major, pre-med." Dean closes the weapons box with a smack. "Dean? You listening?"

"He sounds just like your twin, Sam." I say and continue to watch Dean.

"This is a trap," Dean finally speaks. He closes the trunk and heads past Sam. Sam closes the folder with a sigh.

The café's door dings above us when we open it. There's a man at the counter, a waitress serving a burger, and a couple of other customers. Sam and Dean slide into the same side of a booth in thinking this Adam kid will sit on the other side. I bring a chair forward and sit on the side.

Sam thumps Dad's journal and the folder on the table. "Dean, I'm telling you, the kid checks out."

"Great, so he's an actual person on the planet Earth. Sucks he's got a demon in him."

Another Waitress with a name tag of Denise approaches the table with menus and glasses of water. She gives us each a glass.

"Hi. Welcome to Cousin's Oliver's."

"Thanks," Sam grins.

"Can I—"

"We're actually waiting on somebody." Dean cuts her off.

Denise, now annoyed, slaps some menus in front of us.

"Thank you," Sam says before she walks off.

Dean takes his glass and pours it into the potted plant behind him.

"What are you—"

Dean puts the glass between his knees and pulls out a flask, unscrewing the top.

"Holy water?" Sam raises his eyebrows.

I stiffen in my seat. I can mentally hear the sizzle of my skin.

"Yup," Dean pops the P. "One sip of Jesus juice, this evil bitch is gonna be in a world of hurt."

"And what if he's not possessed?"

"Then he is a shapeshifter," Dean shrugs like it's no big deal.

Dean brings out silver cutlery, which he sets in front of the place Adam would be sitting.

"Hence the silver," I say.

"Look, either way, this thing is gonna bleed. I mean, using Dad as bait? That's the last mistake of its short, pitiful life." Dean says. Sam frowns at him. "What?"

"Dean…listen. There's an entry in Dad's journal." Sam flips through the rough edges, "From January of 1990, saying he's headed to Minnesota to check out a case. That's, roughly, oh, about nine months before the kid was born."

"Coincidence," Dean scoffs.

"Coincidence," Sam repeats, "Net two pages of the journal are torn out." Sam indicates to the remains of the pages.

"You're not actually buying this, are you?" Dean looks at him like he's crazy.

"Look, man, I don't want to believe it either, I'm just saying it's possible." Sam closes the journal and picks it up, waving it in front of him. ""I mean, Dad would be gone for weeks at a time, and he wasn't exactly a monk." Sam puts the journal away. "I mean, a hunter rolls into town, kills a monster, saves the girl….sometimes the girl's grateful."

Dean's face contorts into disgust. "Well, now I am thinking about Dad sex. Stop talking."

"Maybe he slipped on past the goalie."

I made a vomit noise. Dean glares, "Dude!"

Sam looks over at me. "You should drink something. You're going to get dehydrated."

"I'm not thirsty." I say.

Dean leans over and puts his middle finger to my water. He keeps it there for a few seconds. "There. Now you know it's not holy water."

"Yes, now it looks much more appealing." I say sarcastically.

The door chimes again since we've been here. A teenager walks into the place. He's tall with shirt blonde hair. I don't want to say anything, but I can see some Dad in this kid.

"Adam?" Sam speaks.

Adam looks over. Sam raises a hand and he walks over.

"You Sam?" He asks.

"Yeah, uh," Sam coughs, "This is uh, Dean and Maddie."

"Hey," He nods at us. He sets his backpack on the floor next to the empty chair that he soon takes. The door chimes again, faltering my stare so I am no longer boring holes into his head. "So, um…how did you know my dad?"

"Uh, we worked together," Sam answers.

Adam looks at me. His face indicates confusion but he doesn't hold his stare long. "How did he die?"

"On the job," Sam answers. It was not a lie, but it probably made no sense to Adam if he thought Dad was just some ordinary guy.

"He was a mechanic, right?"

"A car fell on him," Dean says bluntly. I almost choke on my gum. The answer being so outrageous in such a serious situation takes me by surprise. Dean didn't find it funny. He was pissed.

The waitress comes back to the table, giving me time to recollect myself again. She looks a lot more chipper, like someone just tipped her nicely.

"Hey, Adam. How you doing?"

Oh, so he must come here often. At least that was a good sign. Wasn't it?

Denise puts a glass of water in front of Adam. Dean leans forward to take it. "Oh, I'll take that. I am very thirsty." No he isn't. He just wants Adam to drink the holy water. Dean takes a sip. Denise eyes him up, displeased.

She redirects her attention to Adam, "The usual, Adam?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks, Denise." Adam folds his menu and hands it back to her.

The waitress leaves and Adam takes the glass of holy water. I don't know if we're making it obvious as we all stare carefully when he takes his first sip. Nothing happens. Is this a good thing? Did I want this guy to be a demon rather than another brother? I don't know.

"So, uh, when's the last time you saw John?" I ask.

"I don't even know," He shakes his head. The kid is shy and intimidated. Understandable. "It's…a couple years."

"Why did you decide to call him now?"

He shrugs. "I didn't know who else to call. He's the only family I got." I blink. "My mom's missing."

"Really?" Sam asks. "I'm sorry. Uh, for how long?"

Dean's gaze is still a deathly glare. "It's tragic, really. But if you're John's kid, how come we've never heard of you?"

"'Cause John and me didn't really know each other. Not until a few years ago, anyway."

"What do you mean?" Sam asks.

"My mom never talked about him. I knew some stuff."

"What kind of stuff?" Dean asks.

"My mom's a nurse, and Dad came into the ER, pretty torn up. Hunting accident or something. And I knew his name. John Winchester. That's about it. We're not exactly a nuclear family."

"Yeah, well, who is these days?" Sam grins to relieve tension.

"So, when did you, uh, when did you finally meet him?" Dean asks.

"When I was twelve. My mom had one of his old numbers, and after I begged her—God, twenty-four-seven she finally called him. God, when John heard he had a son, he raced to town. I mean, he dropped everything. He drove all night."

Alright, that one hurt a little. Dad wouldn't even race to town if he had heard one of us had been hospitalized. If he knew we were going to live, he would have Bobby or someone handle it.

Denise walks back and places a plate in front of Adam. "There you go."

"Thanks." Adam indicates towards his food. "You mind?"

Aw, he was polite.

"Please, dig in," Dean forces a smile.

Adam takes the napkin out from under the silverware without touching the silver and spreads the napkin over his lap.

Why is Dean hunched over like he is? I look down under the table, and yes indeed, he has a gun cocked at Adam. Was he kidding, right now? If this Adam kid was going to pull anything, it wouldn't be in a crowded diner where people knew him.

"He would swing by once a year or so," Adam picks up the knife and fork. Again, nothing happens. Therefore, Adam is not a shapeshifter either. I guess this kid was the real deal? Dean glances away. "You know, called when he could. But still…" Adam takes a bite. I watch Dean, and notice him putting the gun away. "He taught me poker and pool and even bought me my first beer when I was fifteen. And, uh...he showed me how to drive. Dad, he had this beautiful 'sixty-seven Impala—"

Dean stops him there, infuriated now. "Oh, this is crap. You know what, you're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Uh, yeah, you are."

"I'm sorry, but who the hell are you to call me a liar?" Adam's eyebrows scrunch in confusion.

"We're John Winchester's kids, that's who." Dean points to Sam and I. "We are his kids."

Adam stares at us. I don't know what his reaction is going to be, but I do hope it's a good one. "I've got siblings?"

"No you don't have siblings. Look, man, I don't know if you're a hunter or what kind of game you're playing here."

"I have never been huntin gin my life."

"Whatever, I'm out of here. Come on, guys."

Dean gets up to leave. Adam stands too, not letting this go. "I can prove it."

I look at Adam before looking at Sam. I raise my eyebrows. I say we give the kid a chance. His mom is missing and he has nowhere to turn to. Who am I to leave him there stranded. I look at his face one more time and see a vulnerable kid just looking for help.

"Alright," I say. I see Dean look at me, and he was not amused. "Show us."


He takes us to his house. A two-story house in the suburbs with friendly neighbors surrounding it.

He takes us to his room. Dean goes to inspect a picture frame that was on his dresser. It was of Adam when he was younger. My father was smiling next to him in a baseball cap. We examine the picture.

"He took you to a baseball game?" Dean holds up the frame to Adam. His voice was laced with jealousy that only Sam and I could detect.

"Yeah, when I turned fourteen. Dad was around for a few of my birthdays." Adam says.

Sam holds Dad's journal, open to a page he reads from. "September twenty-ninth, two-thousand-four. One word. Minnesota."

"He took you to a freakin' baseball game?" Dean repeats.

"Yeah, why? What'd Dad do with you on your birthday?" Adam asks innocently, taking the picture back.

"Oh…" Dean frowns. Adam looks away.

"Adam you said you called Dad because your mom was missing?" I ask.

"Yeah," he nods.

"How long has she been gone?"

"Three days."

"Who was the last person to see her?" Dean asks.

"Mr. Abbinanti, our neighbor. He saw her come home Tuesday night, but she never showed up to work on Wednesday."

"Did you call the police?" Sam asks.

"Mom's supervisor at the hospital did. And then I drove down here as fast as I could." Adam pauses. "I should have been here."

"What's the, uh, cops says?" Dean asks.

"That they, uh, they searched the house. They didn't find anything." Adam tucks his hands into his pocket. "She wouldn't leave without telling anybody. It's like she just dropped off the face of the earth, you know?"

"Do you mind if we take a look in her room?" I ask.

Adam shrugs and leads us to hers. It looks more like a master bedroom than Adam's but not much. There were more pictures cluttering the walls. Some were with Dad. It is so unfamiliar to see Dad with another woman looking genuinely happy.

Dean shifts Kate's dresser. Seeing nothing behind it, he shifts it back. "The, uh, nightstand was knocked over. Was there anything else?" He asks.

"Oh, not really. The sheriff said there's no sign of a break-in." Adam says. Dean continues to look around. "What, you think the cops missed something?"

"Maybe. Yeah. They don't have my eyes."

"You're a mechanic?" Adam looks at him curiously.

"Yeah," Dean remembers. "That's right."

Adam hesitates before asking him a sensitive question. "Dean, what else can you tell me about Dad?"

"You knew him," Dean shrugs.

It is the first time I wish I was with Sam researching than being in this awkward situation.

"Not as well as you."

"Trust me, kid. You don't want to know."

Sam appears at the door, interrupting the conversation, holding up a handful of papers.

"Give us a minute." Dean says.

I walk out with Dean. I know this looks obvious but what else was I supposed to do? I want to avoid any awkward conversation with Adam and also listen to what Sam has to say. I know, shocker right?

We walk down the hallway far enough so Adam couldn't eavesdrop.

"You talk to the cops?" Dean asks Sam.

"Yeah. Like Adam said, no leads on his mom," Sam admits. But he looks like he has more to offer.

"Shocker there," Dean says.

"But I did find this," Sam reaches into a folder filled with paper. He pulls out a copy of a newspaper called the Windom Gazette dated all the way back from January 1990. The headline is "Missing Bodies Found" and underneath it is the subtitle "Seventeen bodies recovered from abandoned shed". "Um…here. In 1990, there were seventeen grave robberies in Windom."

"You think that's why Dad came through here?" I ask, looking over his arm at the papers.

"I'd say so. Check it out," Sam says.

He points at the photo underneath the article. I take a closer look. In the crowd of what looks like an audience of a speech, I could see my dad in the middle surrounded by strangers.

"All right, so he was hunting something," Dean says. "What?"

"No idea. Those were the pages he threw out of the journal. But last month, the corpse snatching started up again. Three bodies from the local cemetery."

"So whatever he was after, he didn't kill it. It's back."

"And, what, it's stepped up its game to fresh meat? I mean, Kate's missing, and, uh-" Sam goes to the next paper. It's a copy of a photo of a man in large black glasses named Joe Barton. "so is a local bartender a guy named Joe Barton."

Dean takes the photo and walks back into the room with Adam. Adam is sitting on the bed when Dean walks into the room and holds the photo to his face. "Hey, does your mom know Joe Barton?"

Adam scrunches his eyebrows, "Uh, I don't think so. Why?"

Dean looks back at Sam and I then at Adam, taking a long pause. He looks down on the ground. His brows furrow when he notices something. He walks over for a closer look.

"What is it?" I ask from the doorway.

"Watch out," He tells Adam. Dean flips up the edge of the comforter and looks under the bed. "Give me a hand with the mattress."

Dean tosses the pillows aside and with Adam's help moved the mattress off the bedframe. Under the bed is a vent large enough to fit a mother through it if necessary. Sam and I walk closer for inspection.

The three of us look at each other. We're all thinking the same thing. I shake my head. "I'm not going down there." Sam and Dean raise their fifst for rock-paper-scissors. Sam picks rock and Dean picks scissors.

Sam smirks and Dean waves his arms, frustrated, then puts his hands on his hips, "Every time."

Dean goes down under. Sam, Adam and I sit quietly in the room as we wait. We hear nothing except for a few dents being made as Dean crawls into the dark space.

He comes back ten minutes later. He looks at Sam and I, speaking with his eyes. Then, he turns to Adam, his eyes silent. "There was lots of blood down there. From what I can tell, this was the captors escape route."

"Oh my god," Adam puts his hand to his mouth.

"Call the police and say you found something. We got to get going." Dean says and motions us out the door.

"Wait, so you're just leaving?" He asks.

"Cops and us don't do well, kid."

I felt like an older sister, which was so weird to me considering I have never had the chance to be one. Adam is my half brother—yeah we figured that one out already. But I don't really care that I have only known him for a couple of hours, he was scared and under a lot of stress. I didn't want to leave him to deal with this all on his own.

At the same time, I didn't want to feel the rage of Dean later on. I give Adam a small grin and follow my brothers out the door. He is shaking, but tries to keep his cool. I fight the instinct to go back in there and help him through it. I get in the car and stay silent until we reach the motel.


We don't know what this thing is, but whatever it is, it has been here before and now it has returned. It was unusual for dad to leave a hunting case without killing the creature and make sure it was gone for good. That part of this hunt just hasn't been able to wrap around my head.

I think of Adam and his sweet apple pie life he must have had growing up. The baseball games, birthday parties, school, a stable home, a mom—all are luxuries to my brothers and I but to him they were normal, everyday things. Now, all of it is going to change. He's an 18 year old boy now on his own. No mother, no father, no siblings. Friends? Possibly. But they come and go.

We are scattered around the room, cleaning and shining the weapons we got. Silence surrounds us. Dean is still pissed at the fact that we actually have another brother. Why did Dad keep this from us? Yeah, we wouldn't be happy about it, but we were bound to find out eventually.

"Should we call later and ask how the police handled it after we finish this case up?" I ask, looking up from the pistol.

Dean also looks up from his shotgun and sighs. "He's a grown boy, Madds. I'm sure it went just how you would expect it too; the police show up, take pictures and samples and then leave. They're not going to find anything."

"He's scared, Dean. I mean, we cant just leave him like that. He deserves to know some answers."

"You want to tell him that some kind of mythical creature killed his mother while he was gone? You've seen how that goes down, we look like clowns."

"It could give him some closure," I fight back. "At least he would know that some old hag didn't do it out of pleasure. I mean if you think about it, would you rather be killed under the hands of a human or a monster?" The room goes quiet.

I am about to ask Sam for some back up here, but there is a knock at the door that ends our conversation.

I drop the pistol into the duffel bag next to me. Dean hides his gun underneath the cloth he was cleaning it with. Sam get up to grab the door.

Adam enters with no hello, "Who the hell are you?"

"Adam, hey," Sam says. He closes the door behind Adam. "Take it easy."

"No, don't tell me to take it easy, okay? My house is a crime scene, my mom's probably dead, and you three-well, you tell me to call the cops, but you got to bail before they show? So, who are you really?" Silence. "Cops didn't know where to look for my mom, Dean, but you did. And I heard you talking earlier-something about grave robberies." I follow Adam's gaze and its stuck to the barrel of the shot gun poking out of the cloth Dean so carelessly tried to hide it under. "You're not mechanics. I just want to know what's going on." Silence. My heart tugs. I want to scream it. "Please."

There it is. "We're hunters." I say.

"Maddie," Dean shouts at me.

I flinch but I do not stop. "He deserves to know, Dean."

"What do you mean, hunters?" Adam asks, scanning all of our faces.

Dean shakes his head disapprovingly at me. I look at Sam, he is on my side but wont say anything.

I continue to tell him mostly everything. I tell him about everything he thought was a fictional creature was a true life thing. I tell him how we have grown up in the life and have known nothing else. I continue telling him about Dad and how he had met his mother while on a case.

I didn't know how he was handling it all. To me, I thought he was going to pass out. "Okay so…basically, you're saying that every movie monster, every nightmare that I've ever had, that's all real?"

"Godzilla's just a movie," Dean says.

"We hunt them. So did Dad," Sam says.

Adam nods, "Okay."

Dean looks at him. "Okay? That's it?"

"What am I supposed to say?"

"That we're liars, that we're crazy. Nobody just says okay."

"Well, you're my siblings. You're telling me the truth right?"

"Yeah."

Adam shrugs. "Then I believe you. Now, what took my mom?"

Sam takes a step forward, "We're not sure. Something's in town stealing bodies, living and dead, but we don't know what."

"There's a long list of freaks that fit the bill," Dean adds.

"You think maybe she might still be alive?" The question is so innocent and so serious. I can't make eye contact. I cant answer. Sam and Dean look down as well. Adam gets the idea. "Oh. How can I help?"

"You cant." Dean says.

"This thing killed my mom. If you're hunting it, I want in."

"No."

"Dean look maybe—" Sam begins to speak.

"Maybe what?" Dean snaps.

"He lost his mother," Sam says. "Maybe we can understand what that feels like."

"Why do you think Dad never told us about this kid, Sam? Huh? Why do you think he ripped out the pages?"

"Because—"

"Because he was protecting him!"

"Dad's dead, Dean."

"That doesn't matter! He didn't want Adam to have our lives, okay? And we are gonna respect his wishes."

"Do I get a say in this?" Adam speaks up.

"No," Sam and Dean say at the same time.

Adam looks at me, as if waiting for me to say something. "Don't worry, you get used to it."

Dean gets up from the bed and walks towards the door. "Babysit the kid."

And for once that doesn't mean me. Ha! Maybe having a little brother was cool.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

Dean grabs his jacket. "I'm going out!"

Dean leaves and Sam sighs.

"Is he always like that?" Adam asks cautiously.

Sam laughs. "Welcome to the family." Adam looks down. "Here," Sam pulls out his gun and ejects the clip. "I'm gonna teach you a few things."

"Uh, Dean said—"

"I know what Dean said." Sam holds the unloaded gun out to Adam. "And I know what it's like to want revenge."

Well, isn't that the damn truth. The only thing this family does know is revenge. Mom's death? Revenge. Dad's death? Revenge. Dean's hell teacher? Revenge. Angels? Revenge. It was an on-going pattern with us. You need revenge? Call the Winchesters.


"Here," Sam throws an apple at me. I catch it in one hand and look at him confused. "You need to eat something. You've been starving yourself for too long."

"I'm not hungry," I say. I snap some rock-salt bullets into the shot gun and place the apple on the table next to me.

"Madds—"

"Seriously, Sam." I look up. He presses his lip into a thin line and looks down. "Look, I don't want you to worry about me."

"You cant keep pushing this away." Sam looks over to see if Adam was eavesdropping. "This is serious."

"I'm not pushing it away, but it seems that we have a more urgent problem to worry about." I motion towards Adam.

"You're scared." Sam states. "You're scared and you're hiding it."

"Yeah, Sam. I am scared! What do you want me to say? Me saying that I'm scared isn't going to help anything or anyone."

"No," Sam shakes his head. "But it's one step closer to being normal." I look away. Sam glances over at Adam and tosses him a small gun. "Adam, try disassembling that."

"We can work on this later." I say.

"No, because later something else will pop up that you will use as an excuse to distract yourself with. You're just like Dean that way. You know ignoring it will not make it go away."

"But neither will anything we do," I reply quickly. "That's the thing, Sam. I'm screwed. My body has already made its choice that I'm going to be hell's bitch."

"Then do something about it," Sam says louder. "Don't just sulk like a baby and let it take over you. Be in control of your own body and do whatever you can to stay that way!"

I stare at him for a good ten seconds before look away. I pick up the shot gun again and begin popping in more bullets. My head is swimming and I feel the walls slowly closing in.

Adam looks uncomfortable. Hi bites his lip and glances everywhere except for at Sam and I and the gun he is still trying to dissemble.

Sam walked over to Adam and sits on the adjacent bed. Adam fidgets even more. I tilt my head and furrow my eyebrows. His fidget looks fake. I don't ponder it too long.

"So…how did dad really die?" Adam asks.

"Demon," Sam answers shortly.

"You hunted it down? Got revenge?" Adam looks intrigued and interested.

"Dean killed it," I say.

"So it's over for you."

Sam looks at Adam. "It's never over." The irony is there in his answer. He knows it is never over and yet he tried so hard to live that normal life. It took killing his girlfriend to realize he could never run away.

Then I think. Who has to die to put me in my place? The thought sends chills running down my arm. My stomach twists in a knot and I'm nauseous.

The lights in the motel room go out. Something in the room begins to rattle. Sam and I snap our heads in each others' direction. Our eyes wander the room. I'm no longer worrying about my emotions. I'm on my feet, ready for whatever is going to be thrown at me.

Adam stands up. He's not as nervous as one would think he would be. "What the—"

"Stay here," Sam tells him.

Sam loads the shotgun, approaching the door. I follow him with the demon knife in my hand. I nod at him. He opens the door and looks around. We aim our weapon in which ever direction we're looking at. No matter where we turn, there is nothing there.

There is a noise behind us. We turn and aim in the general direction, once again. I look up. There is a vent near the ceiling. That's it.

"Its in the vents," I say.

"Go!" Sam shouts.

Sam fires at the vent, then hustles Adam out of the room, following right behind me. We hurry down the stairs. I trip over bits and pieces of I don't even know what. Its dark outside and it takes a while for my eyes to adjust.

"Where's your car?" Sam yells to Adam.

"Over here," Adam points and runs to a worn-down truck.

"Keys," Sam says.

"Here," Adam tosses them to him.

Adam heads to the passenger side of the truck. I instinctively go to the back seat. Sam fumbles with the keys. Then, something grabs his ankle, yanking him to the ground and under the truck.

"Sam!" I called. I sprint to his side and pull at his arms. He grabs the truck to resist. "Shit," I pull harder on his arms.

"Dean, help!" Adam yells.

I didn't even hear the roar of the impala engine.

Dean runs to us and grabs Sam's other arm. Together we pull him free. Dean grabs the dropped shotgun of Sam's and fires. We look at each other, we're all exhausted. Adam flops the ground.

"What the hell was that?" Dean exclaims.

I bend down on my knees and look under the truck. There is a sewer gate underneath half open. "Adam, move your truck back. I see something."

He does as he is told. He backs the truck out of the space. Dean lifts the shot gun at the grate and aims. There's blood on the edge. I want to go down there and see if whatever tried taking Sam was still down there.

Dean gets up and heads past Sam who is leaning on the hood of the Impala. "I winged it, did you see anything?" Dean asks.

"I didn't get a good look," Sam says.

"What the hell is this thing?"

"Why—who—should we go after it?" Adam stutters.

"I think we should," I put my input in there.

"No way in hell. It's a maze, that thing is long gone." Dean says.

"All right, so, we don't know what it is, but we do know who it's going after. Joe Barton, Adam's mom-" Sam starts.

"And Adam," Dean finishes. "It was under his truck, just waiting for him."

"It set a trap, and I walked right into it."

"Doesn't matter. You're right-there's a pattern. Joe Barton was a cop. I'm pretty sure he helped out Dad. So we've got him, Dad's girl, and his son."

"All the people Dad knew in town," I say and look at my brothers as it clicks.

"At least we know why its back," Dean nods.

"It wants revenge," Adam speaks.

We look at Adam. His eyes were big as even more information starts to sink into his growing brain. Joe Barton and dad's night-love were all dead. That left Adam and lucky….or unlucky for him, he was still alive. That trap wasn't for Sam it was for Adam.


We rush to Adam's house. We don't have a plan in mind, but the first thing we need to do is get the hell out of here.

"Grab your stuff," Dean orders when we walk in. "We'll hit the road."

Adam flips on the light and heads upstairs. I take a deep breath and walk towards the kitchen.

Sam sits at the table, "We shouldn't leave." He brings his injured ankle to the chair next to him and it lands with a thump.

"What are you talking about?" I say.

"Yeah, let's stay here, where the kid's mom got ganked. Good one," Dean says sarcastically.

"I'm serious," Sam states.

"No, Sam, we're gonna take the kid, we're gonna drop him off at Bobby's, and then you and me are gonna come back here and finish what Dad started."

"How? We got no leads, no witnesses. We do have what this thing wants."

I look at Dean. Sam had a point.

"You want to use the kid as bait? That's why you want to stay here?"

"Maybe this thing will come back. We could train Adam and get him ready."

"He could die, Sam," Dean argued.

"We could all die, Dean. Even if we do kill this thing, there are tons of other freaks that want revenge, on Dad, on us. What if they find the kid instead and he's not ready?"

Sam unrolls the ace bandage and starts wrapping his ankle. Adam returns downstairs with a backpack slung over his shoulder.

"I'll do it," He says. I turn around and look him dead in the eye. The bastard was eaves dropping again. "Whatever it takes, I'll do it. I want to do it."

There was no turning back now. Dean knows he lost this match. Adam was gonna turn into a hunter sooner than later.


The air around is was humid… at least that's how it feels to me. Or it could just be my nerves taking over as I stand next to Dean, leaning on his impala while watching Sam teach Adam how to shoot a gun and other tips he was going to need for the job. I know Dean doesn't like this idea at all, but for once he can't stop it.

All around us are signs. Three about "NO TRESSPASSING" and another about a penal code? Whatever the hell that means.

Dean has this mean look on his face like he's deep in thought and his thoughts are not good. I look away and focus on Sam. Watching Sam and Adam reminded me how Sam would teach me new tricks for the hunting life when we were younger. He was always my favorite to train with. He just had the understanding aspect to him that Dean and my dad didn't. If I messed up, he didn't lecture me on everything bad that could have happened if it were to happen in a current situation; instead he just repeated the steps.

Sam fires three bullets—all surround the small dot in the middle of the man-made-target. Adam looks at him astounded, "Whoa."

Sam shrugs, "It's easy. Just feel the recoil and time to pull the trigger. Three taps." Sam hands the gun over to Adam, "Give it a go."

Adam takes the gun and moves in front of Sam. He fires three times, kicking up leaves. I raise my eyebrows when all three shots hit the sign, fairly close together. Two were in the inner circle and the other right on the line. Sam grins.

Dean shakes his head and looks away.

"That doesn't add up…" I say to myself.

"Beginner's luck, right?" Adam smiles at Sam.

"Nah, man. You're a natural. Good shooting." Sam slaps Adam on the back.

Later we went back to Adam's house. Dean still didn't speak a word. I was too focused on staring at Adam to even put my input in whatever the hell Sam was talking about.

There are several different books about the supernatural world just lying on Adam's kitchen table. Sam and Adam sit focused around the books.

"…So, then we lit it on fire," Sam explains a story about a random a wendigo hunt I wasn't apart of cause I was stuck at home attending stupid high school.

"With a homemade flamethrower?" Adam raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah, they're easy to build. I'll show you." Sam says.

"That is some job you got, man." Adam shakes his head.

"Being a hunter isn't a job, Adam. It's life. You're pre-med. You got girlfriend, friends?" Sam says. Adam nods. "Not anymore you don't. If you're really gonna do this, you can't have those kinds of connections, ever. They're weaknesses. You'll just put those people in danger, get them killed."

Dean and I look at each other. We're thinking the same thing.

"That's the price we pay. You cut 'em out, and you don't look back. There's only one thing you can count on. Family."

"Sam," Dean stops him there. Sam looks over. "Can I talk to you?"

Sam gets up and follows us towards the stairs. Dean stares up at Sam with a glare, "What the hell was that?"

"What?" Sam asks.

"'Hunting is life. You can't have connections.' Dad gave you that exact Same speech, remember? It was just before you ditched us for Stanford. You hated Dad for saying that stuff, and now you're quoting him?" I say.

"Yeah, well it turns out dad was right," Sam looks down on me.

"Since when?"

"Since always, Madds. When I look at Adam, you know what I see?"

"A normal kid." Dean answers.

"No. Meat. Because the demons and monsters out there, that's all he is. I hated Dad for a long time. I did. But now I think I understand. So we didn't have a dog and a white picket fence. So what? Dad did right by us. He taught us how to protect ourselves. Adam deserves the same."

"Listen to yourself, man."

"You think I'm wrong?"

"I think it's too late for us. This is our life. This is who we are, okay? And it's fine. I accept that. But with Adam, he's still got a chance, man. He can go to school. He could be a Doctor."

"What makes Adam so special?" Sam says.

"What, are you jealous of the kid?"

"Are you?"

There is a pause. I noticed the way Dean looked at the family pictures of Adam and Dad back in Adam's room. The way he looked at it longer than he would have—how he was amazed that dad took the kid to a baseball game for his birthday? What did we get for our birthday? Our choice of what to order for dinner.

Sam continues, "Dean...all this...it's not real. The dad Adam knew-he wasn't real. The things out there in the shadows-they are real. The world is coming to an end. That's real. Everything else is just part of the crap people tell themselves to get through the day."

"Dad didn't have a choice with us, okay? But with Ada, he did. Adam doesn't have to be cursed." Dean argues.

"He's a Winchester," Sam says. "He's already cursed."

Sam was right.

Dean didn't think so, "No. No, whatever's hunting Adam, I'm gonna find it."

"You already looked everywhere, Dean." I say quietly.

"Well, then I'll look again." Dean leaves out the front door.

I turn to Sam, "So, are we doing this or what?"

Sam nods, "Yeah come on."

Adam sits at the kitchen table still, looking through the several books lied out in front of him. He stands when he watches us come in. I look him up and down. I feel bad for the kid—joining this life willingly. Poor kid has no idea what he is signing up for. But hey, it could be worse. He could be fucking a demon or turning into one. However, those two rolls are already taken.

"Where did Dean go?" Adam asks.

"He's gonna try to look again for answers and see if there was anything out there that he might have missed," I explain.

Sam claps, "Alright. We're going to salt your entire house. Basically, by doing that, we will leave only one area unsalted. That will be the only entrance that this thing can come in through."

"And that salt blocks out any kind of creature?" Adam asks.

"It should."

Dean left with the car, leaving us to find salt and fend for ourselves. We find two pretty big jugs of salt surprisingly and use that.

As I pour salt around the house, I try to look for any clues in the house that we might have missed. But there is nothing. In fact, it looks as if this place was just polished. There is nothing dirty in sight—it doesn't look like a home that a teenage boy would be living in after being home alone for quite sometime.

In his mother's bedroom we leave the vent underneath her bed clear of any salt. Sam unscrews the nails so that nothing is block the entrance in or out of there.

"All right. We've closed off every other way into the house. If this thing's coming, it's coming through here," Sam says.

There was a creak downstairs as if someone was opening the door.

"You were saying?" Adam says with a smart-ass tone. Damn, maybe he really was a Winchester.

"Adam! Adam!" A woman screams from downstairs.

"Mom?" Adam says and snaps towards the door.

"No," Sam and I say at the same time.

There is no way. She is dead. Shapeshifter? We would have found skin lying around but we only found blood. Plus, they aren't known for grave digging and stealing dead bodies.

"Mom!" Adam takes off towards his mother's cries.

"Adam!" Sam and I call out. Sam chambers a shotgun round and follows. I grab my knife out of my boot and chase after them.

"Adam, wait," I scream down the hallway.

Adam runs to his mother. She looks like a mess—like she hasn't slept in days and she's been wearing the same scrubs for weeks.

"It took me but I got away," She reaches towards her son.

He walks to her with open arms, "Its okay."

"I got away," She repeats.

Adam and his mother, Kate, hug. Sam and I look at each other. She's bluffing and this whole thing is bullshit. There was too much blood of hers in the vent for her to be alive. Who the fuck does she thinks he is dealing with.

Sam aims the shot gun and I tighten my grip on my blade. Where is Dean?

"Adam, step away from her." Sam warns.

"Sam, what the hell?" Adam yells. He steps in front of his mother, blocking her like a human shield.

"She's not your mother," I glare at Kate. She fakes a surprised and panicked face.

"Adam, who—what is going on?" She stutters.

"Get away from him," Sam yells.

"What is going on?" She repeats.

"You listen to me."

"Its really her, okay?" Adam tries.

"There was too much blood!" I yell back at him. "Your mother is dead. There was too much blood in the vents!"

Sam shoves Adam away from Kate. In the heat of the moment, Adam grabs Sam's shotgun.

"Shoot it!" Sam orders him.

"Adam!" His mother cries. "He's crazy! Honey, it's me!"

Adam points the gun at Kate. At first I'm relieved that he is actually listening, but then he turns it around on my big brother. He is confused and terrified.

"Look—Adam!"

"Honey, it's me!"

"Look, that's not your mother!"

"Baby, please!"

"Shoot it! It's not human!"

Adam levels the gun at his mother. His posture becomes more lenient and calm. He smirks at his mother. "I know."

Adam hits Sam on the chin with the butt of the shot gun. Sam goes down. Kate's smile is enough to send my adrenaline pumping.

Adam comes after me, thinking its going to be that easy. He triggers the gun to shoot. I reach out and grip the barrel. I am able to point the gun up. He shoots and hits the ceiling. I lift my leg and kick him in the stomach. I take the shotgun out of his hand and use it to hit Kate on the side of her head. She falls on her side. I point my gun at Dam and pull the trigger. The gun makes a clicking sound and no bullets are shot. How the hell is thing damn empty. I throw it to the side.

Adam gets hold of one of the kitchen steak knives and starts fighting. I feel like I'm in a ninja movie. I feel the bubbles under my skin. My arms begin to fill with more power with every swing I take out Adam. I blink my eyes silver. I back far away enough. I push my hands out towards him. He goes flying into the wall. I spin my knife in my hand and chuck it at Adam like he is a dart board. It nails him in the stomach.

I don't know what I expect it to do. But it didn't kill him that's for sure. I was about to go at him again until I hear Kate scream at me to stop.

I look over at her. The crazy bitch has a knife held at Sam's unconscious throat. I take a step towards her. She shakes her head with smirk. "Neh-eh-eh. I wouldn't do that if I were you, or else poor Sammy here gets one to the throat."

Dammit. Where is Dean? I couldn't let Sam get hurt. Dean would never forgive me. I would never be able to forgive myself. Except, if I don't keep fighting, then we both die.

I don't have too much time to ponder it. Adam comes up behind me and hits my temple with the end of a blade. I'm knocked out cold.


I wake up on a hard table, tied down with a shit-load of duct tape around my ankles, wrists and waist. Sam stirs awake next to me on a separate table, bound the same way as me.

Kate sits there, humming away while she digs dirt out of her nasty ass fingernails with a knife.

"Silver," Sam struggles and groans. "No wonder none of the tests worked. You're not shapeshifters. Your ghouls."

"You know, I find that term racist," She responds.

"Yeah, I'm sure it's very degrading," I speak sarcastically. I pull on my restraints, but hell do they really know what they are doing.

Kate walks up to Sam's table and sniffs him from hand to neck and begins to nibble on his ear. "Mmm. Fresh meat. So much better that what we're used to."

"Is this some kind of live action ghoul porn?" I say. Kate glares at me. "Oh, I'm sorry . I forgot you don't like to be called what you really are. Does 'fucker' float your boat?"

"I can't wait to get my hands on you," She struts to my table.

"I'm sure I'm quite delicious."

"I never had a meal that was half human half creature." She says. I tense under her stare but I try not to show it. I feel Sam's eyes on me. "What are you anyway?"

"Not a fucking ghoul I can tell you that. That would be degrading."

She raises her hand and slaps me across the face. Whatever ring she is wearing cuts my cheek. A minute later I feel the trail of warm blood.

"I should have known. It was the fresh kills that threw me. Ghouls don't usually go after the living. See, you're just filthy scavengers, feeding off the dead-taking the form of the last corpse you choke down."

"And there thoughts. And their memories," Adam pipes up from where he is seated on the countertop. He hops down. "Like Adam, for instance."

"Well, we are what we eat," Kate smirks.

"Ugly?" I say.

"You're monsters," Sam spits.

Kate draws a knife across Sam's arm, drawing blood. Sam winces. It only makes me want to rip her apart even more.

"You know, you use that word a lot, Sam," Adam says.

Kate begins to drink Sam's blood. I jump when Adam stabs the knife into the table by my head. I clench my jaw.

Kate looks up, around her mouth is covered in my brother's blood. "His blood, it tastes different."

"Our father was a monster?" Adam continues ignoring his mother. "Why? Because of what he ate? He never hurt anyone, Sam. Living, anyway."

Kate walks around to my side of the table. She yanks the knife out. "No. he was no monster. But the thing that killed him was. A monster named John Winchester."

"Hey, that's my father you're talking about there," I defend. She responds with a stab to my side. My mouth opens and a silent yell erupts in my throat. Okay, that hurt. A lot.

Adam digs his finger into the wound. I cant help the tears that threaten to fall. My teeth are clenched and I squeeze my hands so hard the knuckles are white. I star to breathe heavy. I try to regain my power inside, but the pain is too unbearable that it is all I can think about. I cant focus.

"Thanks to your daddy, my brother and I grew up on our own. At least we had each other," Kate explains to Sam.

"Like you and your brother. Inseparable." Adam adds. He licks his bloody finger. His eyes lighten up. "She taste different too."

"Actually, it was very hard to get you on your own," Kate continues.

"Like you said, Sam. The only thing you can count on is family," Adam says.

I turn my head to look at Sam. He's hurt (physically and emotionally) and just disappointed. I think he was excited to have a little brother and to experience the stuff Dean has with him. Having a little sister was just not the same.

Kate is still drinking out of his arm. She looks up and licks her fingers, "And for twenty years, we lived like rats."

"Graveyard after graveyard, all that stinking flesh," Adam rolls his eyes.

"Then we thought, hey, why not move up to fresher game?"

"And we knew just where to start," Adam smirks. HE moves to Sam and digs the point of the knife into the cut in Sam's arm. "Revenge—its never over, is it, Sam?"

"First, it was John's cop friend, and then his slut and then his son."

"Then I called John, but the son of a bitch was already dead."

"Aw boo-hoo," I moan.

"So I guess you, bitchy, and Dean will have to do instead."

"Dean wont interrupt us this time," Adam says. "We're gonna feed on you nice and slow—like we did with Adam."

"Oh, and, by the way, he really was your brother." Kate says. Sam struggles again. "You should know that."

"He was still alive when we took out first bites."

"And he was a screamer."

Kate and Adam each open gashes along one of Sam's arms. Blood drips into bowls that must have been place underneath him for the purpose of catching it.

Sam continues to fight back with out a chance—but he still goes for it.

Adam moves to me next, "Sam, the more you struggle, the faster you're gonna bleed out. So you might as well lie back and relax."

Adam touches the knife to my skin. Goosebumps rise on my arm. I close my eyes ready for the burn. I didn't think I was going to die like this. Was it better than being murdered by an angel or demon? Or was it more pathetic?

"Hey!" Dean shouts from the front door. I pop my head up. Thank the fucking lord. Dean aims the shot gun and fires. Adam hits the wall with a hole through his shoulder.

"Dean, they're ghouls," I try to shout back at him.

Dean pauses. Yeah I don't think he was expecting that either. He then fires at Kate. Blood spatters the wall; her head falls to the ground several feet away from her corpse and collapses.

"Which means head-shot," Dean says to himself.

Adam slams Dean against the wall, breaking a bunch of picture frames. Glass rains down. Dean grabs Adam and throws him down on the ground. He finds a metal bar and raises it. However, Adam dodges the blow and they still fight. Soon, Adam goes down and with all his frustration of the day, he beats Adam's head in.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath in. Thank god.

Dean walks over to me. I shake my head. "No, Dean. Sam's worse. Help him first."

Dean looks over and sees the blood pouring into the bowl. Seeing what I was talking about, he nods. He cuts through the duct tape and grabs a couple of towels. He helps Sam sit up and uses the towels as pressure bandages.

The whole time he's murmuring, "Come on. Come on. Come on. Hang on. All right, here we go. Here we go. Hang on, buddy. All right."

"Thank you," Sam breaths.

"That's what family's for right? Keep pressure on that?" Dean moves to my side. "Did they get you?" Dean holds up more towels, ready to pressure point them somewhere.

"Her side," Sam groans as he hops off the table.

"Where?" Dean asks. "Here?" Dean runs a finger down my side. It's in the exact spot where Kate stabbed me. But I don't feel the sting. I feel skin sliding on skin. Sam walks closer with furrowed eyebrows.

"What is it?" I ask.

"It's gone."


That night, we gathered and lit Adam's actual body on fire. Dean said he deserved to go out like a hunter. Sam tried to suggest that we ask Cas to possibly bring him back. But Adam is in a better place now. We wouldn't want to ruin it for him.

I walk into the motel two days later after grabbing some coffee and bagels for the three of us. Sam and Dean were lazily watching tv or reading new folk lore.

"We need to talk about this," I say. Dean looks at me for a second before turning the tv off. Sam closes his book. "I've been acting like this whole thing—the angel/demon crap that is happening to me—doesn't bother me. But I am so scared." I admit. "I can't even remember the last time I had a glass of water because that is what it has come to."

"Maddie," Sam says quietly.

"I'm going to be a monster," I whisper. I stare into space. "And if that happens, I need someone to promise me that they will take care of it."

"You're not going to turn into a monster, Maddie." Dean speaks lightly.

"You need to promise me."

"Mad—"

"Promise!"

Dean takes a deep breath and looks at Sam. He nods. "I'll take care of it. I always do. I always will."

"So what do you want to do about this?"

I say, "Sam, you said something to me the other day about owning it. You're right. I cant let it control me. I have to control it." I look at Sam. "I think that is step one to conquering this thing."

"Great," Sam says.

"You have to trust me on this, okay? I've tried it before when Dean was in hell and you were god-knows-where. Braden helped me over a dozen obstacle courses—"

"No," Dean stops,

"But he has the most knowledge about what I can and cannot do. He knows how to test my limits and what to throw at me." I look at Dean. "Look, I know he's not your favorite person. He's not mine either. But if I'm going to train myself to take control of my own body, then I want him there. He cares and has been through this with me before." My next words were so easy to say, it scares me. "I trust him."

"Fine," Sam says.

"Sam—" Dean turns his head.

"But one of us should be there. Watch out. That way we have better knowledge of what is going on so we're not caught off guard in any moment."

"You just don't want me to be alone with him," I say.

"It's a bonus," Sam shrugs.

I nod and look at Dean. He feels Sam's stare in the back of his head. He rolls his eyes. "Fine. But I'm coming to ever single one of these meetings. We got Bobby looking up anything he can find, we're gonna hit the library tomorrow. This is coming to an end."

"I'll go call Braden now," I walk towards the door.

Dean's words ring in my head, This is coming to an end. Is there an end? In the end, do I live or do I die? Sadly, they're the only two possibilities and the latter seems more appealing.