A/N: So I've been able to keep up with season 9 and I'm just so excited for it I can't wait.

2007 January

Part 2

South Dakota – Sioux Falls

"I'm back!"

"How'd it go?"

Sam. Not who she was expecting. "Hey Sam." Charlotte shook off her coat and nodded her head. "How'd what go?"

"Bobby let it slip." She stared at him and Sam nodded his head to the side, "About your Mother."

"Oh. Well, you know, it was quiet, strange, weird, creepy, erm."

"Right," Sam caught the drift she was pitching. She'd rather not talk about her talking to her mother's grave. "Sorry." He held a hand up. "Your business."

She rolled her eyes at that last point and took a beer from the fridge. "Whatever. You need me I'll be outside."

"Are you okay?"

She stopped at the back door and turned. Her mind was still working over what she'd learnt, over Matthew and how he'd spoken about her. There was something off in the way he spoke ofher not quite about her. The longer the drive had taken the more time she had to think about how he didn't mention anything like a smell, a certain smile, a certain way of dressing, anything. Just what she did, what she enjoyed doing and what she loved to do. Nothing personal about her.

A big grin was plastered across her face. "I'm fine." And she turned, let the grin fall and stepped out into the cold winter air. Working on cars let her think. Let her mind wander and focus on the small details whilst keeping her hands busy. At the moment there sat a half-finished engine in the hood of an old 1997 Lincoln Town Car. It was something to keep her busy.

She let thoughts circle her mind. Matthew. Matthew. Matthew. There was something niggling the corners of her mind. But what? She couldn't figure it out. He seemed familiar yet he wasn't. "Matthew, Matthew, Matthew." She scratched her brain trying to find a memory, anything linked to that name.

"Who's Matthew?"

She cursed as she bumped her head on the propped open hood. Dean stood to the side, one brow cocked and a lopsided smirk across his face. Hands were dug into his pockets. "A guy."

"You meet him in the cemetery?"

Charlotte rolled her eyes and turned away to grab a new tool. "He knew my Mum alright?" She turned and refused to look at him. "I thought he looked familiar so I was trying to figure out where I'd seen him before." The force she put into the tool on the engine was too loud and she could feel Dean look at the source. One thing she hated at times was having to explain herself.

"Okay. What'd you learn?"

"Stuff. Regular old crappy stuff anyone in that town who knew her could've said!" She turned and faced him. Dean was leaning away from her, his face screwed up into something she couldn't read. Right now she wished she'd never left the state. Things would've been a whole lot easier if she'd never gone. Her brain wouldn't be trying to sort out the mess circling her mind.

After three seconds she turned, slammed down the tool, polished off the beer and moved back into the house. The bottle was dropped into the bin and she grabbed her keys. Today was going to be one of those days where she needed her space, her time, just some peace away from everybody and everything. Sam only frowned his eyes at her and she refused to look further as she yanked her jacket off the hook and left.

Sam turned to the window and watched as her car peeled away. "What?" Seconds later his brother joined him in staring out of the window. The taller brother turned and said, "What did you do?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and held his hands up. "I didn't do anything! She started shouting at me!"

"Why?"

The older Winchester stared at his brother with an upturned face. "You think this is my fault?"

"Well you're the one who pisses her off the most."

"I just asked her about her trip Sammy! That was it! Next thing I know she's yelling at me like it's my fault and then she storms into here and off." He took a breath and turned his eyes away from his brother. "She say where she was going?"

"No. Just left."

"Great."

"Yeah, well you can tell Bobby."

"I've got a better idea." He pulled his keys out of his pocket. "I follow her."

Sam didn't get a chance to say anything as Dean followed suite out the door, into his Impala and peeled away. He sighed and ground his teeth together with his hands on his hips. A set of feet on the stairs had him turning to see Bobby looking about in confusion. "The hell's with all the yelling? And where is everyone?"

Sam was going to kill his brother.

Three hours later and Charlotte had her hands behind her head and her eyes on the ceiling. She was pissed at herself. Angry and pissed. There was a large gap in her memory and it was pissing her off to no end. And now she was shouting at Dean and storming out like a teenager. "Ugh," she rolled over and grabbed the beer on the bedside table.

A knock on the door paused her drinking and she eyed the wooden item. The knock came again. Silently she put the bottle back down, grabbed the handgun from next to it and stood. She stalked to the curtains and pulled the edge away just enough to peer out. Dean, stretched forward with his hands on the frame. "Fuck," she whispered. With a sigh she threw her gun onto the bed and unlocked the door. "How'd you find me?"

He didn't say anything for several moments and Charlotte almost closed the door in his face. When he did move it was sudden and took her by surprise with the determination on his face. He placed both hands against her cheeks, kicked her door closed and walked her back until her back hit the wall.

Her heart thumped for several reasons. 1, she was scared. 2, concerned and worried were lumped together. 3, she'd never seen him look at her with such force before. 4, it was turning her on. She swallowed an awkward lump. "Dean," she managed.

He pressed himself close to her, keeping his hands on her cheeks. He gently pressed his forehead to hers and looked at her. "Talk to me," he whispered.

She fumbled for words. Mouth worked to try to say something, but her breath wouldn't reach her voice. Her fingers clung to his jacket as her mind tried to make up its mind. The heat from his body, the closeness of his mouth and him… her libido won out. She pushed her mouth to his, grabbed onto his neck and pulled him in.

Hungry. Desperate. Needing. The one thing that made sense. She wanted Dean. He had no problem in reciprocating as he let his jacket drop to the floor. Shoes were kicked off as hands fumbled with belts and buttons and they made their way to the bed.

Almost an hour later silence embalmed them with the warmth of each other and their breathing.

He lifted his eyes to find hers locked onto him. "Dean," she whispered. His mouth drowned out any other words and he cupped her face with one hand.

"Come here," he pulled out, rolled onto one side and pulled her against him, her back against his chest. He nuzzled the back of her neck with his nose, his eyes closed and whispered, "What's wrong with you?"

Silence.

More silence.

"Hey," he tried a little louder.

She turned her head over her shoulder and eyed him. After a moment she sighed and turned her head away from him and pushed herself further against him. "I can't remember the first five years of my life. Nothing until kindergarten in Wyoming. And Mum's buried in Montana. I don't. I don't remember anything about her. Just that one day she- she wasn't there. And that was it."

"Nothing?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't remember anything about Montana, Mum being a teacher, her singing, Matthew, her and Dad together." She rolled to face him and he could see the tears starting in the corner of her eyes. "What kind of kid can't remember their Mum?"

"Come here," he whispered, pulling her into him. Tears stained his chest and he held her close. He could remember a lot of things about his own mother. If he somehow didn't have a single memory of her he had no idea what he would do. He couldn't imagine how she was feeling. "We'll figure it out Charlotte. I promise. We'll figure it out."