Replies to reviews:

Ncsupnatfan: Thank you for your review. The timing does have a small significance, but it will be revealed later. Note that this isn't the first blackout they have experienced and next time they will be a bit more prepared.

Blondie20000: Oh, I wonder whose fic has me thinking about Patrick so much that I just had to mention him, just a wee bit. I am glad you're like Jam now too, that you like how their relationship is building up. That is one awesome song, and every time I hear it I reminds me of Gabriel and the story I planned with him and MJ... Ah that damn long list of ideas... Thanks for the review.

Summer: I adore your work and your ideas and it makes me sad that you aren't just a bit more persistent. I had a bet with Blondie you would mention the sexual tension in the chapter, but even I was surprised by the ice-cream analogy you made. And Pat in Blondie's Change in a Man, it would be interesting, but with Stan there, a bit crowded. I would prefer Stan. I love Stan. Thanks for the review.

Secretwrittenword: Gotta love Sammy's efforts. I know what you're thinking, but no, isn't Gabriel. He is still deceased. *crying* Thanks for the review.

Aisha: Now that something is actually happening, now you decide to sleep?!

Chapter 19: Oh, won't you please take me home?

After helping Dean get in the back, Sara went and sat in the driver's seat, both arms extended firmly gripping the steering wheel, her eyes like lasers darting what was in front of her, beyond the windshield. To her left was the scene of the fire, the yellow glow of the flames shining upon her, but she made no attempt to glance back at it. She seemed like a cold statue, eyes staring blankly somewhere distant, her whole body rigid and her breathing slow, almost nonexistent. Dean felt devastated and uncertain if he should even say anything, if he had the right to..

A part of Dean wished he could just give a pat on the back, a sympathetic look and walk away like he and his brother did so many times after a hunt, after they put the monster down and said their goodbyes to the victim's families. But he couldn't do that, not this time. It isn't just because he didn't take care of the monster. Nor was it because he cared about Sarah a bit more then he was willing to admit to himself. No, it was because this time around, this really was his fault.

A thought crossed his mind that this is just the sort of thing that Chuck would write, but he knew better. He wasn't a puppet anymore and all actions and decisions were his own. Even the decision to pull Sarah into this whole mess. He was the only one to blame.

A part of Dean wished he could just run away. But he knew he had to face the music and try and help Sarah as much as he could, in any way that he could. Naturally, he would understand if she wanted him gone, but he was worried that if that was the case, she would be a target for those vamps that were obviously still around. He needed to protect her.

No, he needed to make himself feel better by saying he will protect her, but so far he hasn't done a very good job of it. Truth was, she has done that so much better. She helped him out of that warehouse, drove them to the hospital and even managed to evade the vampires at the hospital. Maybe he needed her more then she needed him.

A good few minutes passed in silence, not that Dean didn't try to speak. He opened his mouth and after a few seconds he would close it when no words came out. What could he possibly say? Nothing could make this right, nothing ever will. It was her home, her safe haven, her life. And it all perished, consumed by fire. Out of all the ways this could have happened, it just had to be the damn fire.

Finally, Dean heard her sigh, but not in relief, more like she was trying to compose herself, get her bearings in order. It also helped push him along to finally utter something to say.

"I... I'm sorry..." He said, and immediately regretted it, closing his eyes in heavy pain. Who the hell was he to say that to her? What gave him the right to be sorry? She should just kick him out on the curb and be done with him. Sarah didn't reply, but he heard her breath hick-up for a moment and he couldn't just sit there and do nothing. So he swallowed hard and spoke up.

"I... I really am sorry, Sarah. It's all my fault, I should have never pulled you into all of this. I never should have asked for your help, never should have..." He breathed out heavily, feeling tears clouding his vision. "I never should have come to you in the first place. If I didn't, none of this would have happened, you... You wouldn't have been captured and hurt by those sons of bitches or had to watch them..." He was going to say 'beat me up', but maybe now that memory isn't one of the worst in her mind. He felt like he deserved every punch he got.

The worst thing was, after everything that happened, he was glad he didn't have to make eye contact with her, and see that she lost that spark, that joy and innocence he saw in her eyes when he first met her. The one that draw him to her, the one that made him feel like there was hope for him after all. If that spark is completely gone, he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

"I am so, so, sorry, Sarah. I cost you everything. Your life, your... Your home..."

"Home..." She whispered, her shoulders tensing from what Dean could see. His face scrunched up in pain, his lips pinched in a thin line and his eyes so watery, it was a miracle he could see. His chest ached and he just hung his head low, the words lost all meaning now.

"Home..." Sarah repeated, and Dean closed his eyes, wishing he could just drop dead right then and there.

"Home..." She said one more time, her tone different, questioning, curious. She finally brought her gaze down, looking at the steering wheel, like she was contemplating something, trying to figure out why that word has some significance now. Suddenly, she snapped her head back to look at Dean who drew a breath at her movement and she said, not paying attention to the emotions bubbling inside of him for now. "Your... home?"

Dean wasn't sure what she was asking, maybe neither did Sarah, but the first thought that came to mind finally managed to dislodge that tear and it slipped down Dean's cheek. He swallowed, having a even heavier feeling in his chest, as the visions of the fire consuming his childhood home attacked his mind. He looked out at the similar image that was outside and the ache grew, threatening to send him into a fit.

He flinched when she set her hand on his, and it was almost like she was drawing him back to reality, back to now. She looked at him with a touch of warmth in her eyes and spoke "No, not that one... Your home, now." Sarah said, looking uncertain of what she was asking. Dean figured she must be having a psychic thing, trying to figure out a vision she was having or something like that, so he went along, again, not sure if that is what she meant.

"My home, now? Well, we kinda live in a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas... I consider it home. And Baby... I mean, my car... We considered her home almost all of our life..." He said slowly, trying to get himself on that topic. He was confused as to why she was asking this, when she should be crying or yelling or having any reaction to the current situation. Still, he went along, if she was deflecting, who was he to try and stop that?

"That." Sarah said as she put the car in gear and slowly eased into traffic. "That's what we do next. That's where we need to go." She said, nothing but determination written across her face. She drove calmly even after a rude driver tried to cut her off, she didn't show any sign of emotion and Dean feared she was bottling it all up inside. He knew he should get her to talk, try and say something more to her perhaps, but nothing came to mind. Sam was always better at these kinds of things, and now, Dean wished he picked up on some of his brother's antics when it came to comforting.

They drove in silence, Dean deep in his thoughts to register where she was taking them, only realizing that when the big neon sign of the motel came into view. The same motel the vamps kidnapped them from. He knew he'd have to come back here for the car and their stuff, but he never imagined Sarah being bold enough to come back after what happened last time she was here.

But Sarah just parked the car two empty spaces away from the Impala, got out and then turned to help Dean out of the back seat. He limped his way out using the crutches, all the while searching her face for anything sign of emotion, distress, pain, anything. Sarah didn't even make eye contact with him, instead focusing on getting the injured man to the room. She tried to open it, but after finding it locked, she helped Dean lean on the wall next to it and said "Wait here, I'll go talk to the manager." Dean wanted to ask if she would be all right, he wanted to protest, he wanted to say something, anything, but she had already turned around and walked away.

She emerged with the manager a few minutes later, showing him that Dean was in fact in an accident and couldn't get to the reception. After a few explanations and lies, the manager finally gave them back the key which he found in the lock the night before, with the door ajar and no one in sight. Sarah paid what remained of the check. She helped Dean inside, helped him to the bed and then turned around, looking over at the room.

"I'll pack your and your brother's stuff and then we can hit the road." She said, getting to work, picking up Dean's duffel first.

"Sarah…" Dean tried, but was met with a lifted hand that just said don't, and blue eyes that flickered in slight fear. Fear that if she did this now, she would fall apart and not do what she was supposed to. So Dean closed his mouth and sadly watched her pack their stuff, and checking to see if she missed anything. She stopped and looked around, suspicion in her frown as she surveyed the room. Finally, she snapped her head towards the hunter, making him flinch and started walking towards him, a serious look in her eyes. She reached with her hand and Dean didn't know if she was going to hit him, but still he watched her proceed, feeling like whatever she did, he had it coming.

Sarah brushed past him and went to the head of the bed, lifted the pillow and picked up his .45 Colt like she was the one that put it there in the first place. Dean slightly frowned but otherwise made no comment as Sarah shoved the gun in his duffel. Then she extended her hand towards him. "Gimme the keys."

"The… The keys?" Dean asked, confused for a second.

"The keys to the car. I gotta go put this in the trunk." Sarah said, looking towards the door. Dean gulped and paused for only a moment, and then reached into his pants pocket, fished out the keys and dropped them in her hand. Sarah turned and left the room, carrying the duffels and Sam's bag with his laptop and Dean lifted himself off the bed, grunting and darting the floor. When he finally managed to stand up straight, he raised his eyes to the door and with a heavy sigh started walking towards it.

Sarah just finished putting the bags in the trunk and closed the trunk door when Dean emerged from the room and she looked at him, this time not rushing to his side to help him walk, instead observing him as he reached the car. He came up to its right side, right between the passenger and the back door and set his hand on the roof, a pallet of emotions hidden behind those sad greens.

"I know what she means to you…" Sarah said as she circled back to him. "I know she is your home…" She said as she reached Dean whose eyes were still glued to his baby. Sarah put her hand over his and he lifted his gaze towards her. "It is either this, or we leave her here. And I don't want to leave her behind." Sarah said and Dean's eyes searched her face for a moment. "I promise I will take good care of her." Sarah added and finally Dean nodded before reaching to open the back door.

With Sarah's help, Dean climbed into the back seat of his beloved baby and then watched as Sarah sat behind the wheel, glancing back at him reassuringly and then started the car with ease. Baby purred under the psychic's gentle hands and Sarah placed it into reverse, got out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Dean watched her with wonder and faith as she maneuvered the car in the busy streets of Miami, heading for I-75, the interstate that will lead them to Lebanon. In 25 hours of constant driving, give or take. He watched her closely, not knowing what was going on in her mind, and how could she just be ok after what happened. It wasn't until they went past city limits that he heard her suck in a sharp breath and then slowly release it.

Dean went to utter her name in a questioning tone, but before he got the chance, she answered it already. "I'm good, Dean. Really." She let that linger, pausing to glance at him in the mirror before focusing on the road.

"You shouldn't feel guilty, but I know nothing I say will prevent you from feeling like that." She said and Dean's brows furrow in slight emotional pain. "Don't do that. You're just as much to blame as me." Sarah said and Dean's head shot up.

"This wasn't your fault!" Dean almost shouted and before he could say more, she retorted back.

"Neither was yours!" She said and breathed out, calming herself and the situation. "I know what you're thinking. If you haven't asked for my help, none of it would have happened, am I right?" Dean said nothing, bringing his gaze back on his lap and giving out a small nod of confirmation she couldn't possibly see, but knew he did it anyway.

"Then I could have prevented it too, by refusing to help. I am a psychic, I should have seen it coming. I should have seen them coming…" She said with a pinch of disappointment and blame of her own.

"Sarah..." Dean spoke, trying to convey that he could never blame her for what happened in the warehouse, the way he said her name was enough for her to practically read his mind.

'I know, I know… My point is, we could play the blame game all the way home, but it isn't going to help anyone. And honestly… I don't feel bad about that place burning down…" Sarah said, not even sure of her own words.

"You're… You're not?" Dean asked with great confusion and a bit of shock.

"Yeah…" She said and then glanced at the mirror again, seeing the look on Dean's face, she quickly went to explain. "No, no, don't get me wrong. It was… My house, it was the place that welcomed me when no other would. And , yeah, I felt safe there, I felt like… I could be myself, just a bit. It knew my secrets. But it… It was never really my home, it never felt like that. Sometimes it felt like a prison, tying me to the belief that… That I am a freak and I should hide what I can do."

"But now… Now that it is gone… I… I almost feel… I feel like I'm free. Free to do what I want, how I want. Free to be me." She huffed a smile and glanced back at Dean, seeing some understanding there now, and then added "You know what? You can go back to blaming yourself. Cuz, yeah, it is your fault. It is your fault that I feel free… You showed me that it is ok to be what I am, to be me, and that I can use it to help… I could never thank you for that."

Dean huffed a smile too, but the worry remained on his face. She might claim she was fine, but she might not see it yet, she might not feel it yet, but eventually it will get to her. The loss of it, and especially the way she way she lost it – fire… It seems to be a common thing with them, and Dean couldn't help but see the connection to them, to Sam once more. Especially since both of their lives were marked by not one, but two fires.

The one that killed their mother and the one that got Sam into hunting again. And if Dean didn't know better he would think that this whole thing was a manipulation of sorts. But this time there was no Azazel, there wasn't even God to make it happen just to throw Sarah into this world. Not that Dean knew for sure she would stay in this world, not that he wanted her too. Shit, this was all just a bit too complicated now.

"What about… What about your father?" Dean asked and he could see her face taking on a slightly paler tone.

"He… He would just have to live with my decision." She said, her tone ending all discussion on the subject. Later when they stopped for food or restroom, she would pick up her cracked phone and call him, getting yet another voicemail, and leaving a message saying she was sorry for what happened, she was sorry for the fire and sorry for the house, but that she had every intention of following her own path from now on. She would end the call and put the phone into her pocket, never noticing that when she locked the screen, the phone completely froze, malfunctioning after all abuse it took.

After a few minutes of deafening silence, Sarah almost snorted before bursting out. "Ok, how about some music?" She said and turned the radio on, choosing some radio station with really cheery dance music. Dean frowned at her choice.

"I have some cassettes if you want… There's AC/DC and Metallica and…" He tried but got shot down.

"Sorry, I drive, I get to choose the music. Besides, we need something sing-able…" She said and upped the volume, singing along…

"When I kissed you, girl, I knew how sweet a kiss could be
(I know how sweet a kiss can be)
Like the summer sunshine pour your sweetness over me
(Pour your sweetness over me)"

Sarah sang and Dean couldn't help but think back on his dream, on that beach and their kiss that seemed so real and so sweet, Dean's heart ached to feel it again. He just couldn't believe the strength a small shy creature like Sarah could have, the bravery and the resolve to see all this through. He couldn't, not for a second, think that maybe, just maybe she was doing this for him, that she just might care enough to be his rock and help him find his brother.

Sarah sang more, and Dean couldn't help but smile, seeing just a bit of that spark return to her eyes, that goofiness he is already starting to adore. So he leaned and listened to her sing, feeling just a bit more relaxed, but not without worries. And Sarah sang, sang and fought the tears that were clouding her vision, she wouldn't let them fall. No, she needed to stay on track and she needed to learn more about herself and what she could do, and most of all, she needed to help Dean. She needed to learn what were all those things suffocating the poor boy inside of him, and rip them all apart. She did not know why she needed to do that, she just knew she did. And she knew, right now, she had to sing...

"Sugar... Oh, honey, honey... You are my candy girl... And you got me wanting you..."