Easily soothed by being granted a couple cookies, Dean proposed they all play one of the ridiculous board games he'd seen on a shelf. This passed much of the remainder of the night, finishing off the cookies Jessica had made, going through several of the games. Talk consisted of teasing and arguing and embarrassing stories and name calling and obscene claims to victory.

Nudging Sam, Jessica smiled over at Dean, leading to Sam rolling his eyes. Catching it, Dean grinned and winked over at her. And Jessica laughed, shaking her head at his antics.

"Oh, that reminds me. Someone was disappointed to find out they missed you when they stopped by yesterday, Red. Bet you he'd like your hair today too."

Mildred wrinkled her nose and rolled the die. Without saying who, she knew whom Jessica was referring to. While some girls may appreciate the type of comments Dean made, compliments in general, Mildred tended to feel wrong receiving them.

"Oh?" Dean perked up, like a dog alerted to a treat bag shaking. "Looks like Jesse's got some competition. Who's the guy?"

Plus, she'd been too taken aback by how their first meeting went to ever feel anything but slightly creeped out by him. On edge whenever he came over to speak to her specifically in the group. He'd gotten too uncomfortably close and overly appreciative, following her to ask her out, before Sam came jogging over to meet up with her at the café spot on campus. Since then, the guy had backed off, but still made it clear he was interested if she every changed her mind.

Jessica thought Mildred should give him a chance, seeing their friend being earnest and hopeful. But Sam, seeing how off put Mildred had been, tended to linger a short distance from them when his friend was around. Apparently, the guy had gone through something middle of his second year of college, and had gone through a serious of questionable hookups and drugs before getting his head back on straighter. Thanks to Sam and Jessica and a few others sticking it though to help him through it. Great for him. But Mildred just wasn't interested.

Which really was not out of the realm of usual for her.

"Oh, uh." Mildred caught the under the table shifting, the minute shake of a head from Sam, and Jessica gave a false smile. A slight laugh. "Oh, just a friend of ours that's a big complimenter."

Eyes raising up in thought, Dean nodded. "Huh. Yeah. Red's bad with that. Probably not a bad thing to get used to. You should take a night of compliments from the guy," he turned to instruct Mildred. Then listed off a series of tips on his fingers. "Flirt. Hold hands. Kiss. Maybe more. Oh. Take the free meal too."

"Dean," Sam groused. "Leave Red alone about it. Besides, she's not interested."

"Not talking up your friend?" Eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, Dean stared at Sam. "He that ugly?"

"Dean!"

"Why did he stop by?" Mildred asked Jessica.

"Wanted to have a celebratory drink with Sam over the 174 since he had to work Monday night."

Jessica glanced over to Sam. Thereby interrupting the faces and glares and hand gestures going on between him and Dean. Sam instantly swung his attention to Jessica. Dean made a whipping movement in Sam's direction.

"I told Brady I'd text him when you got back so he could stop by when he was free again."

"Cool." Sam's head snapped back around, eyes narrowed. "I saw that Dean."

Dean immediately looked away, whistling. Smirking, Sam swept his hand in a circle, directing Dean's attention back and to the board. "You do realize Red's last roll of the die means you died, right?"

Blinking rapidly, it took Dean a moment to take in the die and placement of the pieces. "Son of a bitch. Screw all this. Let's play some real games. Card games."

"I'm afraid I've been warned against that by playing both Sam and Red," Jessica informed Dean. "And, it's getting rather late. I've got morning classes tomorrow and probably need to run through my flashcards a few more times.

"Flashcards?" Dean's face wrinkled. "Oh, there are things so much better than flashcards. I remember this one girl from high school quizzing me and with every question right, she would—"

"Did I tell you Red has an updated picture of Dean for us? It's even got me in—"

Pieces on the game boards skittered and toppled, a couple going right off the table with the force of Dean's palm strike to it. "I still know where you sleep! You and Red and your sexy Jessica Rabbi—"

"DEAN!"

Laughing, Jessica stood up from the table, swinging her head back down to plant a kiss to Sam's cheek. "Don't worry. I love you more than any woman's loved a rabbit. I'm going to take a quick shower and get ready for bed. Couch is ready for you Red and I set up the air mattress next to it for Dean. Don't be up too long, Sam."

Whole body leaning in the chair, Dean watched Jessica go, breathless and admiring. "She quoted from the movie… Sam." Delight not fading, his face was resolute, not looking away from Sam as he pointed to where Jessica disappeared. "Yes. Just…yes."

Mildred's chest shook, entertained. "Hey, Sam. I think dumbass here approves of Jess."

"Turd."

"Jerk," Mildred and Sam unisoned.

Eyes rolling, Dean's face lost the trace of hilarity. "So. Tomorrow morning. I'm figuring on checking on any storms past Carson City that may have happened today. See if there were any early morning ones past that, track Dad this way. Since he's still not picking up his phone or listening to his voice mail."

Sam frowned. "How do you know Dad's not listening to his voice mail?"

"Because I doubt he'd take Red bitching at him laying down." At Sam's stunned face, Dean nodded. "Yeah. About the same reaction from me when she informed me of that. Way too much time with Bobby."

"Way to go."

"Don't congratulate her for half following your example. She's older than you."

"Half?"

"Bitched on our behalf. Not hers."

"Yours," she corrected.

Making a face at her specifically stating she stood up for him, Dean hastened over and onwards. "I say we start the drive first thing in the morning. Call up Bobby too. Get his two cents about this."

"I gave him a call last night," Mildred said. Shrugged at her brothers' questioning gazes. "Had the same thoughts as I did about it. Historically, nope, not a demon. Bobby said he'd look into it anyway for us. I can give him a call and bring him up to speed on what we found, while he shares anything he may have found out."

Dean nodded once. Approving. "Right. Got a plan then."

"I think it's a case of Dad being Dad. We're the ones reading into things now. The man's probably just driving up to those coordinates he gave Dean. Dean. Nothing to do with us. He's clearly fine and not in Jericho. I'm staying here," Sam declared. "Look. It's not like I didn't…enjoy our roadtrip together. But Dad wanted me to stay gone and I've got my interview coming up I need to prep for. I can't just leave on a goose chase of following Dad and doing gigs."

"'Cause you got your own gig here?" Dean finished sourly. He sucked in his lips, clearly upset.

"Yeah, Dean. I do."

"Are you two idjits going to start this up again?"

"Ah-ha!" Dramatically spinning and pointing, Dean wagged his finger. Twice. Two jerky shakes at Mildred. "There's the idjit missing from last night!"

Brows furrowed, Sam stared at Dean, a reflective look on his face. "Again? Dean. I already said I'm not against you visiting me. You can always come back. Just, you know, I'm going to protect what I've worked for here."

Dean let out a long sigh, looking away from Sam. "Well. At least you're not completely stupid about it. I've got a keen eye. Spotted a few protective marks worked into the rugs, a few scratched in on the wood. And those things at the doors and windows to keep cold out filled with salt by the smell of them."

"Draft stoppers."

Dean's eyes rolled. "Whatever."

"Red made them for us."

His eyebrows rose up, approvingly. "Starting a career in interior decorating are we, Red? Actually, that isn't really a bad idea… Door to door salesman of cleverly designed run-of-the-mill household items, doubling as paranormal protection. Real money to be had from our kind of work."

"Then pay me real money because I have plans to line Baby Imp with them," Mildred informed him. Hand out for the cash. "Gimmie."

Mouth dropping from aghast outrage, a gasping noise echoed up from Dean's throat. Sam snorted, laughing into a fist. "Dean. She's got a point. Do you want Imp possessed by a ghost again?"

"S-shuddup! I…I'm trying to work out how I can make it work with Baby's interior in my head! Baby! For the millionth and—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. The living room is over here. Jess already pumped the air mattress up, but left the air pump next to it for you."

Dean stalked after Sam. "Don't you 'yeah, yeah, yeah' me, Sammy! You know full well her name is Baby!"

"Yeah. Baby Imp."

"Just Baby! No Imp! So disrespectful to the sleek black glory that got you back here in one piece! A tough girl! Got you back even with injuries done to her by Constance!"

At the doorway, Mildred watched her brothers, a smile lingering on her face at their antics. Sam was poking at the air mattress, moving around it, pausing to point out the place the air pump connected to underneath the blanket laid out on it. Dean was following Sam as he circled the mattress, insistent on making his point known, incensed by Sam not even bothering to look at him while he spoke.

"Fine. I'll make sure to buy her an air freshener to show my appreciation." After offering his paltry token to appease Dean, Sam looked up from the air mattress. "I'm going to head to bed. I'll let Jess know you'll be leaving in the morning."

"I'm coming back! Those cookies are to die for!" Dean prodded the air mattress with his toe. "How can air be this solid?"

Fighting a laugh at Dean's dumbfounded moment going on as he pressed harder into the mattress, attempting to find a give on something he so clearly expected to be soft, Mildred turned away.

"What an idiot," Sam commented as he passed by her. He looked back, shaking his head, chuckling. "Uh. What about you Red? Are you going with Dean? Or staying here?"

His voice was hopeful.

"I should probably go with him." She glanced back into the living room to find Dean giving the air mattress a test kick. Then back to Sam, apologetic. "I've been the one talking with Bobby, a stronger connection to the Roadhouse to help him find Dad. Help settle Dean's mind about him. They parted on…odd terms right before that case in New Orleans. It's probably fine. Just lots of little strange things adding up to niggle. I should probably take my chance to talk to Dad. About my message and everything from the last few years. I've been wanting to. To get things out in the open, talk and discuss, but well…"

"Hey." Sam fixed her with a dead serious gaze. "I am completely behind Bobby and his threat about Dad showing up anywhere near his place with you there. And Dad could have easily picked up the phone when you called or answered your notes left at the Roadhouse. Which you offering him that chance is way more than what that man deserves. It's not on either of us about him not bothering to see or speak to us all this time."

Mildred shrugged. "Still our dad."

"Still an unmindful one and enough of a stubborn jackass. You take care. Hold your ground. And you can always call me if you need to. Not want, need. I know Dean will be with you. But Dean, well, Dean follows Dad and looks up to the man. He's not likely to… My phone is open. Even if you call me on Monday in the middle of my interview."

Ducking her head, Mildred mumbled.

"You'll try not to? Red. Seriously. Call. Dean isn't wrong. I can't imagine Dad taking your voice mail bitching him out well." He shook his head, amazed. "You really called and bitched him out? Speaking up and trying to be helpful, to look on some bright side or silver lining, insisting on something helpful like the thing with Dean and me last night? Yeah. I can believe that. But straight up yelling at someone? At Dad?"

"That note Dad left?" Mildred swallowed, licking her lips. "It wasn't just a note ripped out of his journal. It was in his journal. Left it there. The whole journal. For Dean. And the picture he always puts up? It was still in the motel room too. And Dean's jacket? The one Dad gave him? Dean didn't have it in New Orleans. I'm pretty sure he gave it to Dad after the oddness, more about the topic of Dad doing more and more cases solo without Dean, Dean handling his own. Well, some with me, but. I'm sorry. I really do not see Dean taking all of that well."

Sam grimaced. "You snuck the journal into your duffle too, didn't you?"

Nodding, Mildred double checked to make sure Dean was still entertaining himself in the living room. "What I want to do is to hand the journal, with the picture, back into his hands without Dean knowing. Jacket is a little harder to explain away. Maybe a simple leaving it with the note, but, yeah."

"Doesn't paint a picture that Dean would take well. At all. Yeah. You be sure to call me Red. I think I need to know too. Call me when you two find Dad. And good luck. You're going to need it dealing with Dad and all of that."

Rocking her head, a slight back and forth that meant nothing other than acknowledgement, Mildred fished her cell phone out of her pocket. "Speaking of calls, I'm going to call Bobby. Before it gets too much later for him."

"Tell me about it in the morning before you and Dean head off. Night, Red."

"Night, Sam."

Sam's hand reached out as he went, the lights flickering, and he flipped the light switch down. His footsteps grew softer as he went. A short time later, the hallway lights went off too. And the phone stopped ringing in Mildred's ear.

"Do you know what time it is here girl?"

Automatically smiling at the gruff complaint, as Bobby had still answered, Mildred walked into the living room to see Dean giving the blanket on the couch a stink eye. Looks as though he finally discovered she had a matching maroon plush one here. He motioned, outraged, gesturing and mouthing 'what's this shit' at her.

"Hey, Bobby. It was getting late here and I hadn't heard back from you today. Was wondering if you found anything to give credit to Dad's apparent theory."

"Not a blasted thing. But it is an interesting theory, as foolhardy as he is." Bobby broke off into irritated grumbles away from the mouthpiece. Or Mildred assumed as she couldn't pick up exactly what he said. Either way, likely not complimentary to their dad. "It's not as though all demonic omens are picked up in the news. Some aren't worked out until later, after the demon has been. Like crop failures in the middle of winter. Not noticed until snow melts, isn't it? Hard to pin down a time. Which makes it an interesting theory. I picked through all written cases you used in your set, dug up your notes and my notes on any past demonic happenings, trying to see if there could be anything to the idea. Didn't get anything. Everything is same day."

Mildred covered her mouthpiece, repeating it over at Dean, whom was clearly listening as he glanced over the bookshelf. "Past demonic omens line up. Same day." Paused. "Discounting the facts of something like crop failure not spotted during times of snow."

He shot her a thumbs up. Eyes continuing to flicker between her and the bookshelf. She took her hand off the mouthpiece.

"We did find a possible repeat in Sacramento. With an electric storm on one day, two days later having a possible mutilation. Well, intestinal issues leading to death for cattle. Same as the article Dad had from 1983. That there were intestinal issues for livestock. Not much."

"Oh my god," Dean's voice cut in. "That's the picture they have of me?"

Ignoring him with a roll of eyes and a smile, Mildred continued sharing their finds to Bobby. "The following day had an electric storm mentioned in Carson City. Like it's moving. Scattered storms were a chance in the forecast, but… But still—"

"You can't shake the idea out of your mind? Neither could I. After I got done being pissed at him being an idiot running off on half-baked ideas instead of known facts. It'll take time. I've spent most the afternoon, evening, and night working on it around other things I got going. But to spread out across the whole country and all these years? Gave a call over to the Roadhouse to see if Ash could finagle up some program to—"

Loud and guttural, a terror filled bellow cried out. "NO!"

"Sam!"

Panicked, Mildred turned, sprinting.

"Jess!"

Vaguely she aware of Dean on her heels, suddenly finding herself at the bedroom, smacking into Sam's broad backside. Grabbing him, she kept her balance and motion, making it around him. Destination of the bathroom. Except the sheer heat had her skidding to a stop and looking to the source.

The air up at the ceiling shimmered, like heat off the blacktop in the summer. Except this was November. And a bedroom ceiling. With Jessica sprawled across it, stuck and pinned there, her mouth moving soundlessly. Horror dried Mildred's eyes, going wide and getting blasted with heat. There was a bloody line of red rapidly standing out against the white gown Jessica wore. A drip splashed down.

And then the shimmering ceiling, Jessica included, burst into flame.

"Jess! No! No!"

"Sam! MILLIE!"

Up on the bed, Mildred already had her arms thrust upwards, grabbing a hold of Jessica's dangling digits. Grasping a hold of her whole hand. Pulling. Grabbing further up Jessica's arm.

Mildred gritted her teeth.

Jessica was going to be fine. Jessica was going to live. Jessica was going to be fine.

Flames snapping and cracking out farther outwards, sizzling over Mildred's own bare arms. Threatening to catch onto the edge of her comfy sleeping shirt. Tingling. Burning. She screamed, coughed, and furiously yanked and yanked and yanked.

"Red!"

"No! No!"

"Stay! Red!"

Arms grabbed a hold of Mildred, wrapping around her legs. She refused to let go, gripping tighter onto Jessica. Dean screamed at her. Legs lifted off the bed, Mildred frantically clung onto Jessica with one arm and reached up higher, Dean desperately trying to pull them apart. A game of tug-of-war. Using Mildred. Stakes fiery high. Jessica on the brink of dying like their mom had. Death by unnatural fire. Mildred unwilling to allow that.

She was not going to allow that. Jessica was going to be fine, she was going to live. Jessica was not dying. Certainly not today and certainly never this way.

And then another hand shot up. A large one. Familiar as her own.

"SAM! GODDAMNIT RED, LET GO!"

The fire was all Mildred could see practically. Spreading too far and too fast along the ceiling. Heat burning, Mildred blinked furiously against it, not willing to look away from Jessica who's mouth was not moving and body slackening.

"NO!" She screamed. Jessica's body slackened, loose, limp. Determination swelled. "PULL!"

Another large hand came up and, as one, they yanked. Dean yanked at Mildred. Mildred yanked at Jessica's upper arm. And Sam yanked Jessica's hand and forearm.

Mildred tumbled back. Jessica peeling off the ceiling and falling to the bed, sending her back through the momentum and Dean's helpful arms. Arms burning, Mildred pushed herself up off of Dean and the floor, racing to the bed. The entire room was practically engulfed, the edges a ring of fire more than a bedroom anymore. But Mildred wasn't going to leave Jessica there. Sam was already grabbing fistfuls of blanket, wrapping it around to snuff out any flames, and scooping Jessica up.

Panicky, Mildred helped, frantically looking for signs of life. An eye flutter. A movement of chest. Anything. Sam's large hands scrambled, fingers going to her neck, absolute terror on his face.

Both of them nearly choked, something grabbing a hold of the back of their shirts.

The fire from above and around snapped angrily along their backs and sides and everywhere.

"Out! Out! Out! NOW!"