Arms tingling, wrapped up in bandages, Mildred kept a ginger hold of Jessica's hand. Second degree burns. Between all of them, a mixture of second and first degree burns. Some smoke inhalation to keep an eye on. Any medical person involved were amazed it was not worse. Especially for Jessica with how much area the burns covered. Her entire back and shoulders. Long wavy blonde hair was left to only a few sparse clumps framing her face. And Jessica's stomach had that long cut across it. One long scratch. Not deep. Internal organs a-okay.

Thank god. Or someone keeping an eye out for them. Words of a few of the medical people that'd helped treat Jessica and them. Well, mostly Mildred and Sam.

Dean had some very strong language to use at them. And certainly no thanking of any hint of a miracle. He'd done the work to get them out. And they'd worked against him. Dean was pissed. Happy Jessica survived, but still pissed at them.

It was likely more of a matter of him being terrified at losing either of them. Because he kept hovering near them. Barking at them to not separate and to stay together. Which made running out for salt and the pentagrams they'd brought back from Dad's motel room in Jericho a bit difficult. Because neither Sam nor Mildred wanted to let Jessica out of their sights.

Jessica was going to be fine. It wasn't that bad. She was going to heal and be fine and live.

Mildred shifted her hand to grasp Jessica's hand better.

"You okay?" Hoarse and rough, Sam's voice took her by surprise. She glanced over to him. Where he sat next to her, a hand resting beside Jessica's head, careful to not touch or jostle. It was the first he'd spoken since the fire happened. The longest she'd seen him take his eyes off of Jessica. "You kind of…winced."

"Just tingles. That's all."

Along with exhaustion and feeling drained, emotionally and physically, from the past few hours. But she offered Sam a smile. The look of concern remained. If anything, pinched a little more.

"And look off color. Pale. You can…you can lay down, sleep, if you need."

Lifting the hand from her lap, Mildred rested it gently onto Sam's arm near her. The one with a strip of gauze across the back of it. Healing well. Only first degree. He'd not had either arm near the flames as long as she had had her own. Ignoring the tingle from touching his arm, Mildred rubbed his arm, soothingly.

"I'm okay."

"Sam's not wrong," Dean spoke up suddenly. He stepped closer, still in the pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt he'd put on after they'd researched at the apartment. Before the fire. Mildred looked away from Dean's green gaze on her. "You look pale and drawn. Sleep wouldn't be a bad idea. Because you're one to talk Sammy. You got some bags under those eyes. Both of you need to get some sleep. There's a couch right outside, just around the corner. Jessica is stable. You're allowed to rest befor—"

"No." Sam's refusal was sharp and quick. With no elaboration.

"Come on." Dean's tone was stern and wheedling. "At least leave the room for a little bit. Get some grub. Freshen up. You said her parents were going to be here soon, right? And we've got pentagrams up, salt sprinkled across the top of the doorframe, a couple crowbars in the room and I'm packing."

"Won't do anything again—"

"It makes me feel better, Red. And we still don't know for sure what it is, so it very well could do something." Dean snipped over. He took a steadying breath. "Look. One of us will stay here. We'll take turns. Otherwise we'll all be asked to leave at some point. You need to get out of this room, Sam. Just for a while."

"I'm staying. Red can—"

"You're the youngest. The one who gets cranky on lack of sleep and food."

"I do not."

"Ah, point, proven. Come on. Quick stop to the bathroom, wash off, head to the café here to get some food. We'll even come right back up here to eat it instead of there. Be like, ten minutes. Then you get alone time with Jessica here while Red and I lockdown on anything else we can think of to deter whatever this thing is. Whaddya say?"

Sighing, Sam asked him a rhetorical question. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

Dean's eyebrow rose up, as if that had been the stupidest question anyone had asked him. "No. Let's go. Chop chop."

Slowly standing up, Sam bent to murmur into Jessica's ear, pressing a careful kiss to her unburned—but clearly reddened—cheek. "All right. No more than ten minutes."

"I'll keep an eye on her Sam," Mildred assured him.

Eyes welling, a tear trickled down into a shaky smile at her. Bending again, Sam wrapped his long arms in a hug, mindfully doing so just below Mildred's shoulders. Above where her burns ended on her arms. Muffled and husky, he croaked out a thank you into her hair.

"It's not that—"

Sam pulled his face back, shaking his head inches from her own face. "No. I…I froze up," he choked out. "If it wasn't for you running in and grabbing Jess, she could be…"

Frozen, Mildred gazed back into Sam's emotional face, checks reddening. She quickly looked down. At a loss for words, her mouth moved soundlessly, not sure what to do with Sam's words.

"Are you trying to cheat on your ten minutes? Because I'm not starting the stopwatch until both your feet are outside of this room."

Pulling back all the way, Sam stood and went to the door, glancing back to get a last look a Jessica before he followed Dean out of the hospital room. Mildred reaffixed her hand on Jessica. Her other hand went to her side, the side away from the door, the side that was beside the chair Sam had just vacated. Checking that the crowbar was still there.

If anything came, she was going to be ready. Even if it was going to rip bandages and tear the freshly healing skin of her palms. They'd heal in time. And it would not be the only scar. She'd rather have these burns scarring than the ones she sported already.

It was soothing. The feel of Jessica's warm hand under her own. The rhythmic sound of the monitors. There was something grounding to it. A moment of peace. After Dean's concern, dragging both her and Sam on a hunting gig. After Dad's oddness. After the grinding start of Dean and Sam moving past their argument. After the strange novelty of them all being together. After coincidences. After a repeat from twenty-two years past.

Well. Not quite a repeat. Mildred smiled at Jessica.

Jessica. Who had survived and would live. Burned, but treatable. Not as badly as Mildred had feared once they'd figured out she was still breathing. The fire had been unusual, quick, but the spread across the ceiling had been even. Perhaps the way the fire was had something to do with the degree of burns? Or them managing to get Jessica down before it really engulfed the ceiling?

She could spend a very long time trying to work out the how and why, but the end result was—happily—the same. Jessica was here. She was healing. And would be fine. No need to overthink or question that. As far as a silver lining went, this was a lining the size of Sam. Of Stanford. Of the whole state of California. Of Dean's love of pie.

"Knock, knock. Can I come in?"

Without waiting for the answer, the owner of the jaunty voice strode inside. Fingers tightening around the crowbar at her side, Mildred's head spun to see one of Sam and Jessica's friends. Perfect white teeth flashing, he graced her with a smooth smile. Her grip on the crowbar tightened.

Great. Of course this was the first of their friends to show up.

"What a…pleasant surprise. I was positive Jess would be far worse."

Positive? Shouldn't it be 'I was afraid'? Positive was a strange choice of words. She shifted in the chair, sliding her feet to burst up if need be. Strange choice of words and humor over his enjoyment in horror campfire stories wasn't off brand, but this was not a story. This was Jessica. He was giving her more reasons than usual to want to get out of his presence or to whack him over his perfectly coifed head of hair.

"Brady," she greeted him tersely.

"I mean, the state of their apartment and the fact I had to…hm, get creative about crossing any lines." His white teeth flashed wider at her, delighted as he waved a hand.

An invisible hand gripped Mildred tight, picking her up, boldly throwing her up against the wall. Her crowbar clattered loudly onto the ground. Terrified and alarmed, any functional thought process went out the window with panic.

Another wave of his hand slammed the door shut.

"I really shouldn't have been surprised. Not with you." Sucking in a heady breath, Brady released it, striding forward. The delight on his face was unholy.

Bouncing on his heels, he moved to Jessica's side, fingertips trailing over her. Jessica! Struggling, Mildred pushed, trying to get herself unpinned from the wall.

Then, dismissively, his attention went back to Mildred. She froze, eyes wide, watching his every movement meticulously. What did he want? What was he going to do to Jess? Or, to her?

Brady sauntered up to Mildred. His eyes roving over her appreciatively, licking and drawing his bottom lip up with his teeth. Her mind flashed back to their first meeting.

She being a random girl he'd been far too forward with, pulling back once he found out she was Sam's sister, if still being exceedingly clear about his interest. Off that first impression interest, any attention from him was tinged in unsettling and creepy and not at all welcome. As though he was a caricature of Dean. Dean looking for a fun time, who failed to notice any social or vocal cues to disinterest. Not failed. Didn't care an ounce for any disinterest or refusal. Slime.

Whom had her practically alone, all to himself, pinned up against a wall and—so far—unable to run or fight back. Mildred's stomach turned.

If she could move away, move back and through this wall, Mildred would have taken that option.

Brady's pursed his lips together, hungry satisfaction of a cat preparing to chow down on a canary.

"Mm. The whole package. Sam here, going all normal, but you. Oh, you are entirely something else. Yellow eyes may have his eyes on Sam, but I've got my eyes on you."

Amusement flashed across his face. "Oh!" Lifting up a hand, he let a small battery operated fan dangle between his fingertips, displaying it for her. "Picked it out especially for you. Red."

Brady's voice purred out her nickname.

Sam fresh in mind, mind thinking a bit clearer now, she narrowed her eyes at Brady. "It's Mildred. Christo."

His eyes went black. Not pupils dilating. The entire eye. Whites and all.

Demon.

Dad had been right. The signs—spread out as they had been—really had been demonic omens. Brady was possessed. Amplifying everything only slightly concerning of Brady to a full blown another level entirely. She'd been wrong. She had been wrong.

Yellow eyes. Another demon? Eyes on Sam? Eyes on her? Dean too?

All in danger.

Chuckling, he shoved the red fan into his pocket, white teeth displayed in full on approval of her. "Salt can go for so many things. But you. Ding. Ding. Ding."

Brady came even closer, pressing himself alongside her body, his entire body tight against her. Pleasure not just voiced from his words, but also felt. His hand grabbed at her waist, moving up, dragging her T-shirt upwards as his hand burrowed underneath.

All the while, his black eyes never looked away from her face. Not once. Not for a second.

Feeling sick, Mildred glared dangerously at him, muscles working furiously to get free from the invisible hold keeping her against the wall. Against the wall and him.

"Oh, you have no idea how dark my eyes can go."

Hand releasing its trail on her body, he raised a finger between them, a mock shushing and reprimand to his lips. Brady leaned his head closer. His finger now mock shushing on both their lips. And drew back quickly, laughter filled with mirth at her attempt of biting off his finger.

"Later. I bite back," he teased. She narrowed her eyes even more at him, really wishing she could batter up on Brady's head with the crowbar. The enjoyment he was getting in toying with her was strikingly clear.

"This Brady has such nice teeth. And, honestly, he is not against it. He really does have a little bit of a thing for you. A friend's sibling. Cliché. But, you know the saying. Business before pleasure and I know my handiwork."

Clearly reluctant, Brady pulled his attention off of her, black eyes going to Jessica laying in the hospital bed. His handiwork? He mentioned the apartment. Jessica had mentioned Brady had dropped by the day before. She had probably let him right in. Getting creative to cross lines. The fan for here, blowing the salt off the top of the room door. And—apparently—done something to remove or displace one of her salt draft stoppers. So that…

Mildred's breath caught.

This wasn't just him—a demon—reveling in something done to Jessica. This solidified it. He'd been the one to do this to her. Like Mom. Looking to possibly finish the job. But he'd waited. A day later. The anniversary of Mom's death by fire.

"Hard to believe a demon placing business before hedonist pleasure," she sneered at him. Ignore Jessica. Leave her alone!

"Oooh." Brady clenched a fist up to his mouth, head rotating back to her. Visibly holding himself back, a finger raised up, leg jostling as though he wished to go back to her. His finger and hand wrenched down from near his face. "Temptress! You have no idea how much I'd… Ooooh. No. No. I got to know what I may be dealing with first. Was it Sam? You? A collaboration between the two of you? See, that could make…other things so much more thrilling."

No idea what Brady was referring to, Mildred pushed, not liking the way his head was already turning back to Jessica. "Then why don't you come over and find out?"

And, for whatever reason, he seemed to hope it was her. Over Sam. Apparently, throughout this whole conversation, it was clear that this demon was, for some reason, impressed by her.

Brady's head slowly pivoted, gazing back at her from over his shoulder.

Mildred's brain stuttered.

It was not right. Eyes completely black should not look stirred and aroused. Deep and rumbling, "I will," Brady promised darkly. "Consider this…emotional foreplay. Poking and prodding this fine, innocent piece of tail your brother nailed."

His hands shoved at Jessica's side, pushing her upwards, gripping on tightly to keep her up as he tore off bandages with his free hand. Humming as he jabbed a finger across the burned expanse of her back. The medical machines beeps weren't so rhythmic anymore.

"Stop it!"

Intrigued by something, Brady leaned his head closer, giving Jessica's back another sharp poke. And pressed further inwards.

"Get. Your hands. Off of her."

His finger extracted from the folds of reddened flesh growing redder, hovering above Jessica.

"That should be much worse," he said to himself. Took another step, blocking most of Mildred's view of Jessica, his head tilting as he murmured. "Telekinesis, super strength? Got her down right after…"

Mildred strained against the wall. Jessica was going to be fine. Slowly, painfully, she clenched her hands into fists, shoving the pain from her mind, ignoring any tingling or itching. And slowly pulled them from the wall. A centimeter. Two. Three, four. She pried herself farther from the wall, pressing the fresh wave of fatigue out of mind, her eyes narrowed on her goal. Brady. He was not going to hurt Jessica an—

Brady's head whipped back around to her, his eyebrows up at his hairline. "What did you do?"

A pained grunt whooshed up from her lungs and up her throat, leaving Mildred breathless as Brady's refocused attention slammed her back up against the wall.

"Stay there. This is, oh, you are something. Something more concrete than, yes, yes, yes."

The tight grip on Jessica's arm left, dropping her unceremoniously back to the bed, bandages left undone. Brady moved down her bed, removing the blanket draped over her in a flourish. Brusquely, he lifted the hospital gown up, allowing him to get full view of Jessica's stomach. And the red line across it.

"That is… Oh, you are digging way back for this. This is not, never a focus given. Not without some serious effort and a contract to boost it. I have never seen or heard of this in all of ones made like you. This is more…"

Brady spun around to Mildred, electrified by his findings, hands clapping together before his face. It was like he was praying. Well, if not for the fact he was a demon.

"You. Oh, you. You are breathtaking," he whispered breathlessly. And with a hop-skip, came over in her direction, an anticipatory smile growing upon his face. Black eyes settling onto her. Not predatorily, but more invigorated. "This isn't going to be the least bit of boring at all. Normally, well, I try, to hold back some…enthusiasm. Humans are just so fragile. And usually very dull. Not you. Never. And now…"

Knowing she had done so before, Mildred strained her whole body, furiously striving to get herself off the wall. Pushed. And forced her head forward against the invisible force holding her against the wall, struggling her shoulders outwards, gaining a bit of traction, and eliminating the distance between them. If she could bring her hand up to—

"Coming to get me? Bring it," he growled. And closed the distance entirely, physically slamming her back up to the wall, mouth encompassing her own.