"What about this, sweet cheeks?" The demon asked before he slit my throat.

My head fell back, and pain exploded in my neck, but then rage filled me, and I picked my head up.

"I love the black eyes," The demon smiled, "You remember what happens next, right?" He asked, "Let me help you first…" He reached down and untied my hands and then looked at me with a creepy grin and empty eyes. His throat slowly slit open, and blood dripped from his mouth, "You're getting weaker… You know what you need…"

I felt this overwhelming desire burst through me, and I watched his blood seep from his neck.

He smiled, "You know what you want…"

I stood up, but I heard Sam's voice echo through the room, "Hey, Maddi…"

The demon frowned and started to fade away, "Maybe next time…"

I opened my eyes suddenly and realized I was now lying in my bed.

Sam was standing above me, smiling, but then a strange look crossed his face, "You okay?"

I sat up and nodded, "Yeah, why?"

He shook his head, "You just look a little worried or something."

I shrugged, "Just another nightmare."

He nodded and gave me a sympathetic look, "Well, I'm going on a run. Just wanted to see if you wanted to come," He shrugged, "A little exercise might help you feel better."

I smiled at him, "Yeah, let's do it," I glanced over at Dean, who was still sleeping, "Do we wanna—?

Sam gave me a look and chuckled, "Really?"

We were towards the end of our run, and the motel was in our sights, Sam looked over at me, "Race ya."

I smirked, and he took off faster, I laughed and chased after him as quickly as I could, but I just couldn't catch him by the time he got to the door.

"Somebody better be chasing you," I heard Dean say as Sam opened the door. I ran in shortly after, Dean shook his head as he took a sip of whiskey, "Wow, you were literally being chased."

I nudged Sam, out of breath, "Okay, no fair, your legs are way longer than mine."

Sam chuckled, "That's never stopped you from outrunning me before."

Actually, he wasn't wrong. Lately, I've been feeling so off my game.

Dean scoffed and shook his head, taking another sip of whiskey.

Sam shrugged and chuckled, "It's good for you."

Dean shook his head, "No. No, it's not good for you. Look at you two," He furrowed his brow, "You're— you're a mess, and you stink," He sighed and gestured toward the laptop in front of him, "Well, while you were out being Lance Armstrong—"

Sam grabbed two Gatorades out of the fridge and handed me one, "That would be biking."

Dean rolled his eyes, "I was working," He looked at me, "Hey, weird facts, you ever heard of a town called Prosperity, Indiana?"

I nodded, "Oh yeah, famous for their cherry pie."

Dean raised his eyebrows, "Really?"

I smirked, "No, I've never heard of the place…" I took a sip of my drink, and Sam chuckled, "That would be cool, though, wouldn't it?"

Dean frowned and looked at me in disappointment, "Anyway, two of their fine citizens died over the past two weeks. Uh, this one chick, she, uh, roasted underneath one of those beehive hair dryers at the hair salon…" He scrolled on the laptop, "And this other guy boiled in a hot tub."

Sam nodded, "You don't see a lot of that."

Dean shook his head, "No, you don't."

I shrugged, "It's worth checking out."

Dean nodded and took another sip, "Yeah."

"You know, one more thing… What's going on with you?" Sam asked.

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, "We have had this conversation, Sam."

Sam shook his head, "No, we haven't. See, to do that, you'd have to, uh, sort of… Speak."

"Okay, let's see if you can get this straight," Dean said, "See you're— you're new Sam, right, Lance Armstrong."

"Biking," I said.

Dean shrugged, "And, uh… And I'm still me, okay?" He nodded, "Alright, so— so, you might see things different now, uh… Call it a runner's high or some crap… But that doesn't mean that something's going on with me, okay?"

Sam shrugged, "Yeah, okay."

Dean shook his head, "No, don't say, 'yeah, okay,' like, 'yeah, okay,'" He mocked.

Sam shrugged, "Yeah, okay," He looked down at me, "You want the first shower?"

"No," I smirked, "You need it more than me," Sam chuckled, and I sat down at the table across from Dean.

He made a face, "I can smell you from here."

I furrowed my brow at him, "You cannot… I'm a lady…" He gave me a look, and I lifted my arm and sniffed my armpit, "Okay…" I put my arm down, "Yeah, that's pretty ripe."

Dean smirked and sipped his whiskey, shaking his head.

We drove out to Prosperity, Indiana. Dean dropped Sam off to talk to the female victim's sister, while he went into the salon she died in, to speak to one of the witnesses. I waited in the car for him to return, but I just couldn't shake this antsy feeling, it was like my whole body was tingling. I had been trying so hard to avoid using my abilities to deal with my issues. I didn't want to disappoint Sam or feel like the conversation we had, meant nothing. Honestly, though, I was struggling, I felt like the less I used it, the more I wanted to. Now it wasn't even because of dreams or flashbacks or even random bouts of anxiety, sometimes I just felt like I wanted to… No, I needed to use them. I even looked forward to seeing those demons in my dreams now because I knew that was the closest I had gotten to feeling powerful in a while. It made me feel so guilty, and like something was definitely wrong with me, but I couldn't help but think that I was missing something.

I stared down at my palm, rubbing it, and trying to convince myself that I was okay, and Dean would be back soon to take my mind off of any crazy ideas. I took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, but against my own pleas, I pulled out my knife and sliced through my palm.

Immediately, I grabbed it, "Crap, crap, crap," I looked at my hand and knew that I had definitely cut a lot deeper than I intended to, "Damn it," I opened my bag and pulled out some gauze, and quickly wrapped my hand. I knew it probably needed stitches to help speed up the healing process, but I didn't have time to deal with that right now, it was going to have to wait until later. Then I grabbed a random shirt out and wiped up the blood that had dripped. I tossed my shirt and knife into my bag and zipped it up. I was mad at myself for giving in to my urge, but even more angry that I had hurt myself more than I meant to. All I could do was wait for it to heal and get that release.

I jumped when Dean got into the car, "Hey."

He looked back at me, "Hey, you okay? You look a little jumpy."

I nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine… What did you find out?"

Dean sighed, "Well, I found this…" He held up a strange-looking coin.

I reached for it, "I've never seen—"

He grabbed my wrist and looked at my hand with concern, "What did you do?"

I pulled my hand away, "I dropped my phone under the seat and cut myself on something," He stared at me for a Moment, but I shrugged, "Dean, I'm fine."

He looked at me for a little longer, "I'll have to check out that seat."

I shrugged, "Um, yeah… So, what do you think the coin is?" I asked, trying to move on.

Dean shook his head, "I don't know. I'm gonna give Sam a call," He pulled out his phone and dialed Sam's number.

Sam answered a few seconds later, "Hey."

"Hey," Dean said, "So, I found a coin in the salon."

"Wait. What kind of a coin?" Sam asked.

Dean twirled the coin around in his fingers as he examined it, "It's not American. I don't know where it's from. It was wedged back behind one of those machines. Somebody could have dropped it. Of course, they don't have pockets in those robe thingies that they make you wear."

Sam chuckled, "I didn't realize you were such a spa expert."

"Shut up," Dean snapped, "I observe with my eyes."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you say. So, you thinkin' it must be some kind of hex talisman?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged, "Uh, maybe."

"Alright. Pick me up," Sam said.

"Why don't you just run home, Lance?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed, "Dean—"

Dean nodded, "Yeah, I'll be there in a bit."

The next morning, Sam and Dean got a call about another strange death in town. Apparently, there was a freak accident with a nail gun at a construction site. Dewey Stevens, the owner of Dewey Stevens Construction, had gone to the site to check up on everything and then ended up being nailed to the wall inside of a porta-potty. Dean found another coin on the ground just outside of the accident. Plus, Sam found out that the first vic, Carl, hairdryer Wendy, Dewey, and a man named Don Stark had all been working on a shopping center project together.

After they left, I opened my bandage to see how my cut was doing, but it was still just as deep, I hadn't healed at all. So, I grabbed some whiskey, string, and a needle out of Sam's bag and sat down to stitch myself up. I shakily put the thread through the eye of the needle and then took a few deep breaths. I poured some whiskey over my open cut, which stung like hell. Then I painfully stitched up my hand, every puncture and pull was excruciating. Still, it wasn't the worst pain I've felt in a while, so I just breathed through it and finished as quickly as I could.

A while later, Sam and Dean came back to pick me up so we could go get food, and we happened to walk by a bust labeled, Don Stark, Founder of the Prosperity Charity Foundation. We had seen signs all over town for an auction that was going to be held by The Margaret Stark Charity Foundation soon.

"Man, this Stark guy is really plugged in, huh?" Sam asked, staring at the bust.

Dean nodded, "So, all the players in this— this shopping-center project have either fried, boiled, or kebabbed. He could be next," He pulled a flask out of his pocket and unscrewed the lid.

Sam furrowed his brow, "Really? From a friggin' flask? What are you, bad Santa? On the job?"

Dean shrugged, "We're always on the job," Then he took a swig.

Sam's phone beeped, and he pulled it out to read the message, "Alright. Bobby e-mailed back. I sent him a few pics of those coins you found. He says the writing is Romanian Cyrillic, used only in the mid-15th to the 19th century. Apparently, it's an antique Wallachian ducat."

"So, we're looking for an old Romanian?" Dean asked.

"You know, is it just me, or is this really weird?" Sam asked, nodding at all the dead plants that surrounded the bust.

"Huh. I've seen this once before, where the plants are all dead in one spot," Dean said.

"Where?" I asked.

"A bus bench with Wendy Goodson's picture on it," Dean shrugged, "I mean, I'm no expert, but I don't think plants are supposed to act like this."

We decided to drive out to Don Starks' mansion. The plan was for the boys to go in and distract him while I waited outside for a text to go in and look around for another coin. After about twenty minutes of waiting, a young, pretty blonde woman walked out of the front door and got in a car. Then I got the text to wait for her to drive away and then quietly go right through the front door and upstairs.

I walked up to the house and carefully opened the door enough for me to squeeze through. I could hear Sam and Dean talking to Don somewhere down the hallway, so I tiptoed up the stairs and down another hall. At the end of it, I found the biggest bedroom I had ever seen in my life, so I walked in and looked around in awe. The bedroom itself had a hallway in it, on one side was a bathroom that was about as big as our motel room if not bigger and on the other side was an equally as large walk-in closet. When I stepped into the closet, I realized that one half had a bunch of men's clothes while the other side was almost entirely empty, like it had just been cleared out. On one of the shelves was a woman's shoe with a heel broken off of it, a necklace with a five-pointed star pendant, a shoebox, and a manila folder. It was like someone purposely laid the clues to a mystery out for Scooby and the gang. I opened the box, inside was a small book, weird spices and dead flowers, and some gold pieces. I opened the manila folder and pulled out a very old piece of paper, it had strange markings on it, which was clearly a recipe to a spell.

I tucked everything I found back on the shelf, the way I had found it. Then I walked toward the doorway, but a weird dizziness came over me. I tripped over my feet and caught myself with my bad hand on the door frame. Pain immediately shot up my arm, and my hand throbbed, I looked at my palm and realized I was bleeding through my bandage, and there was now a smear of blood on the door frame.

"Oh, no, come on…" I whispered, my heart racing a little bit. Then my hand started throbbing again, and pain pulsed up my arm. I grabbed my arm and tucked it into my stomach, hoping for some reason that holding it against me would make the pain go away.

"What the hell is happening?" I looked at my bandage and realized that the bloodstain was turning dark brown. I stumbled into the bathroom, still feeling dizzy and unraveled my bandage, which revealed something that made my stomach turn. I quickly closed the door and breathed heavily as I stared down at my maggot filled open wound.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What the hell…" I turned the sink on and started scrubbing my hand under the water, I watched as maggots and sludgy old blood splashed all over the sink and swirled down the drain. It didn't matter how much I scrubbed, more and more maggots just kept coming out, but the more I scratched, the more fresh blood started to flow out and splash everywhere. My heart raced, I didn't know what to do, I just knew I was making a mess. I stopped scrubbing and grabbed a towel to wipe the blood splashes off of the mirror, but when I looked up, I stumbled back. My eyes were completely black, like a demon.

I quickly moved toward the mirror and looked closer at myself, "What is happening… What is happening?" I started to hyperventilate and moved away from the sink, I looked up at the ceiling and tried to get myself together. Whatever was going on didn't matter right now, I needed to get myself together and get out of here before we got caught. I took one last deep breath, and when I opened my eyes, there was no blood or maggots anywhere. My eyes were normal, and I looked down at my hand, which was now healed except for the bits of stitches I pulled out, leaving small bloody dots along where my cut used to be.

"Holy crap," I exhaled sharply, "Um, okay…" I stood there for a minute, completely confused, and then put the towel I had ripped down back on its rack.

I opened the door and turned off the light and saw that there wasn't blood on the door frame either. I shook off what happened and then snuck out of the room, down the stairs, and back outside. Once I got back into the Impala, I sent them a text, and they joined me a little while later.

"So?" I asked, "You get anything out of him?"

"Him and his wife, Maggie, are having 'marital misunderstandings,'" Dean said.

Sam scoffed, "Right… That's what he calls getting caught cheating with Wendy Goodson. Now it looks like he is moving onto his assistant Jenny."

I nodded, "Well, that makes sense. Her half of their closet was pretty much cleared out, I don't think she plans on coming back any time soon. Plus, I found a bunch of hex crap on one of her empty shelves."

Dean nodded, "So, Don admires Wendy, biblically, Wendy dies weird, and the scorned wife is into the dark stuff."

"While Don's just in the dark," Sam said.

Dean shrugged, "Hmm. It's kind of like 'Bewitched.' You know, Don's Darrin doesn't even know it. A lot of laughs until, uh, you cheat on your wife."

Sam furrowed his brow, A 'Bewitched' reference. Really?"

"Dude, Nicole Kidman was in the remake. Redhead," Dean smirked.

Sam pointed out the window toward Don's house, "Look at all these dead plants." The house was surrounded by them.

Dean nodded, "Huh. It's kind of like the real-estate lady's place and Don's statue thing."

"You know, if she's strong enough, just being pissed off is enough to send some pretty bad vibes their way," Sam said.

Dean pulled out his phone, "Literally kill off everything around her just by PMS-ing at it," He shrugged and dialed a number and put the phone up to his ear, "That's not creepy at all." (…) "Bobby, hey, it's Dean. Listen—" (…) "Winchester." (…) He chuckled, "Yeah, very funny. So, we need our kind of Terminix." (…) "A witch." (…) "Yeah, we're headed over to her place to get you some more specifics, so if you could just, uh…" (…) "Ye—" (…) "Thank y—" He pulled the phone away, looking a little hurt and then chuckled, "He's on it."

We pulled up to Maggie Stark's house, there was a sign out front that said it had been leased. Sam and I waited in the Impala while Dean snuck into the house. A few minutes later, a car with the license plate STARK 2 pulled into the driveway.

"Sam…" I said, nodding toward the car.

Sam quickly pulled out his phone and tried to call Dean, but got no answer, "Um, stay low," He said and then stepped out. I laid down in the back seat and sat up slightly so I could see what was going on. Sam walked up to the woman, "Mrs. Stark," He held up his badge, "Could I have a Moment?"

Maggie nodded, "Of course. Um, would you mind coming back in, say, a half an hour?" She asked, "It's just a really bad time right now."

"It's very important that I talk to you," Sam interrupted her before she turned away.

"Of course, and I'm happy to," She smiled, "I'm just in the middle of an emergency, so please come back. Thank you!" Then she turned back to the house.

Sam pushed down on Maggie's car and set off the alarm. Maggie turned back, looking both annoyed and confused and then turned the alarm off.

Sam chuckled, "I'm sorry… Uh… Restless leg syndrome."

Maggie nodded and smiled and then continued walking to the house. Sam paced by the car and then finally got inside when Dean hurriedly walked out of the house.

Dean joined us in the Impala, "Spoiler alert," He held up a library card of the blonde woman that left Don's house earlier, "Jenny Klein's next. Swiped her photo off a hex deck, but Maggie's gonna notice it's gone eventually. We got to get over to Jenny's."

When we charged into Jenny's apartment, she was choking on blood and coughing it up into the sink. On the floor sat a partially eaten cupcake with a tiny beating heart in it.

"Find the coin, now!" Dean shouted at Sam, and the two of them started searching for it as I stopped Jenny from collapsing onto the floor.

I helped lower her to the ground as she continued to cough up blood, "Come on, guys!"

Sam found the coin in one of the cupboards, he placed it on the counter and pulled out his gun and shot it.

Immediately, Jenny stopped coughing up blood and started freaking out, "There were tiny beating hearts in my cupcakes… There were hearts in my cupcakes, hearts in my cupcakes!" She screamed. I helped her up and moved her to the couch, where she sat down, continuing to freak out, "There were tiny hearts in my cupcakes!" She yelled, and I moved away to join the boys in the kitchen, "That's never happened before! Hearts in my cupcakes!"

"Should I slug her?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head, "Give it a second."

Jenny took a deep breath and looked at us, "Oh, my God. What just happened?"

"You were hexed," I said.

"Hexed?" Jenny asked, "Who are you, people? What the hell do I do?"

"What you do is you go in there…" Dean pointed to her bedroom, "And you pack a bag, you get in your car, and you go."

Jenny shook her head, "Go where?"

Sam shook his head, "It doesn't matter. Look, 500 or 600 miles ought to do it. You got someone real powerful real pissed, and they're trying to get rid of you now. In line with that, you might want to cool things with Don Stark."

Jenny furrowed her brow, "Don Stark?" She shook her head, "What are you talking about?"

"You and Don," Dean shrugged, "You know."

"'You know,'?" Jenny frowned in disgust, "There's no 'you know.'"

"No?" Sam asked.

I shook my head, "Look at her face… There's definitely no 'you know.'"

Jenny nodded, "Yeah, I mean Don Stark is my boss. That's it. He's married, for God sakes."

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, well—"

Jenny gagged, "Me and Don Stark. Ew."

On our way to the motel, we stopped by Don's bust, it was shaking, and then the head suddenly cracked in two.

Dean shook his head, "Now she's just getting nasty. Killing the girlfriend is one thing, but his commemorative bust? That's got to hurt."

"She'll take the whole town out, Dean," Sam said, "She don't care who gets in the way."

Dean's phone rang, and he picked it up, "Hey, Bobby. What do you got?" (…) "Yeah? You think it'll take her out?" (…) He nodded, "Alright. No, I don't need to write it down. I'll remember." (…) "Go ahead." (…) He nodded, "Mhm. The—" (…) He shook his head, "Wait. Hang on. Hang on," He gestured to Sam for a pen and paper.

"I thought you could remember it," I smirked.

Dean held his hand up, telling me to be quiet, "Yeah?" (…) "Wait. Wa— Ho— Ho— Hold on. Hold on. Hold on."

San handed over a dinner menu and a pen and then gave me a smirk.

"Okay, what was the, uh— What was that last one?" Dean asked. (…) "Right. Uh-huh. I'll remember. It's fine."

Dean and I sat at the table in our motel, waiting for Sam to come back. Dean took the lid off of a pie and started digging into it with a spoon, stuffing his mouth full.

"You're really gonna eat that whole thing?" I asked, slightly grossed out.

He shrugged, "Yeah, why? Do you want some?"

I shook my head, "No."

He scooped some up in his spoon and held it out for me, "You sure?"

I shook my head, "I'm good, Dean."

He shrugged and stuffed the spoon in his mouth, "What's with you?"

I furrowed my brow, "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know," Dean said, "You go on a run with Sam, and now you don't want to eat pie with me?"

I chuckled, "You're upset because I just don't feel like eating pie?"

He shook his head, "No, it's just…" He trailed off with a mumble and shoved more pie in his mouth.

I slid the pie away from him, "I'm sorry, what was that mumbles?"

He slid the pie back, "We used to eat pie and hang out together all the time, and now you just want to go for runs… With Sam."

I laughed, "Are you referring to when your leg was broken, and we were stuck at Rufus's for three weeks? We do stuff together all the time, Dean. Don't be a brat."

He chuckled, "A brat, huh?" He scooped some more pie into his mouth.

"Yes," I smiled and swiped some whipped cream on to my finger.

"Ugh," He groaned, "You just stuck your finger in my pie."

"Okay, don't ever say that again," I smirked, "Also, you wanted me to share a spoon with you, I think you can handle some finger germs," I poked the whipped cream on the end of his nose, stood up, and walked over to the couch.

"And I'm the brat?" He asked while wiping his face with a napkin.

I plopped down on the couch, "Yeah… I would say, yeah."

He nodded and cleared his throat, "So, uh… You wanna tell me something?"

I furrowed my brow, a little worried where this might go, "Nothing comes to mind."

"How about what you actually did to your hand," Dean said.

I shrugged, "I already told you."

He nodded, "Really? 'Cause when I looked under the seat, I couldn't find anything that would cut you under there."

"I don't know, Dean," I said, "That's what happened, I didn't even cut myself that bad anyway, it was probably just random."

"Okay, let me see it," He said, still eating his pie.

"There's nothing to see," I said and held my now completely healed palm up to him.

He looked for a second, "Come here," I stood up, walked over, and held my palm out to him. He grabbed my hand and brushed his fingers over where my cut used to be, "Does it hurt?"

I furrowed my brow, "What?"

"Can you feel it when something cuts you?" He asked, letting my hand go.

I nodded, "Yeah, I still feel everything, I can just heal a lot faster than normal."

He nodded, "You still having nightmares?"

I shrugged and walked back over to the couch, "I wouldn't really consider them nightmares anymore… More just dreams about it. I think I'm kinda numb to it now."

Dean nodded, looking a little concerned and went back to his pie, but was just playing with it more than anything.

"What?" I asked, knowing he had more to say.

He shook his head, "Nothing."

I sighed, "Dean—"

Suddenly, Sam opened the door and walked in.

"Dude. Pie," Dean said happily and took another bite. Sam set a bag of something bloody down on the table next to Dean, who immediately covered his nose, "Ugh. That is—"

"Chicken feet, just like the recipe calls for," Sam said as he sat down next to me on the couch, "Butcher's fridge is down."

Dean nodded, covering his nose, and pushing the pie away, "I can smell that."

"Uh, says the power's been wonky and that he's lost so much product, he probably won't make rent. Ditto every shop on the block… Nothing but burst pipes and blackouts," Sam said.

Dean nodded, "Huh."

"He says it's like all of a sudden, the town ran out of luck," Sam said.

"So, coincidence, right?" Dean asked sarCastically and then picked up the bag of chicken feet and brought them to us.

"Uh… Yeah," Sam nodded, "We're past the point of dead flowers."

Dean shrugged, "What can I say? I guess the witch is pissed. Alright, let's, uh— we better get a move on here. Why don't you just—" He held the feet out toward Sam, making the rancid smell drift over to us, "Ca— Can you take the feet?"

Sam grimaced and held a bowl out to Dean, who then dropped the bag in it.

We drove out to get something to eat, but on our way back, we spotted flashing lights from police cars and ambulances at the building hosting the art auction.

"What the hell?" Dean asked as he parked the car.

He and Dean got out and ran in to see what was going on and came back out a little while later. Apparently, someone had been murdered during Maggie's auction.

"Well, I don't think she would want to ruin her own auction," I said.

Dean shook his head, "No, obviously it was someone who hated her guts and wanted her party trashed."

Sam nodded, "Don Stark."

"So, the mister's a witch, himself," Dean said, "That means we got not just one pissed-off witch. We've got two. It's full-on 'War of the Roses.'"

"'Bewitched' just got a lot less funny," Sam said.

Dean nodded, "It's like when they switched Darrins."

We pulled up to the Stark house, hoping both of them would be there.

"Where is she?" Sam asked.

"She'll be here. They've been throwing thunderbolts at each other's favorite toys. There's nothing left to destroy but each other. This is basically ground zero," Dean said.

Sam sighed, "I hope so. We're gonna need them both in the same place if we're gonna take them down."

Maggie's car turned into the driveway, then she parked and stormed into the house.

"Screens up, Captain," Dean said, then we all hopped out and grabbed our spell components out of the back.

We quickly entered the house and followed the angry voices into a back room.

"Furor divina virtute in infernum eam detrude!" Dean recited as he held the spell bowl. Sam stuck a match and dropped it into the bowl, causing white smoke to rise, but nothing else happened.

Maggie smirked, "Let me guess… Chicken feet? Not chilled?"

Don stood up and put the whiskey he was drinking down on the table in front of him, "For obvious reasons, you won't be leaving this room," He sighed, "Well, you will be leaving… Just not alive. Maggie?" He asked, and they nodded at each other.

Don and Maggie raised their hands and spoke in unison, "Puterea magiei negre…"

"Okay, plan B," Sam whispered.

"What's plan B?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged, "Talking."

"La suferinta…" Don and Maggie continued.

"Are you kidding?" I snapped.

"This is obviously a domestic dispute. So, if you can't kill them, counsel them," Sam said.

Dean nodded, "Yeah. You know what? Not my area!"

"Supune-te…" Don and Maggie continued, "Ordinelor mele—"

Dean chuckled nervously, "Okay, okay, okay. Uh…" He put the bowl down on a table, "Look…" He sighed, "Obviously, you two are capable of wiping each other out, right? But you haven't, huh? Which means that you two…" He shrugged, "You still value whatever it is you got. A— And you want to keep that dance going. Maybe it's— Maybe it's punishment. Maybe it's— it's sick, messed-up, erotic, kinky, clamps and feathers kind of love."

Sam stepped forward and put his hand on Dean's shoulder, "Okay, okay, that's— that's going way too deep, there, cowboy," He looked at Maggie and Don, "Look, what he's trying to say is that— is that you two… Whatever it is you have, you're bonded."

Maggie glared at him, "Are you out of your mind? He cheated on me, humiliated me."

"We're not trying to say what Don did was right. When a relationship cracks, usually both parties have a hand in it," Sam said.

Don nodded, "Indeed."

Maggie furrowed her, brow, "You're defending him?" She reached her arm out toward Sam, who fell to the ground in pain.

"Uh, wow, okay. That was an incredibly stupid thing for my brother to say," I said, "Obviously, what Don did was totally messed up. We get that you feel betrayed… Because you were."

"Don't suck up to her," Don flung his arm, and I went flying into a seat, unable to move or speak, "Sit down and shut up, sweetheart."

Dean stepped forward, "Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa…"

Don raised his hand again and sent Dean flying backward into a glass door.

Maggie turned to Don, "I was betrayed by all of them. Carl introduced you to Wendy. Dewey covered for you. Wendy did you!"

"Okay, okay, look…" Sam groaned as he tried to stand up, "I got to say I— I don't think Don was lying when he said he regrets the whole Wendy thing."

Maggie raised an eyebrow, "'Thing'? Sit down," She waved her hand, and Sam was forced back down onto the floor.

Sam groaned, "Yeah, affair… That's right, terrible," He rolled back onto the floor in pain.

"I think the only thing he regrets is getting caught," Maggie said.

Don shook his head, "Wendy was nothing to me. It was over as soon as it started."

"She was part of a pattern, okay?" Wendy snapped, "I've had 800 years of this. Do not make me bring up the Renaissance!"

"Oh! Oh!" Don pointed his finger at her, "You're one to talk. 1492 ring any bells?"

"The man was about to set sail!" Maggie shouted, "He could possibly fall off of the edge of the earth. I took pity. So, what's your excuse?"

Don shook his head, "I told you… Nothing happened with the Medici chick! You've always been insanely jealous."

"Oh, I wonder why!" Maggie yelled, "Jenny. Wendy."

"Jenny?" Don shook his head, "Nothing happened with Jenny. She's just my assistant."

Dean stood up, "That's true. She, uh… She told us…" He nodded, "Just an assistant."

Maggie flung her arm out, sending Dean backward again onto the floor, and then she looked at Don, "Is that true?"

Don nodded, "Yes, I swear it, babe. I would never. I made a mistake. I'm sorry, Maggie."

Sam stood up, "See? See? Guys, guys… You're talking," He smiled, "All these years, you— you— you buried your anger and your disappointment till it tore you apart. All you needed to do was talk."

Dean stood up, "And I would have missed the nuking that my melon just took. Well, who wants that?"

Maggie flung her arm out, sending Dean up against the wall. Don raised his arm, and bees surrounded Dean's head.

Maggie smiled at Don, "Nice touch."

"Thank you," Dean smiled, "He's right. I couldn't kill you. All I ever wanted is you, Mags. I've been crushing on you since forever. You're the woman that I want to never grow old with."

Maggie nodded, "I could never murder you either, Don. It's crazy… But true," Then she kissed Don.

"Somebody want to call these things off?" Dean asked, "Ex— Excuse me!"

We walked grumpily back into our motel room, and Dean pulled out a flask. Sam gave him a look and shook his head.

"Oh, give me a break," Dean sighed.

Sam shook his head, "I didn't say anything."

"It's been a long day," Dean said.

"And it's not over yet," A man said behind us. We spun around, and Dean aimed his gun at the man. He smiled, "Hi, Sam. Hi, Dean. Hi, Maddison."

Sam furrowed his brow, "Do we know you?"

The man nodded, "Well, I definitely know you. You're the dead hunters," He shrugged, "Well, you will be in a minute," Dean shot him in the chest, black liquid oozed out, and the bullet popped out. He smirked and shrugged, "Sorry. You're a bit outmatched," He ran forward and punched Dean, sending him flying back onto the floor. Then he turned to me and shoved me back, causing me to roll over the bed and onto the floor. Then he grabbed Sam by the throat, but then he dropped down himself as if he had been electrocuted.

I looked up, and Don was standing in the doorway.

Dean furrowed his brow, "Don. Well, thank you. We owe you."

Don looked down at the man, "Good God. What is that thing?"

Sam shrugged, "I guess we should be figuring that out."

Dean stood up, "It is on our to-do list."

"You know, find a bottomless pit and drop it in," Don said, looking down at the man in disgust, "Spell only lasts for a few days," He walked over to the mattresses and felt around under them.

"Uh, what are you even doing here?" Sam asked.

"Apparently, saving your lives… Twice," Done said and held up two coins and then walked over to the couch and pulled out another coin from under the cushions, "Got it."

Sam scoffed, "Maggie? Seriously?"

"She was gonna kill us?" Dean asked, "We just saved your damn marriage."

Don shrugged, "Yeah, but to be fair, you also tried to kill her. You know how she is when she gets a bug up her ass. Got to love her, right?" He nodded, "Right," He pointed down at the man, "Bottomless pit. Ciao!" Then he walked out, closing the door behind him.

After getting our stuff together, we loaded the car and got the leviathan chained up and loaded into the backseat.

"Yeah, he's ready for transport," Dean said, talking to Bobby on the phone, "I just hope you got someplace you can put him, Bobby." (…) "Alright," He hung up and opened his door, "We should hit the road. You ready?"

"Hey, were you, um, were you listening to the Starks tonight?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged, "Uh, a little, when I wasn't getting slammed into a wall or stung by bees."

Sam nodded, "You notice how they, uh, you know, how they— how they opened up, got everything off their chest?"

Dean smirked, "Yeah. Kudos on selling them that crap."

Sam shook his head, "It wasn't crap, Dean. It worked."

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head, "Sam, I am so very, very, very, very… very, very tired—"

Sam shook his head, "Dean, like it or not, the stuff you don't talk about doesn't just go away. It builds up, like whatever's eating at you right now."

"There's always something eating at me," Dean shrugged, "That's who I am. Something happens, I feel responsible, alright? The Lindbergh baby… That's on me. Unemployment… My bad."

"That's not what I'm talking about," Sam said.

"Well, then what the hell are you talking about?" Dean snapped.

"I'm talking about whatever you're not telling us about," Sam sighed, "Look, Dean, it's fine. You can unload. That's kind of what we're here for."

Dean looked at me, "What? He doesn't get the 'you can't make people tell you stuff' speech?"

I shrugged, knowing I didn't have much ground to stand on myself but knew Sam wasn't wrong, "He's not wrong, you have been acting weird."

Dean scoffed, "What, so, you guys are just ganging up on me now?"

Sam shook his head, "No one is ganging up on you, Dean, we just know something is up…" He sighed and shrugged after a Moment, "I mean… We're good, right?"

Dean nodded, "We're good," Then he got into the car and me, and Sam piled into the front shortly after, feeling slightly defeated after that conversation.