AN: This really should have been only one chapter with the last one, but I couldn't help but get it to you as soon as I could.

This is also the last chapter for this story. After a short break where I'm working on a non-Supernatural story, I'll resume with Season 6 and you'll all finally find out what happens with Sam. :)

I ran away from the house, with no clear idea of where I was going. I wasn't really sure where I was to begin with, but this was a new subdivision and they were still building houses. We'd passed them on the way in and there was more construction deeper into the new neighborhood. There had to be something I could burn there, something else to take this heat that wouldn't put anyone in danger.

My furnace pulsed then and I almost screamed from the pain, only stopping myself because I didn't want anyone to hear me, to find me. But I needed Dean to know and I needed Kara to know I hadn't just disappeared. I didn't want them looking for me, but first I had to get rid of some of this fire.

I kept running and man I was out of shape. Sam would've been ashamed of how quickly I ran out of breath, but then I didn't normally run with my furnace pulsing, sapping my energy, my steam. I wondered how long I could keep it shut, my feet pounding the pavement. It felt like I was going to lose it soon.

And then there they were, three beautiful houses under construction, nothing done except for the wood framing. I gave a sigh of relief and steam came out of my mouth, like it was the middle of winter. Shit, I needed to hurry.

My control was shaky and I didn't feel like I could just open my furnace and extend a tendril. There was no way. So I ran to the first of the three houses, put my hands on the garage's framing and just pushed through them, screaming as the pathways in my brain burned from the overflow. I forced myself to keep connected to the fire because I knew beyond a doubt that just one of these framed houses was not going to hold this inferno. I pushed and pushed until the wood under my hands disintegrated into ash.

I tried to pull the remaining flame back into me, but it fought me like a living thing. It didn't want to go back into my furnace, it wanted to flow across what little grass was here and burn everything. I didn't let it, wrestling it back into my furnace and shutting the imaginary door with an almost audible clang, stumbling backward from the force of it.

I was better now. My furnace didn't feel like it was about to explode right at this second, but I could tell that was temporary, my body just relaxing a little before the flame started pulsing again. It was already bulging. There wasn't time to text Dean or Kara. I had to get more of this out of me. I ran to the next house and did it again, and then the next house, which was only partially framed.

It wasn't enough. I'd pulled fire out of a house where everything was burning, not just the framing, but cloth, oil, plastic. It was too much for me, and I needed another outlet.

Then I saw them, a virtual forest of construction vehicles: backhoes, dump trucks, front loaders, compactors, and bulldozers. There was even a crane. Metal could take way more fire than wood could, than even coal could. The boiler at my old school and the baler in the shed that abandoned house forever ago had proven it. But I had to be careful. These weren't old, empty machinery. They were being used daily. If I wasn't careful, I could accidentally cause a gas explosion.

I needed a machine that had metal parts away from the gas tank, and the best one for that, I thought, was the compactor. It was basically a cab attached to a cylinder that flattened the ground. I could just heat up the cylinder and it wouldn't reach the gas tank.

I ran to it, my energy flagging. Between the running, the fear, and controlling my fire, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep going, but I had to. I had to keep going, to get rid of the rest of this flame.

I set my hands against the cylinder and pushed, but the fire didn't go at first. This wasn't technically fuel and I was exhausted. My furnace didn't want to heat up this giant chunk of steel. But I had no choice so neither did it. I tightened my abdomen and pushed.

Flame flowed through me, down my arms, out my hands. My shirt sleeves disappeared, my arms wrapped in flames. I pushed and pushed and the steel heated and heated and heated. The roller turned red, then orange, then white hot. The flames around my arms burned blue as I poured and poured and poured. The cylinder dripped white metal onto the ground around it and then warped into itself from the flame. I pushed until I had nothing left to push before sliding to the ground next to the compactor and digging my phone out of my pocket.

I dialed Dean's number. "Jessie,' he said, relief in his voice. "Where are you?"

"I don't know," I said, tears rising at the sound of his voice. "In some new subdivision. Daddy, please come get me?"

"I'll be right there, sweetheart. Stay where you are," he said. "I'll find you."

"I need a new shirt," I said. "Can you please call Kara's mom?"

"I will. I've got it. You can rest now. I'll be right there."

"Okay, Daddy," I said. We hung up then and I lay down on the ground to wait for him, head still pounding, vaguely wondering how he knew I needed to rest.

I don't know how long I lay there staring at the slowly darkening sky before I heard Dean calling my name. I climbed painfully to my feet, my head thumping, and yelled. "I'm here! I'm here!" Then I saw his silhouette against the sunset's shadows and ran to him. He pulled me into his arms and held me to him.

"They were going to die, Daddy," I whimpered. "I couldn't let them die."

"I know, sweetheart. I know," he whispered back, stroking my hair. "Mrs. Davis called and told me what happened. The huge house fire, the family trapped inside, and then the fire just disappeared, along with you. I knew you took it."

He let me go and held me out away from him by my shoulders. "Aside from burning your sleeves off and crisping your shirt, what's the damage?" His eyes slid up and down my body, assessing me. There wasn't much to see on my outside. Inside though…

"My head hurts really bad," I moaned, leaning against his strength. "And my insides feel the way they did when Gabby forced herself into me to see how strong I was."

Letting out a relieved sigh, he pulled me back into his arms. "What did you do to get rid of the fire?"

I pointed at the compactor.

"Whoa," Dean said, letting me go.

Heat was still radiating off the cylinder, but I hadn't looked at it since I melted it. I turned around.

The steel cylinder had bent under its own weight. One side was higher than the other as the inner part had melted down into itself. There were bends and folds, large and small, that had formed as it cooled. There was no way this compactor could be used again.

"What temperature does steel melt at?" Dean asked.

I shrugged. "At one point, the flames turned blue." I tugged on his sleeve then. "I also burned up three house that were just the wood structures."

"The frames?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said and leaned against him, taking his hand. "Will you carry me?"

He made me change into the shirt he brought first. Then he lifted me into his arms and carried me to his truck, where he set me inside gently. As we drove home, I gave him the details of what had happened. The panic I'd felt on seeing the house and then the driving need to save the people inside. He only grunted or gave me one word comments while I told him the story, including my whole thought process on whether I should try to save them. By the time I'd reached the end of it and home, I was slurring my words.

"All right, little girl," he said, turning off the truck. "I want you inside, in your pajamas, and in bed, you understand me? You need to sleep and you need to eat. I'm going to bring you up a sandwich, but I want you asleep right after you eat it."

"Yes, Dad," I said and yawned. I had no problems obeying those orders.

I woke up late that night, starving and needing to pee. On the way to the bathroom, I heard murmured words coming from Dean and Lisa's room. Normally I would have ignored them, but then I heard my name and couldn't resist. I crept to the cracked door to listen.

"…can't live a normal life," Dean was saying. "She's got that fire in her and it's not just that she has to empty the furnace. She's driven to save people. I can't even bring myself to be mad at her. I would've done the same thing, and it was the right thing to do. She's worn out and sore, but she didn't hurt herself and she saved three people."

"And a dog," Lisa pointed out. "Dean, this doesn't mean she can't live a normal life. Maybe she becomes a firefighter. Think how useful she could be at that job, especially once she gets older and she's better with her control. She can't even get hurt from the fire, she could keep her team safe."

Dean didn't say anything for a minute, until, "Trust you to come up with a good solution."

Lisa murmured something and then I heard kissing. Shaking my head, I moved away from the door and headed downstairs to both use the bathroom and eat something. Lisa was right. A firefighter was a good, normal job for me.

Only problem I could see was that I was tiny. Maybe I'd grow more? That seemed doubtful. I probably only had another inch or two to go, if at all. I'd heard that girls hit their full height by like 14 or 15. I was only 4' 10" right now. I might hit five feet, but I was always going to be small. Still, I was strong and I could do things with fire no one else could. That could really help.

I made myself a bowl of cereal and thought about it. Maybe Lisa was right. Even if firefighter wasn't where I ended up, I could be an EMT or a welder or a demolitions expert. How many people could I save if I could stop the bomb from blowing up? How much fire could I use if I could enhance an explosion that needed to happen?

Maybe a normal life wouldn't be so bad.