"So," Aisy said as she opened the passenger door of Hope's car and climbed inside, settling her duffle bag in the floor between her feet. "Hope seems nice."

Sam shot Aisy a sideways glance as he settled himself behind the wheel. The ghost of a smile played at his lips as he studied her. "So does being snarky come naturally to you, or do you have to work at it?" he joked.

"I can't help it, people make it easy," Aisy shot back, shrugging one shoulder. "But I honestly think she's nice, Sam."

"Oh," Sam replied with a slight smile. "Yeah, she's pretty great."

Aisy raised an eyebrow, giving Sam a questioning look. Jealousy twisted in her gut again, and she mentally cursed herself for being so easily swayed by her silly romantic notions of finding someone to love. "Not that it's any of my business, but Dean doesn't strike me as the type to share."

"What?" Sam chuckled, shaking his head. "God no, it's not like that. Hope is—she's like a sister to me. I do love her, but not like that. The three of us have known each other a really long time, and we've been through a lot together. She's good for Dean; she makes him laugh. I know you don't know us that well, but that—that's huge."

"Oh," Aisy said quietly, embarrassed she'd let her out of control jealousy to cloud her judgment—again. "Sorry, I—" she shook her head. Nope, she wasn't going there. "You know what? Never mind."

Sam nodded, a tiny smirk curving one corner of his mouth as the sign for the Twisted Horse Saloon came into view as they rounded a bend in the interstate. They still hadn't spoken as Sam steered the car into the parking lot, gravel crunching loudly beneath its tires. He parked sideways in front of the bar, cutting the ignition and turning toward Aisy.

"So, uh—" he cleared his throat, glancing away, "I know Hope said it earlier, but thank you. For everything. You didn't have to help save her, and—"

"Don't mention it, Sam," Aisy said quickly, jerking the door handle and climbing out of the car before she lost all of her dignity and begged Sam to take her with him. She leaned in through the open door and grabbed her bag, giving him a cheeky smile. "You know where to find me if you need anything."

Sam didn't have time to reply as Aisy shut the door and walked toward the bar. It was better this way, she told herself as she unlocked the door and stepped inside, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to watch Sam drive away. Aisy sighed, blinking back unexpected tears as the Porsche's tail lights disappeared over the hill. It was a ridiculous dream, really, that someone like Sam would be interested in her, a girl with no home, no family, and a truckload of trust issues and secrets to boot.

Aisy sighed, flipping on the lights as the door slammed behind her. Broken tables and pieces of shattered chairs were scattered everywhere across the large space, as though an invisible tornado had ripped through the room. Aisy's breath left her as she scanned the destruction, and she clenched her jaw when the dark figure standing at the bar turned around, holding up a half-full glass of bourbon in a toast.

"Hello, Aislinn," he said with a predatory smile that made Aisy's skin crawl. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and praying that when she opened them, the room would be empty. "Nice try, my love, but getting rid of me will take more than wishing it were so."

"Obviously," Aisy grumbled, opening her eyes and glaring at him. "What do you want, Drexil? I thought we agreed to never be in the same room with each other ever again?"

"Is that any way to greet your husband?" Drexil purred, slinking over to where Aisy stood, like a cat stalking its prey. Aisy rolled her eyes, dropping her duffle on the floor and heading for the bar to pour herself a drink.

"Ex-husband," Aisy growled, slamming back a shot of tequila. "You didn't answer my question. What the fuck are you doing in my bar? And why does it look like you let a horde of flying monkeys loose in here?"

"You first, love," he said, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. "What the hell were you doing with Sam Winchester?"

"That's none of your business, Drexil," Aisy fumed through gritted teeth. She had a feeling he'd still been watching her all these years, but knowing for sure hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. "I'm not your wife anymore, which means what I do is not your concern."

"You're wrong, love," Drexil said smoothly, taking a sip from his glass. "Everything special about you is because of me, which means I own you. What? Did you think you'd be able to walk away that easy? And steal from me on top of that? Not a chance."

"I didn't steal anything," Aisy growled, unfastening the leather cord tied around her wrist. She murmured an incantation under her breath, and the coiled cord grew heavy in her hand as it transformed into a snakewhip. "That key was a family heirloom, Drexil. It belonged to my grandfather. You think I don't know the only reason you pretended to love me was to get your filthy warlock hands on it?"

"Now that's just hurtful, Aislinn," Drexil replied, tilting his to one side as his eyes darted toward the whip she held in her hand. He'd seen first hand the destruction Aisy could cause with that thing if she chose to, and dying wasn't on the top of his to-do list right then. "It wasn't the only reason. Tell me, does Sam Winchester know what you are? Has he seen the havoc you wreak when you lose control of your emotions? I'd love to be a fly on the wall when he finds out. The Winchesters are like beasts, you know, and once they have your scent, they'll hunt you to the ends of the Earth like the killers they are.

"I don't use my magic anymore," Aisy said, tightening her fingers around the whip handle. "I've had enough of this, Drexil. If you've come for the key, you'll get it over my dead body."

"Come now, love," Drexil said with a shrug. "Don't be like that. I don't want to kill you, Aislinn; so just give me the key so I don't have to. You stupid girl, you don't even know what it opens, do you? It's the key to the biggest treasure trove of supernatural items in the entire world. Do you have any idea how much some of those artifacts could be worth?"

"It doesn't matter. You're not the first monster I've killed while protecting it—and I'm sure you won't be the last," Aisy replied, uncurling the whip as she stepped out from behind the bar and gestured to Drexil with her free hand. "Let's get on with it then."

"As you wish," Drexil said, snapping his fingers and producing a ball of flames, sending it hurtling at Aisy's head. She ducked, rolling out of the way as the fireball flew past her, shattering the liquor bottles lining the shelves behind the bar and igniting the alcohol-soaked wood.

"Still with the same old tricks. You'd think you'd learn something new after a few hundred years," Aisy said, a feral grin spreading across her face as she flicked the whip, wrapping it around Drexil's wrist as he tried to snap his fingers again. The fireball he'd attempted to conjure fizzled out as Aisy jerked the whip, sending the warlock sprawling across the pieces of broken furniture littering the barroom floor. He stared up at her with amusement in his eyes as she sauntered toward him, curling the leather whip around her hand and murmuring the incantation to return it to its original form.

"You're something else, you know that?" Aisy squatted next to him, wrapping the leather cord safely around her wrist again before letting her hands dangle between her knees as she stared at him with cold eyes. "You come into my bar, accuse me of being a thief, and then you set the place on fire?" She gritted her teeth, wrapping her long fingers around his throat and squeezed, her manicured black nails digging into the soft flesh beneath his jaw. "At least if I kill you now, I'll be free of you for good."

Rage boiled the blood in Aisy's veins, and the flames behind the bar surged in response, devouring everything in their path like a starving animal as the walls and ceiling of the bar ignited all around them. She squeezed harder, and Drexil sputtered, his hands twitching at his sides as a flaming beam dropped from the ceiling nearby. "Aislinn," he croaked, gasping for breath, "Aislinn, please. You loved me once. You're not a murderer."

"You don't know anything about me, Drexil," Aisy said, shaking her head as a wry smile curved her full lips. "I never loved you. I used you, that's all. You were a means to an end, and you've far outlived your usefulness to me."

"Maybe," Drexil groaned, "but that doesn't mean I'm just going to let you kill me." He snapped his fingers and Aisy flew across the room, propelled by an invisible force as she exploded through the storeroom door. Her head connected with the wall, and she fell unconscious in a crumpled heap onto the old military cot Dean had passed out on not even two days before. "So long, my love," Drexil murmured as he stood up, coughing and dusting himself off. The flames licked every available surface as more of the ceiling crashed down around him. "One way or another, I'll see you again soon, and I will have what I came for." He snapped his fingers again, vanishing into thin air.

Sam shook his head, trying to shake the growing sense of nausea and unease that had plagued him since the left Aisy at the Twisted Horse. Everything inside him told him to turn the car around and go to her, and yet, he couldn't make himself actually do it. She was hiding something from him, he was sure of it, and he didn't want to go down the same road he had with Ruby. What if Aisy was another demon, or worse?

The connection he'd felt with her when he first laid eyes on her had been like nothing he'd ever experienced before. The powerful high of the demon blood Ruby fed him didn't even come close to feeling like that, and that thought alone was more than enough to terrify him. What if it was another trick? He couldn't allow himself to fall into some trap because he longed so badly for what he'd had with Jessica or what Dean had with Hope. He'd never gotten around to asking Dean what it had felt like the first time he laid eyes on Hope, and his mind wouldn't let go of the possibility that maybe Dean and Hope weren't the only ones with mirrored souls.

Sam! Help!

Sam gasped, shaken from his rambling thoughts as the words filled his mind like a scream. He stomped on the brakes, making a u-turn in the middle of the interstate, slinging loose gravel from the shoulder as he spun the tires and headed back in the direction of Aisy's bar. The Porsche purred beneath his hands as Sam curled his fingers around the steering wheel, nudging the car to go faster.

The smell of smoke filled his nose long before Sam could see the bar, and he choked back the bile that rose into his throat as he topped the hill and saw the Twisted Horse completely engulfed in flames. "What the hell?" Sam said, skidding the car to a stop in the gravel parking lot. He didn't bother to take the keys as he jumped out, tying his flannel shirt around his head before running in through the shattered front door.

"Aisy!" Sam called, his voice muffled by the roaring flames and falling embers. "Aisy!" He picked his way through the destroyed room, his lungs burning and eyes watering as he dropped to his knees to try and get fresh air. "Son of a bitch," he muttered, coughing harder as he crawled through the debris toward the storeroom.

Aisy groaned as she tried to open her eyes and pain shot through her head. What happened? Something crashed outside the storeroom, and her eyes flew open as she remembered the fire. She rolled off the cot, crawling toward the door and coughing as thick smoke burned her lungs. The muffled sound of Sam calling for her sent a nervous tingle through her body. Was he really here, or was Drexil just trying to trick her?

"Sam! Is that you?" Aisy coughed, crawling along the floor as her name echoed over the sound of the flames again. "Sam!"

"Aisy!" Sam said hoarsely, catching sight of her crawling toward him. "Are you alright?"

Aisy shook her head, blinking as what was left of the room spun around her. "No, but we'll both be dead if we don't get out of here. C'mon." She took Sam's hand, leading him toward the back exit. A few feet from the door, a deafening crack pierced the air, and Aisy glanced up just as the fire burned through one of the rafters directly above Sam, sending it hurtling toward the floor, leaving a trail of flames behind.

"No!" Aisy screamed, throwing out her hands and telepathically catching the beam, tossing it in the opposite direction away from them. She froze, realizing a second too late what she'd done as she stared into Sam's wide, incredulous eyes. "C'mon," she said, gesturing toward the exit and crawling away. "You can hunt me after we get out of here."

Seconds later, Sam and Aisy burst through the exit door, to be met with lights and sirens as the fire truck and ambulance rolled into the parking lot. Sam took deep, gulping breaths of the crisp air as Aisy pulled him farther away from the burning building. Firefighters rushed past the two of them as EMT's wrapped them in blankets, guiding them toward the ambulance and strapping oxygen masks on each of their faces.

"You two were lucky," one of the paramedics said. "How did the fire start?"

"Not sure," Aisy said with a small shrug. "I was catching a nap in the storeroom before the evening rush and I woke up to the whole place on fire."

Sam watched Aisy lie through her teeth and wondered what the hell was going on for about the dozenth time since she saved his life. Aislinn Mallory was definitely not human, and Sam wasn't sure how to feel about that. Dean would want her dead when he found out, and there was no way to keep something like that a secret for long.

"Sir?" the paramedic said, waving his hand in front of Sam.

"What? Oh, sorry. What did you say?" Sam said with a sheepish smile.

"I asked what you were doing here," the paramedic replied with exaggerated patience.

"He saved my life," Aisy blurted, giving the paramedic her most convincing smile. Like I said, I was asleep in the backroom and he saw the fire and came to find me."

"I see," the paramedic said, not sounding convinced. "Well, don't go anywhere. The sheriff will need to take your statement for the report."

"Thank you," Sam whispered, setting off a round of hacking and coughing. His lungs felt like someone poured hot coals inside them, and every breath he took reminded him of a boa constrictor squeezing his chest.

Aisy watched Sam's face change three shades as he coughed and pressed the oxygen mask harder to his face. "C'mere," she whispered, gesturing toward him. He gave her a wary glance, then shifted his gaze to the paramedic who had gone to find the sheriff. "Sam, I can help your pain, but you have to trust me."

Sam shook his head, then coughed again, wheezing and gasping so hard that Aisy didn't wait for his permission. She placed one hand on the front of his chest and the other on his back. "Sana, respirare, caeli," she murmured. Almost instantly, the constriction around Sam's chest lessened and he finally caught his breath.

"What are you?" Sam said, and Aisy tried not to think about the meaning behind his words. He no longer saw her as a woman, and perhaps he never did, but being referred to the same way as the monsters she'd spent her life hunting hurt more than she'd anticipated.

"Does it matter?" Aisy replied with a soft sigh. "As soon as this is over, you and Dean are going to hunt me anyway. It's what hunters do, right? Stab first, ask questions later?"

"Dean used to," Sam croaked, taking a couple of breaths and testing his lung capacity. "Now he at least tries to talk first, then stabs. I think we have Hope to thank for that."

"Here's the deal," Aisy said, dropping her voice to a whisper as the sheriff glanced their way. "I'll tell you anything you want to know if you'll distract everyone long enough for me to get into my apartment. There's a floor safe that I need to empty before I leave. It's got some family heirlooms and a few other things that might be hard to explain to anyone that isn't a hunter, ya know?"

Sam nodded, gesturing in agreement and watching in horror and fascination as Aisy walked around the side of the ambulance and snapped her fingers, disappearing into thin air. His mind raced with the possibilities of how useful an invisibility spell might be when he felt a heavy hand touch his shoulder. Sam turned toward the sheriff, flashing his most innocent smile.

"Can I help you?" Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Where did your friend go?" the sheriff said, glancing around the ambulance for Aisy.

"She, uh, had to make a phone call," Sam said, shrugging. "Insurance company."

"Mhmm," the sheriff said, eyeing Sam dubiously. "So do you want to tell me what happened here, son?"

"First of all," Sam said, his tone steel beneath the polite surface, "I'm not your son. And like she told the paramedic, I saw the smoke and went inside to see if anyone needed help. That's all."

"You didn't see anyone leaving the premises?"

"No, sir," Sam said, shaking his head and glancing around for Aisy. She waved to him from the corner of the burned-out building, casually strolling to Sam's side.

"Hey," Sam said, giving her a lopsided smile, "all done on the phone with the insurance company?"

"Yes," Aisy said, not missing a beat. "They're going to send someone out in a couple of days to assess the damages. Are we done here?"

"For now," the sheriff said, eyeing the two of them with suspicion. "Don't go too far."

Sam and Aisy both nodded in response, and Sam let out a breath as the sheriff walked away. "So, did you get whatever you were after?"

Aisy nodded, taking Sam by the arm and leading him toward Hope's car. "I will tell you everything, but not right now. Please just trust me for a little while longer, Sam."

Sam nodded, clamping down on the apprehension threatening to overwhelm him. He leaned against the hood of the Porsche, crossing his legs at the ankles and watching the firefighters finish their work. His phone buzzed, and he finished it out of his pocket.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, pressing the phone to his ear. "How's the drive?"

"Silent," Dean said. "Hope and I aren't talking at the moment. How are you?"

"Well, I, uh, haven't left Nebraska yet," Sam said, rubbing the back of his neck. "There was a fire at the Twisted Horse Saloon after I dropped Aisy off."

"Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine, Dean. Aisy's okay too, but to be honest, I don't know what happened. She promised to explain once the cops are gone."

"I knew something was off about her, Sam. I knew it."

"Why? Because her bar burned down? Come on, Dean. Look, the sheriff's coming back. I gotta go. I'll call you soon." Sam shoved the phone back into his pocket, pushing off the car to stand up to his full height.

The sheriff sauntered over to them and put his hands on his hips. "You two are free to go, but stay available in case we have any more questions, understood?"

"Got it," Sam said with a smile. He nodded toward Aisy as he opened the door. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I believe I owe you an explanation," Aisy replied as she slid into the passenger seat.

Sam started the car, stifling a yawn. "I hope you don't mind, but I need to find a place to crash for a few hours. I can't even remember the last time I slept."

"No problem," Aisy said with a strained smile. "There's a motel about twenty minutes up the interstate."

"That'll work."

A half-hour later, Sam parked the car outside a garish motel painted with tropical colors. Sam growled as he opened the motel room door and collapsed face-first into the only bed. Aisy rolled her eyes, closing the door behind her and eyeing the bed longingly. She was exhausted, but she wasn't about to fall asleep next to a man that might kill her while she slept. Instead, she settled herself into the armchair in the corner of the room, propping her feet up on the ottoman.

"Aisy," Sam said, his voice muffled by the pillow. He lifted his head, his eyelids drooping heavily as he brushed the hair out of his face. "What are you doing?"

"Keeping myself safe—ish," Aisy replied, rolling her eyes. "You're a hunter, Sam. Inevitably you'll do what hunters do, and I'd like some dingy motel room out on the ass end of nowhere to not be my final resting place, thank you very much."

Sam groaned, propping his back against the wall as he gave her an 'are you stupid' look. "You're a hunter too, or have you forgotten?"

"I was a hunter," Aisy corrected. "My parents were hunters, and I was raised as one, but it's been years since I've considered myself a true hunter. True hunters wouldn't see me as one, either."

"Maybe not," Sam said, rubbing an eye with the heel of his hand. A colossal yawn escaped him as he shook his head, trying to force himself to stay awake. "But I'm not most hunters, and I'm too exhausted to try and kill you right now. From the look of it, you're exhausted too. So why don't we make a deal? Nobody kills anybody, and we both get a few hours sleep in this bed, what do you say?" Aisy nodded, crawling into the bed next to Sam as he curled onto his side, back facing her. She did the same, and within moments they were both snoring softly.

Sam opened his eyes several hours later, disoriented and unsure of what year it was. He swiped grumpily at the hair covering his face before realizing it wasn't his own. He glanced at the back of Aisy's head as he smoothed her hair and tried not to think about how naturally she fit in the space next to him. There was still the unsettling matter of her not being human, although that revelation didn't exactly surprise him. He'd known something was different when they were in the cabin, and he'd seen the anti-possession tattoo on her side when she'd cleared out the safe, which only left magical options.

Sam was shaken out of his thoughts by the incessant buzzing of his cell phone on the end table, and he turned it on its edge to look at the caller ID, grumbling under his breath as he sat up and answered the call.

"Sam?" Dean demanded, his voice crackling through the speaker. "Where the hell are you? You should've been here hours ago!"

Sam yawned, checking the bedside clock and supposed knowing what time it was would've been more useful if he'd been aware of what time it was when they got there. He glanced out the window, still dark. Well, that was something, at least. "Yeah, sorry Dean. I was too tired to drive so I got a motel to grab a few hours of shut eye. We'll be on the road soon. Tell Hope her car is fine."

"You can tell her yourself, when you get here. I'm still not talking to her."

"Because that's mature. What the hell happened anyway?"

"She lied to me, Sam. About something pretty big."

"You mean about being pregnant? The doctor said she probably didn't know." Sam glanced over his shoulder and saw Aisy still sound asleep. He slipped on his boots and walked outside, leaving the door slightly open as he talked.

"She was pregnant before, Sam. After the rape. One of those shitstains got her pregnant."

"And? Did you not think it was a possibility? What happened to the baby?"

"She said she had an ectoplasmotic pregnancy, and they had to do surgery on her to save her life. That two weeks she was super busy right before everything went to hell? Yeah, she was recovering from surgery, Sam! She lied to me all that time."

"You mean—ectopic pregnancy?" Sam stifled a grin as he continued. "I mean, do you blame her, Dean? She'd just been through the worst time in her life, only to have to wade through more shit on top of it. And then with everything that happened between you two; I mean, I get it."

"You know what I meant, college boy. Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"The side where you two fucking talk to each other."

"Not helping, Sam."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Dean. Talk to her." Sam held the phone in front of his mouth, speaking directly into the speaker, and then pressed it back to his ear as Dean growled a sigh into the phone.

"Fine," Dean grumbled. "Get your ass back on the road, and soon."

Sam chuckled, hearing Dean's eyes roll through the phone. "Bye, Dean." He ended the call, laying the phone beside him on the hood as he leaned back and contemplated what he could see of the sky. The motel parking lot was lit up too much to see any stars, but the vastness of the sky held the first pink and gold streaks of dawn, and he let his mind wander into what to do about Aisy. He was so engrossed in his thoughts he didn't notice when she appeared in the doorway.

"Sam?" Aisy said, frowning as she stuck her head out the door. "What are you doing out here?

"Dean called, and I didn't want to wake you," Sam replied, groaning slightly as he pushed himself off the car. "How are you? Did you sleep alright?"

"I mean, this place isn't the Waldorf or anything, but yeah, I slept alright," Aisy said with a grin. Sam chuckled, not missing the flash of sadness and worry in her eyes, and he wondered what it could be about. It was gone an instant later, replaced by a mischievous glint. "So I'm gonna shower real quick and then we can hit the road. Wanna join me?"

Sam was already nodding in acknowledgment to hitting the road, and he choked, coughing so hard his face turned crimson. Aisy laughed, calling over her shoulder as she disappeared inside the bathroom. "Relax, Sam. I was kidding. This shower is entirely too small for both of us."

Sam snorted as he gathered up the clothing items Aisy had dropped outside the bathroom door and shoved them into her duffle. His hand smacked against a small wooden box etched with an Aquarian Star, and he picked it up, turning it over in his hand. "What the hell?" He muttered as he studied the box, not noticing the water in the shower had stopped running.

"Find something interesting?" Aisy said, walking out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped tightly around her body as she used another to squeeze water from her chestnut brown curls.

Sam dropped the box into the duffle and zipped it up, turning toward her with a sheepish smile. He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the various rune-like tattoos that covered her upper arms and shoulders. He stifled a smile at one tattoo on Aisy's right shoulder blade of Princess Leia wearing a bikini and straddling a 20-sided die. "Not on purpose, I was getting stuff together to load the car and I found the box in your bag. Is that what was so important you had to go back for it?"

"Yes," Aisy replied, twisting her hair up into the towel and eying Sam warily. "And no. It's complicated, and I don't make it a habit to tell my life story to people who will eventually try to murder me." She stared at him for a moment, then grabbed her duffel bag and walked away, muttering, "I learned that one the hard way."

"Why do you think I'm going to kill you, Aisy?" Sam snapped. "Why would I do that? You helped save Hope's life. Hell, you saved my life! I would've died in that fire if you hadn't done what you did."

"A fire that you shouldn't have been in, by the way," she reminded him. "Why the hell did you come back anyway?" Aisy said, walking into the bathroom to put on her clothes.

"It's complicated," Sam replied, parroting Aisy's words back to her. "I just had a feeling something was wrong. You wanna tell me what happened?"

"That," Aisy said, stepping out of the bathroom and tossing her bag to Sam, "is a story for the road. Over breakfast. And coffee."