AN: Check the end of the chapter for content/trigger warning.

There's a scream lodged in her throat when Patience bolts upright in bed. Sweat beads on her forehead and her breath comes in quick, shallow gasps. She turns her head to the side. The alarm clock on her bedside table reads 1:00 am, just about half an hour later than in the glimpse she'd caught of the watch on Sam's wrist in her dream.

But it can't have been a dream, Patience thinks. No, nightmare. It'd felt more like a vision, despite being asleep for it. She usually has them in her waking hours, glimpses of future events here and there. Sometimes, they're even useful. This one, though, had felt different. Very real. As if she'd been there during the events, only in slight fast forward. Everything seemed to be going faster, like time itself was out of whack. She wonders why, as she runs a hand over her face and takes a calming breath.

The door to the bedroom swings open and Jody walks in, gun in hand, seeming ready for anything. Patience shakes her head in a sign that there's no need for the weapon. Jody lowers it.

"Bad dream?" she asks.

"I don't know," Patience says. "Felt more like a vision."

"What did you see?" Jody sits down on the edge of the bed. "I take it that it's something bad."

Patience describes what she's witnessed, feeling the knot in her throat tighten with every word she utters. If what she'd seen came to pass tonight, it was definitely too late. She says as much.

"But if it hasn't," Jody says, "we might still be able to warn them. Maybe even stop it."

"Yeah, you're right."

Still, Patience has a bad feeling about this. It'd felt more intense than any other vision she'd had before. But most of her premonitions had warned of events way ahead of time, with a few exceptions. Jody might be right, though. It might be something that hasn't happened yet. The time Patience had read on Sam's watch, as he embraced his dead brother, could be for another day altogether. Just because it'd been dark in the vision, doesn't mean that it's this night.

Patience follows Jody into the living room and sits on the couch. She listens to Jody leave several messages. Neither Sam, nor Dean picks up and Jody looks visibly more worried each time she's met with voicemail. Patience wraps her arms around her midriff and shivers.

"Sam's phone keeps ringing until it reaches voicemail," Jody says, seating herself at the other end of the couch. "So at least his phone is on. Dean's seems to be off, though. Straight to the answering machine."

"What if it's already happened?"

"No way to know, unless one of them answers. You okay?"

"Not really." Patience swallows audibly, ignoring the roiling sensation in her stomach. "I've never had one like this before."

Jody puts one of the throw blankets over her shoulders and goes to get dressed. There's no one else in the house. Alex has the night shift, while Claire and Kaia are on a hunt. So Patience gets up too and heads back to her room to take her phone. She wants to call Dean. But the result is the same, and with Sam's number as well. She doesn't know why she'd expected any other outcome.

Dropping the throw blanket, Patience pulls a robe over her pajamas and then makes her way back to the living room. It's almost two in the morning already. When Jody returns from upstairs, she's got her phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, talking to someone. Patience perks up at that.

"As soon as I find out what's going on, I'll call you back," Jody says. "Thanks, Donna."

The hope of good news coming their way is dashed.

"Donna says to call Eileen, if Sam's still not picking up within the next half hour," Jody continues. "I also called Claire, but she doesn't know what's going on either. Or where Sam and Dean are."

"If what I saw really did happen already, you realize that Sam won't be answering his phone anyway." Patience bites her lip to keep it from trembling. "If Dean's gone, Sam's gonna be a mess. He won't want to talk to anyone."

"I know," Jody says. "What I'm more worried about is him doing something stupid. Those two literally can't live without each other."

The words are barely spoken when Jody dials another number. The screen lights up in a video call and, almost immediately, Eileen picks up, wide awake and flashing them a cheerful grin. Her expression turns serious when Jody tells her why she's called.

Patience makes sure she's visible when she describes her vision, also using signs when talking - just like Eileen. It's something that gets harder to do every time she has to recount what she'd seen. Because she still can't get the sound of Dean's last breath out of her mind. Nor the sound of Sam's sobs, afterward. She suspects that those will remain imprinted in her memory for a long time. And it hurts to think about, especially knowing how close the brothers had been.

"I'll pack up and head there right away," Eileen says, looking like she means it literally. "I've just finished up here."

"Where are you?" Jody asks.

"I'm in Monroe, Louisiana. When I last talked to Sam, he and Dean were in Ohio. In Akron. They were planning to follow the pattern to Canton."

"What pattern?"

"It's an older case," Eileen says, swiping a hand over her left cheek. "Their dad tried to solve it in the mid eighties, but couldn't find the culprits. Lost the trail."

"Okay, I'm gonna head out there too," Jody says, "see if I can find out what's going on. If you talk to any of them first, let me know, will you?"

"Sure thing. You do the same."

Eileen hangs up and Jody stuffs the phone in her pocket. The silence is so thick, that a pin dropping now would sound like an explosion. Patience's heart constricts at the thought that this might very well be the end of the line for Dean, no matter what they do. Hopefully, they can be there for Sam, if nothing else.

"I'll keep trying to call him," Patience says, as Jody puts on a jacket. "If Sam answers, I'll let you know."

"Okay. Thanks, sweety." Jody gives her a sad smile. "If I find out something before you do, I'll give you a ring."

Within the next few minutes, she's out the door. Patience is grateful that Jody hadn't tried to convince her to go back to bed. They both know that that's not going to work. Not with the way she'd woken up.

She's not the praying kind, but Patience does say a quick one in her mind. There's still hope that her vision hasn't come to pass yet. Slim as it may be. So she sits back on the couch and dials Sam's number again. And again. As many times as it takes.

Sam sits in the Impala, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, staring out the windshield at the barn where his brother had died. Which is on fire. He takes a swig of booze, not taking his eyes off the blaze still burning bright. When his phone starts ringing again, he ignores it. He's numb to the sound now.

He'd almost jumped out of his skin the first time it rang. It was mere minutes after Dean gave his last breath, and he'd been ignoring it ever since.

It took about half an hour to get Dean's body off that rebar and wrap him in a white sheet. He sat the kids in the back seat , but didn't want to traumatize them even more by having them ride alongside a corpse. And he also didn't want to shove Dean in the trunk. No way.

So he left his brother on the other side of the barn, laying him on some bales of hay. He'd moved the headless vampires—and their heads—into a neat pile, as far away as possible from Dean. The plan was to come back for him.

The two kids were scared. Very scared. But they'd trusted him. He managed to convince them to lie and say, when they got home, that he found them on the side of the road. That they'd escaped on their own and didn't know where exactly they'd been kept. That would give him time, Sam thought, to get everything sorted.

And when the oldest asked, in a small voice, what happened to his friend, Sam couldn't bring himself to tell him that the other man had died. That that had been his older brother. So he told them that his friend was making sure that the bad men could never hurt anyone ever again.

He then took them home to their grandmother, who also lived in town, and waited just long enough to be certain the woman came to the door. Barely able to see to drive back, Sam had had to stop a few times, when the tears in his eyes all but blinded him. He couldn't even breathe properly.

On the last stop, he got out the bottle of whiskey that was stashed in the corner of their armory in the trunk. Part of Dean's med kit, he remembered. Sam took a few long swallows, almost choking at the taste at first, until he got used to it. The memory of having to pull Dean off that rebar was still playing on a loop.

It was one of the hardest things he'd had to do, ever since Dean's first death. The worst part was needing to move a loved one's dead body and realizing it'd started to cool.

After calming down a bit, Sam got back in the car and drove the last stretch to the barn. He thought he'd have to deal with an even harder task: giving Dean a hunter's funeral. Something he'd refused to do before, every time Dean died. But when he got there, the barn was on fire. The blaze was so intense, he had to shield his eyes.

At first, Sam tried to get in, determined not to let Dean burn alongside a bunch of monsters. He deserved a proper funeral. But after almost catching fire himself a few times in his attempts, he realized that it was all in vain. He would only end up hurting himself and—though he was very tempted to just give up—he'd promised Dean he wouldn't do that. He'd promised he would keep fighting.

So now he waits for the fire to burn itself out, ignoring the ringing of his phone in the car's passenger seat. He can't talk to anyone right now. Can't face having to explain what had happened. He knows he'll have to call Eileen later, when he's able to recover Dean's remains.

It still feels unreal that his brother's gone. Really gone. It'll probably be like that for a long time. The thing that hurts most, though, is knowing that this is final. Dean's not coming back. Ever. Jack had made it clear that he's not interfering on their behalf. This is the end of the line for one of them. The point of no return.

Sam feels his heart clench painfully at that thought. It's a similar sensation to the one he'd felt the first time Dean had died, at the claws of hellhounds. It'd felt final then, too, but he'd had the hope of getting his brother back someway. He knows he can't do that now. Dean had asked him not to try, because it always ends up becoming a mess. No matter how much it hurts, this is their chance to break the cycle Chuck had put them in. Dean had been right. And Sam will respect his dying wish.

The phone rings again. Sam does what he's been doing since it'd started doing that hours ago. He ignores it. Lets it go to voicemail. Doesn't even look to see who it is as he exits the car.

He takes another gulp of whiskey. It burns on the way down his throat, but the sensation does little to dull Sam's pain. The sting from his burns, though, are a welcome distraction from the emotional agony. Staring at the flames, he feels the urge to jump in again. He fights it. For Dean, he'll go on.

More tears spring to his eyes at the thought of continuing hunting without his brother. He wipes them away. This is so not fair. That he gets to continue enjoying freedom from Chuck, but Dean doesn't. They'd only gotten a few months of it, going on a few hunts here and there. Doing other things, just because they could, out of their own initiative and not because the Almighty God had willed it for his own entertainment. If they'd only gotten more time, then maybe… No, it would still be hard. But it'd be a different kind of hard.

Sam knows Eileen will be by his side. At least, he'd gotten her back. Hunting with her won't be the same, but at least he won't be alone. They'd talked about where their relationship would go, shortly after Chuck's defeat. Talked about their feelings, which had still been there, even after the old God's downfall. Those had been their own, after all. So they'd decided to give it another shot. Free now, to explore what they could be without the influence of an all-powerful being.

He'll call her when this is all over. Once he's put Dean's soul to rest and buried the ashes, he'll seek Eileen out. Right now, he needs to be alone with his thoughts. Sam has to deal with this the only way he knows how.

So he continues to watch the fire, steadily emptying the bottle as the barn keeps burning. In the back of his mind, Sam knows it is highly suspicious that this place in the middle of nowhere conveniently caught fire. He has an inkling that the vamp nest might have been bigger than just those they'd killed. Which means that they're still out there. And if some vamp had decided to deprive him of offering his brother a befitting sendoff, there'll be hell to pay. Sam will hunt them down. Find them.

He takes yet another swig of booze. Leans on the front of the Impala, its keys heavy in his pocket. He'll have to wait until daylight to go through the wreckage, but the fire is already starting to die down. It won't be long now. And Sam has all the time in the world.

The phone keeps ringing at steady intervals. And Sam keeps ignoring it. He'll apologize to whoever it is later

The first thing Jo did upon reaching Alan's home was ask him to take her to a tattoo parlor. She got cleaned up and Hazel found her some clothes to wear. And she got her anti possession tattoo redone, in the exact same spot it'd been before, on her stomach, a little ways below and to the left of her navel. The woman who did it, didn't ask about her scars, thankfully. After a long discussion with the other three, she convinced them to get their own.

Hazel then helped her to get a few changes of clothes for herself. Jo went for her usual style: jeans, shirts, tank tops, a couple of jackets. Sleepwear and some sweats. Not too much, just the essentials so she wouldn't run around either naked or in someone else's wardrobe.

In time, she'd have to check if any of her storage units were still intact. She and her mom paid the fees for at least a decade in advance. Maybe they hadn't yet been cleared out.

A few weeks later, Jo decided it was time for a radical change. She'd already done some of that by picking more colorful clothes to wear than she'd had before. Some more green, yellow and red. Less black and gray. But she also wanted to do something new with her hair. Because it was long. Longer than it had been before her death, for some reason. She braided it a few times, but didn't like that anymore and struggled to find ways to make it practical. Hazel suggested getting it trimmed.

Jo decided to go one step further and got it cut short. The hairdresser did a very good job. Jo had had her cut it into a bob, then changed her mind and asked the woman to cut it to just below the ear on the right, and to above on the left. With her hair having gotten a bit wavier, the new style suited her well. Still feminine, yet easier to manage on a hunt. It made Jo happy. The change felt like a new beginning.

The Montgomerys had urged her to stick around with them for a bit, in order to regain her hunting legs, so to speak. And Jo appreciated that, because she didn't know where else to go. Most of the people she knew, including Bobby, were dead. And she hadn't been ready for any of the other, still alive, familiar faces just yet. Therefore, she got back into the habit of refreshing her knowledge. On the nights when she couldn't sleep, she read through Alan's case files to catch up on some of what she'd missed. It wasn't much, but it was something. Also, she read through the many books Alan's family had amassed over time, even though she already knew everything written in them. Because Jo wouldn't be caught with her pants down again, like she'd been in Carthage. That had been proof that knowing something was way different than experiencing it. She'd known about hellhounds, but had never come across one before that day and hadn't been equipped to deal with one. And it'd cost her both her life and the equivalent of an eternity in Hell. Not to mention missing over a decade topside.

Jo shakes herself out of her recollection of events, because now she's ready, gearing up to get back in the saddle. Jim had just caught wind of a case and she's chomping at the bit to take it. It's something local, so they won't have to go far.

Whatever it is, it's targeting families, with one or more children. The father is killed and drained of blood, while the mother is left alive to bear witness, but with her tongue cut out. According to reports, the attackers wear masks, usually working in pairs. And the children are never again found. Probably vampires.

"It's been going on since at least the eighties," Alan says. "Even though I've lived in the area my whole life, I've never been able to find the bastards. I think they know there's a hunter living close by, because they usually strike when I'm away from home."

"You weren't here when they attacked in Akron, though," Jim pipes up. "You were gone to check out that ghost in Chicago when I called you back. So they knew you weren't around."

"So they always follow the same pattern?" Jo asks.

"They don't consistently pick the same time frame," Alan says, "but yeah. Every few years when they strike, they do so when I'm on a hunt elsewhere. By the time I make it back, it's all over."

"That means they know who you are and where you live," Jo says. She finds that extremely unsettling. "They must be watching you."

"Oh, I'm sure of it." Alan closes the file of information he'd gathered over the years. "I still don't know why they haven't tried to take me out yet, seeing how I live right in their preferred hunting location."

"Maybe whoever the nest leader is takes pleasure in you knowing that they could get to you any time they wanted." Jo suppresses the shudder the mere thought brings about. "I've come across monsters who are like that. Demons, too. They like playing those kinds of mind games. Gives them an extra kick."

"Well, if they follow their usual MO," Jim says, "they're gonna be in Canton next. Then here, in East Sparta, a few days later."

"So, if they think you're out of town," Jo continues, "then I say we try to take them by surprize. When exactly will they hit Canton?"

"Probably tonight," Jim says. "They always start in Akron, then head south."

"If we can't catch them in Canton," Jo says, "then we'll wait for them to get here. This is a smaller town, so it might be easier to spot possible suspects."

"You're right," Alan says. "I'll put the gear together, you two get ready."

Jo feels a thrill of excitement run through her at that, a sensation she's always felt at the prospect of a new hunt. She'd almost forgotten what it's like. It now returns, like an old friend lost at sea for eons. For a split second after, though, there's a slight pang of mingled pain and guilt at the reminder of her mom. Because they used to do this together. But she pushes it down. Her mother is in Heaven and she trusts Jack's word that she's alright. At peace. It's time to move on.

So Jo does just that as she prepares to continue her family's legacy. It's something she'd wanted her whole life, something she'd done for a while and been good at. Any uncertainty she'd felt the past few weeks slips away. Alan's an experienced hunter in his own right. She's certain that he'd trained Jim to be just as skilled. They're a good team to help her get back in the game.

It's afternoon by the time the three of them are ready. Hazel is on standby at home, in case of any injuries on the job. She's a surgeon and has patched up many of Alan's friends throughout the years. Their residence is even equipped with a medical room, stocked and ready for almost anything. Jo also still remembers her training from college, even though she'd dropped out in her third year. It's the kind of thing you don't tend to forget.

If all goes well, Jo hopes the only medical attention they'll be needing is cleaning up a few scrapes. But this life is unpredictable. Jo's stint in Hell is proof of that, as well as most of her acquaintances in the hunting life having died during the last decade. So it's better to be prepared and safe, than sorry.

Jo sits in the back seat as Alan's monster of a pick-up truck roars along the road between East Sparta and Canton. They circle the outskirts of the latter, hoping to find the nest in the daylight, but there's no sign of them. Jo hopes that they hadn't caught wind of Alan being back in town. If they lose the trail now, it'll be years before they have another chance.

Night falls as they're patrolling a neighborhood on the western side of Canton. But looking for a potential nest of vampires, in a town that size, is like searching for a needle in a haystack. A very big haystack. They could be anywhere. Or they could have taken their next victim and gone on their merry way. Next stop, East Sparta, if they're lucky. There's nothing over the police scanner, either, that resembles their kind of thing. It's all too quiet.

It's well after midnight when they decide to start searching the stretch of road north of Canton. There are several abandoned properties between the two towns where the monsters could be hiding. Jim had already searched some of them—as well as the ones closer to home—the day before, after calling his father to tell him about the case. They go through them again, move on to the next one on the map, hoping that this time, they'll find something. Anything, no matter how small a clue.

Just outside the southern edge of Akron, far from the beaten path, they come across an old farm. Jo notices that the house is long gone, maybe in a fire. But the barn still remains. She glances over Jim's shoulder at the map and sees that it's marked as Johnson's Farm. Dates from the early 1900s. And it's also one Jim hadn't managed to search yet.

Alan cuts the engine and the three of them exit the car. Jo grabs a flashlight from her gear bag and illuminates the empty driveway, because the moonlight isn't quite enough to see by. Unlike all the other places they'd checked so far, though, this one has tire tracks on the dirt path. Fresh ones. They lead all the way to the big double doors of the barn. A second set, from a different car, almost covers the first, then does a u-turn and leads back to the main road.

Pretty fast, Jo becomes aware of the eerie silence. The barn looks dark and foreboding, more so than the other places, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. She draws her machete. Follows Jim and Alan as they tip-toe to the entrance, all the while pushing down the feeling of something isn't right. When she looks down to the ground, Jo sees footprints leading away from the main doors, heading around to the left of the structure. She signals to Jim, who joins her. They find a smaller side entrance. More footprints there. Some of them are different men's sizes, but two sets are tiny in comparison. Most likely made by children. A sure bet that this is where the nest is hiding.

Those two sets seem to lead into the overgrown bushes at the edge of what used to be the yard. Jim goes to check them out, but comes back shaking his head. Nothing there. He pulls out a tranq gun—which Jo knows is loaded with dead man's blood—and pushes open the door to the barn. Alan follows close by, while Jo covers the rear of the group.

Inside, the stench of blood permeates the air. The beams of their flashlights fall upon the severed head of one of the mask-wearing vamp suspects. A few feet farther along, several bodies are piled together, as well as their heads. All covered in masks, except one. It's a woman's head and Jim bends down to inspect her teeth.

"Yep," he says, voice quiet. "Definitely vamps. Whoever took this many out was very good." He gets back to his feet. "I wonder why they didn't clean up. Must have left in a hurry."

"You think one hunter did all this?" Alan asks, looking around.

He seems to see something, because he moves to the side swiftly. When he points his flashlight towards one of the support beams, Jo realizes what he'd noticed. It's a piece of rebar, bent and attached to the wood, possibly to be used as an improvised hook. And it's covered in blood. Jim sees it too and starts checking the corpses for injuries.

"None of them suffered any wounds, apart from the beheading," he says when he's finished. "You think it was more hunters and one of them got hurt?"

"It's possible," Alan says.

Jo gets closer and touches the metal rod. Her fingers come off wet, which means that the blood is relatively fresh. The rebar is at an angle, so if the person got impaled on it, it was more than likely fatal. It's a horrifying thought.

As Jim heads deeper into the barn, Jo does a quick count of the corpses and comes to the conclusion that there must have been at least two people involved to take out that many vampires. If not more. She knows that very few hunters are that skilled to eliminate a nest of this size. And most of those she knows are long gone.

"I don't think that whoever did this worked alone," Jo says. "It must have been a team. Especially considering the size of those guys."

"I agree," Alan responds, seeming to do his own head count. "With how bulky and tall those fuckers were, they must have been plenty strong. Even if they'd been simple humans, they could still have overpowered a couple of regular joes."

"So at least one gets hurt," Jo continues, "or killed, by the looks of it. The others take them to get help and the kids home. Still doesn't explain why one of them didn't stay behind to at least start the clean up."

"I think I know why," comes Jim's voice from the other side of the barn.

Jo and Alan hurry to join him. It seems this new body Jim had found isn't a vamp, because it's wrapped in a white sheet. Looks male, by the shape and size. Since the makeshift shroud hadn't been bound, Jim squats close by to reveal who it is.

But as soon as the face is uncovered, Jo feels as if someone shoved a knife through her heart and ice into her lungs. For a few seconds, she can't breathe. Her machete slips from numb fingers and she reflexively brings her other hand to cover her mouth. Vaguely, she hears both Jim and Alan mutter a quiet curse, each a different one.

The man is Dean. Dean Winchester, quite a bit older than the last time Jo had seen him, his skin almost as pale as the sheet he's wrapped in. He's stretched out on some old bales of hay. Great care seems to have been taken with his lifeless body, like whoever laid him there intended to come back. That someone must have been Sam, because Jo knows Dean likely wouldn't hunt with anyone else by his side. But it's obvious that Sam must have gone to get the kids to safety first. He hadn't had the time—and maybe not even the mental energy—to do anything more. Jo can't even imagine the pain he must be in right now. She hopes he won't do something stupid, like Dean did years ago for him.

Jo watches, dazed, as Jim checks Dean for injuries. When he finds no sign of a wound on his torso, he rolls the body over. Jo sees it then. A pool of blood under his upper back and staining most of his jacket. At the center of it all, there's a hole very close to the spine. It fits their theory of having been impaled on the rebar. God, it must have been a horrible way to go, she thinks.

But as Jim replaces the body in its initial position, Jo hears the unmistakable sound of a low groan. Her heart does a painful thump in her chest. The others seem to have heard it too. With a trembling hand, Jim checks for a pulse. As she looks on, Jo can swear that she sees Dean's chest rise and fall in irregular, shallow breaths. She can even hear them now, when she couldn't before. Jim's eyes go wide.

"He's alive," he announces. "I can feel a weak heartbeat and he's breathing."

Jo lowers the hand that's been covering her mouth until now and picks up her machete. Sheaths it. She removes the scarf from around her neck, then kneels by Dean's side and shoves the garment under his jacket against the wound.

"You think that sheet will hold him if we use it as a makeshift stretcher?" Jim asks his father.

Alan checks it out.

"Yeah," he says, nodding. "Looks strong enough." He bends down to pick one end. "Jo, I need you to get the gasoline from the truck and douse the place in it. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure," Jo says.

She does what he's asked her to. Jim and Alan, meanwhile, get Dean to the backseat of the car. Which is not an easy feat, considering the latter is taller than both Montgomery men. Once she's done, Jo gets in the back too, and settles Dean's head and shoulders on her lap. He barely fits, and his legs are bent in an uncomfortable looking way, but she manages to apply pressure to his injury. With a little luck, Hazel might be able to help.

It feels surreal, after not seeing him for such a long time. Jo starts getting over the initial shock of thinking Dean had died. She still feels off-kilter, but there's a spark of hope blooming. Right alongside the dread that, after all she's been through, she'll still have to watch him die. And that, this time, it'll be for real. Permanent too.

Alan gets behind the wheel and Jim sets fire to the barn, which breaks Jo out of her thoughts. The car starts moving immediately after Jim gets in, who then calls his mother to tell her to prepare for an incoming patient. Jo half listens to the conversation, when she notices Alan casting curious glances at her through the rearview mirror every now and then.

"I wonder why the other Winchester left his brother for dead," he finally says. "Word across the hunting world is that they're inseparable, even in death."

"That's something I'm actually worried about," Jo says. "Last time one of them died, the other sold his soul to get him back. We won't know for sure, though, until we also find Sam."

"Yeah, I know about that." Alan makes a left turn. "Although, over the last decade, I've heard a lot weirder stuff involving those two."

"No, I think Sam must have really thought his brother was dead," Jim chimes in. He's finished with his phone call. "It's possible that Dean went into a state of shock, either from the sudden blood loss or the pain. Maybe both. Slowed his heartbeat to nearly nonexistent for a while."

"That would explain the use of the shroud," Jo says. "You guys met the brothers before?"

"I did once, years ago," Alan says. "Only one of them, though. Dean saved my life when one of my hunts went sideways and the damned thing almost followed me home. Haven't seen him since. And I never met Sam or their dad." He chuckles. "Besides, they're plenty famous as renowned serial killers. Didn't you know?"

"Oh, yeah, the news reports."

Jo remembers, some years back, that there used to be profiles of Dean in several databases, especially the FBI one. There were also a number of true crime blogs and forums that talked about cases where he was the main suspect. She'd come across a few while looking for a hunt, way back when she'd been hunting with her mom.

"I remember that there was quite a following to one particular blog I've found more recently," she continues. "It looked like it was written by a teenage girl with a crush on the idea of serial killers. Had Dean among the many listed."

"Yep, you get the crazy crap on the internet a lot more easily, these days," Alan says with another chuckle.

"So I've seen." There had been quite a number of unsettling discoveries as she'd attempted to familiarize herself with the current iteration of the internet. "Don't think I'll forget some of the stuff I've seen any time soon."

The conversation is interrupted by another groan from Dean, as he tries to shift. Bleary green eyes blink up at her and Jo, on instinct, runs a hand along his jaw in an attempt to soothe him.

"It's okay," she murmurs, "it's gonna be okay."

Dean tries to say something, then gasps when the car hits a pothole. His eyes close again and he goes limp. Still breathing, though. Still alive.

"You're gonna be okay," Jo repeats.

And hopes she's not lying to a dying man.

On her way to Ohio, Jody breaks at least a dozen traffic laws. She knows there's no way she'll get there in time, but she has to try. Even if it's too late to help Dean, she wants to be there for Sam in the aftermath.

She'll never forget the look that was fixed to Patience's face as she'd retold the events of her vision. She'd obviously been devastated just thinking about it. For her sake too, Jody hopes she can still do something to stop it.

Calling Sam's number again, Jody turns left onto a shortcut. The phone rings and rings and rings, and then goes to voicemail. Like it's done for the past several hours. She still tries, now and then, on the off chance at least one of the brothers picks up.

It'll take her a while longer to reach Canton, even with all the shortcuts she's taking. She's lucky there aren't many people driving on the back roads at stupid o'clock. Small favors at least. Because there's another thing she fears happening if she doesn't get there in time, knowing how wrapped around each other the brothers are. Sam will either do something really dumb to get Dean back which, admittedly, is less likely than the other way around. Or, he'll take off and drop off the face of the Earth, which he's done before.

Jody doesn't know which possible scenario is worse, because she dreads both. They'd been so happy after defeating God. Especially Dean. At peace, finally able to live their lives free of outside forces dictating their every move. It would be so unfair for them to only have been able to savor it for such a short time.

Saying a quick prayer to the new God—Jack, he's still Jack—Jody pushes her foot harder on the gas pedal and drives faster.

Eileen drives like the Devil is chasing her, has been ever since Jody had called. She'd already been halfway packed, and had been preparing for bed. After ending the call, she'd shoved everything else in her bag and taken off.

She's really proud of herself for managing not to crash her car so far. There'd been a few close calls along the way. She's being careful and taking shortcuts only when the traffic is too heavy on the highway. Which it isn't really, at this ungodly hour. Just in some places. She avoids any towns bigger than medium sized. Actually, she tries to avoid going through any towns at all, because she'd surely get pulled over due to her less than legal speed. And she wants to get to Sam as quickly as possible.

A couple of times, Eileen pulls over and calls Sam's phone. She'd stopped calling Dean's when it was obvious that there's something wrong with it. Maybe it's broken. But Sam doesn't answer, so she keeps driving.

She has her phone shoved in her jeans pocket now, set to vibrate. Can't afford to take her eyes off the road to check it as much as she'd want to. And she doesn't want to miss any news if someone calls her.

Eileen had been so happy to realize that, with Chuck gone, her feelings for Sam—complicated as they were—were still the same. Nothing had changed. Which meant that they'd been her own to begin with. Chuck's scheme had only been a small part. So she and Sam sat down for lunch one day, and talked about it.

She'd tentatively asked him if he felt any different after Chuck's defeat. They'd both been surprized that their affection for each other didn't waver once the old God's hold was broken. That's why they'd agreed to try building a closer relationship. She'd never been anyone's girlfriend before, so it was all new and exciting.

And without any more external influence, they could be themselves. They had the freedom, now, to do that, without the fear that the enemy might be spying on them. Not anymore. Dean, too, had been delighted. Eileen liked him too. His sense of humor was different from Sam's, for starters, which made for a hilarious combination when the three of them spent time together.

They were happy, for a short while. Went on a few hunts, both separately and together. It had been good and Eileen felt like part of a family again. Of course, it'd been too good to last.

This is so damn unfair, she thinks, snapping back to the present. That Sam and Dean didn't get to enjoy more than a few months of freedom from Chuck's machinations. It makes her so angry, remembering all the things the old God had put them through. All the ways he'd manipulated them, simply for the sake of his own entertainment. The memory of how Chuck had used her against the brothers fills Eileen with a seething rage, even now. She wants to find the guy and put a bullet through his—now mortal—brain.

As tears start clouding her vision, Eileen drives into the nearest rest stop and parks her car. She has to take several deep breaths to calm down. When she feels that she can, she gets out and walks around the lot a few times. Clears her head.

She doesn't know where she is at the moment. Wherever it is, it's hot and humid, since it's presently the middle of July. It sucks that she isn't closer to Sam's location. She'd be there by now. Not in wherever-the-hell-this-is, in the dead of the night, with no idea if the man she cares about, or his brother, is alright. He's probably not. But, since he's not answering any calls, she doesn't even know if he's still alive. Because Patience's vision had only shown her Dean's fate, not what happens after. It's a very frustrating feeling. The only thing she can do is hope for the best.

So Eileen takes one last fortifying breath and wipes her face. Gets back in the car and drives off. She dreads what she'll find when she gets there. That Sam will be devastated, and that she won't be able to help him. All she can do is try. Hope that her best will be enough.

Eileen floors the gas pedal. The Devil may not be chasing her, but her boyfriend is more than likely in severe distress. She wants to be by his side and nothing short of a natural disaster is going to stop her.

CW/TW: Suicidal thoughts in Sam's perspective, which is the second part, right after the first line break.