This chapter contains direct dialogue from season 2, episode 14; "Born Under a Bad Sign".

"FUCK!", Dean groaned, sitting across from me at the barroom table. He was gripping the edge of the table so hard that his knuckles had turned white.

"Don't be a baby!", I grumbled. I couldn't really fault him for complaining. After all, I was digging around in his shoulder trying to get the bullet out and I wasn't exactly a surgeon. I could feel the little sucker wedged deep in the muscle of his Deltoid, but every time I tried to grab it with the tweezers, it would slide away from me. This bullet was really being a bitch!

"God!"

"Almost. All right, got it. Got it!" I smiled, holding the blood-soaked bullet up to show him before dropping it into a glass of rubbing alcohol. Dean growled and shot me a dirty look as he took several deep pulls from a bottle of whiskey.

"God, you're a butcher!", Dean croaked as the liquor burned it's way down his throat.

"You're welcome", I bit back sarcastically. It kinda hurt that he didn't seem to be grateful for my help. I know that he's upset about Sam being possessed and on the run, but he's being a real dick right now.

"All right, are we done?"

"Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death." Dean took another swig of the whiskey as I laid a gauze patch over the wound and started taping it down. " So, how did you know? That he was possessed?" I kept my eyes on what I was doing so he wouldn't see that I was keeping secrets. Wouldn't see the pain I was holding back.

"Uh... ah... I didn't. I just knew that it couldn't have been him." I was glad he was right. I don't know what I would have done had I found out that it really WAS Sam that had done those things to me. I still don't know what I'm going to do. I just know that I can't tell Dean what NotSam did... or said. I just can't. But at the same time, I needed to know if what he said about my dad was true.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I know demons lie, but... do they ever tell the truth too?" Dean looked up at me with curious eyes and I looked away quickly before he read my thoughts in my eyes.

"Uh... um... yeah. Sometimes, I guess." I looked back up at him and his eye were intense, trying to figure out what I was thinking. "Especially if they know it'll mess with your head." Dean took another long gulp from the bottle and hissed at the burn. "Why do you ask?" I instantly regretted the question.

"Nothing. Doesn't matter." I looked away for a moment and I heard him let out a frustrated sigh. I could tell that he suspected something had happened, so I changed the subject before he could pry it out of me. "So, do you have any idea where he's headed to next?"

"Well, so far he's been going after the nearest hunter. So... closest one I know lives in South Dakota."

"Okay, good", I said, pulling the sleeve of his T-shirt down over the bandage. "I'm done. Let's go." I stood up from the chair and walked around the table.

"Yeah", Dean growled, standing up and following me. "You're not coming."

"The hell I'm not! I'm a part of this now!", I spat at him angrily.

"I can't say it more plain than this! You try to...!" He must have seen something... maybe it was desperation... in my eyes because he paused mid threat. He sighed and looked away in defeat before he nodded his head, not looking me in the eyes.

"Alright, Jo", Dean grumbled in irritation. "But you stay behind me and do what I tell you to. Got it?" I just nodded and he turned quickly toward the door, not looking back to see if I was following. It was just starting to spit rain as we got into Dean's Impala. By the time we hit the freeway, it was pouring buckets. Dean pulled out his cell and dialed. He held the phone to his ear for several long moments before throwing the phone down on the seat. "Dammit!", he spit under his breath.

"What? What is it?" The look on his face frightened me. He was white knuckling the steering wheel as he pressed harder on the accelerator.

"Bobby's not answering." Dean was deathly quiet the whole way to Bobby's scrap yard and I didn't push him to talk. I could tell he wasn't in the mood. Under any other circumstance I wouldn't have minded, but the silence allowed my mind to replay over and over the events of earlier that night. And the longer we drove, the more it felt like all the air was being sucked from the inside of the car. After 2 hours of reliving my own rape, I couldn't take it anymore and I switched on the radio to some loud rock music, trying to distract myself.

"Hey! Driver pick's the...!" Dean's head swiveled to glare at me, ready to berate me for touching his stereo. But, he took one look at the expression on my face and the angry bark died in his throat and the hard stare evaporated from his eyes. He went back to staring out the windshield again instead.

I knew that he knew something else had happened between me and Sam, but he was too afraid to ask. The whole trip, with the music blaring, Dean would glance over at me out of the corner of his eye, like he was waiting for me to spill my guts. When I didn't, he would look away with a heavy sigh. If he wasn't so worried about Bobby, I knew Dean would have pulled over 100 miles ago and made me tell him everything. That's something I could never tell anyone. Ever.

When we pulled up into the driveway of Bobby's house, it was eerily dark. Except for one light on in the room that Bobby used as his office. Dean jumped from the car and sprinted toward the house, drawing his gun out of the back of his pants. I ran after him but stopped when I noticed the phone lines had been cut.

"Dean!", I hissed as quietly as I could. When he turned, I pointed at the cut lines attached to the side of the house. His eyes went wide and he spit a string of curse under his breath as he flew up the stairs to the front door. I pulled the pistol out of the front of my jeans as I followed him to the door. Dean grabbed the knob and slowly turned it. To both our surprise, the door was unlocked and Dean pushed it open gently, holding his gun out in front of him. The house was quiet and dark, like it hadn't been lived in in 100 years. This whole situation sent a cold shiver up my spine. I knew, all to well, what Sam... I mean, I knew what the demon INSIDE Sam was capable of.

Dean crept thru the living room and toward the little office, that was the only source of light in the whole house. He took measured steps, but one of his heavy boots caused a loose floorboard to let out a pitiful groan of protest. He froze for a moment, listening for any movement in the house. When he didn't hear anything, he took another step forward. Before he could even blink, the muzzle of a double barreled shotgun was pressed against his nose. Both of us stopped breathing.

"Dean?", a voice whispered breathlessly.

"H-hey, Bobby", Dean croaked. "You ok?"

"Yeah, I'm good!" He was panting hard and his eyes flicked over his shoulder to see me standing behind him.

"Good. Do... uh... do you think you could lower the gun there, Bobby?" Bobby looked down at the gun in his hands and slowly lowered it to point at the floor. "Thanks, Bobby. I..." Dean was cut off when he was dowsed in the face with holy water. Dean gave Bobby the bitchface.

"Sorry, Dean", Bobby shrugged. "Had to be sure." Dean chuckled and clapped Bobby on the shoulder before pulling him into a fierce hug. "You two, ok?" Bobby looked at Dean, then me, and back at Dean again.

"Yeah... yeah. We're ok", Dean said hastily. When Bobby looked at me again, I could only nod and look away. I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, everything would come pouring out of me at once. Bobby only stared at me suspiciously. But, he didn't have time to voice his suspicions before Dean spoke. "Where is he, Bobby?" Bobby stepped to the side and I could see Sam sitting, tied to a chair, in the middle of Bobby's office. He was sitting under the devil's trap that Bobby had painted on the ceiling. His head was lowered like he was asleep or unconscious. But then he started to laugh and slowly raised his head.

"Hey there, Dean!", Sam called out cheerfully. "Are we here for an intervention?" He tilted his head and smirked at his brother. "Cuz, ya know? I do believe, I've developed an addiction." His eyes darted to me and his smile widened.

"And... mmmm... you brought the drug!"