Author's Note: I'm sorry this chapter is late. I had a stomach bug and a pinched nerve in my shoulder the previous week which pretty much made writing impossible. Hopefully, there will be no occurrence so I can get the remaining chapters out on time. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I have to admit I really enjoyed typing this one. If you have a moment please leave a review. They keep me motivated. Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Supernatural. The characters and script belong entirely to the creators and writers of the show.

Fallon glanced nervously around the diner they were eating at. Around them people were going about their daily business. None seemed to be paying any attention to them, but after what happened during their last case she didn't think they could be too careful. She had been one moment away from blowing out the walls of the police station the boys had been held in when the female cop came around to their side. Unfortunately, the incident drew a lot of attention to them.

Still, it didn't appear anyone at this diner recognized them. Fallon was about to relax when the T.V. on the counter turned on and the news station had a picture of Dean on full display on the screen. Quickly, she snapped her fingers and changed the channel to some lousy soap opera. A few people in the diner looked up confused, including the waitress who'd turned the set on, but none looked their way. She sighed in relief.

Sam was just as tense over the situation as she was. He currently was scowling down at the screen of his laptop.

"So much for our low profile," he grumbled. "You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially on the Fed's database."

Dean grinned. "Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something," he crowed.

"Yeah, cause that's something to be proud of," Fallon remarked sarcastically.

"She's right, Dean. It's not funny," Sam said. "It makes our job harder. We've gotta be more careful now."

"Well, what do they got on you?" Dean asked a little put out.

Sam ducked his head. "I'm sure they haven't posted it yet," he muttered.

"No accessory? Nothing?" Dean questioned smugly.

"Dean," Fallon admonished.

"You're jealous," Dean laughed.

"No, I'm not!" Sam replied indignantly.

"You're both idiots," Fallon cut in. "Can we please just get into the case? What have you got Sam?"

Sam shut down his computer and pulled out a few papers he's printed for research. "Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed."

"I'm sure his life was so tragic," Fallon replied.

"When did he call animal control?" Dean asked.

"Two days earlier," Sam answered.

"Did he actually say Black Dog?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam said. "A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it and no one else saw it. In fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive."

"That might be the crazy story of the year," Fallon commented.

"Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?" Dean asked.

"What is a black dog?" Fallon questioned. "I mean, we're not talking about a black lab I'm assuming."

"No, definitely not," Sam replied chuckling softly. "The lore on it is all pretty vague. There are spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are they're big and nasty."

"So, they're a grim," Fallon said.

"A what?" Dean questioned.

"A grim," Fallon repeated. "You know, like in Harry Potter? Harry mistook his godfather's Animagus form as a grim."

"And you say what comes out of our mouth is crazy," Dean snorted. "What is it with your obsession with this book series."

"It's a good series," Sam came to her defense. "And I'm sure Rowling's use of the grim probably came from lore on actual Black Dogs."

"Yeah, whatever," Dean replied pulling over a picture of a supposed Black Dog. He smirked before looking at Sam. "I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg, look at that one, huh?" Fallon and Sam both gave him a pissy look. His smile slipped. "What? They could."

"Let's just go interview this guy's firm partner," Fallon sighed slipping out of the diner's booth.

"So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" Sam questioned.

"That's right," the man confirmed. "Now, one more time, this is for…?"

"A tribute to Mr. Boyden," Dean jumped in. This time when they'd gone to question the business partner of the deceased they'd pretended to be journalists. "Architectural Digest." Boyden's business partner laughed. "This funny to you?"

"No, it's just a tribute," the man sighed. "See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind… well, he gets another tribute."

"Any idea why he'd do such a thing?" Sam questioned.

"I have no clue," Sean's partner said. "I mean he lived a charmed life."

"How so?" Sam asked.

"He was a flat-out genius," the man replied. "I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I… and it wasn't always that way either."

"No?" Dean questioned.

"You want to know the truth?" the man questioned before continuing. "There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive."

"So, what changed?" Sam asked.

"You got me," the man replied. "But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing, he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart…"

"What?" Dean pushed.

"It's funny," the man huffed. "True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why…why just throw it away?"

"You know, that comment about these talented people dying young and from weird coincidences feels accurate," Fallon commented as they left Sean's old office building.

"I'm sure most of it's a coincidence," Sam told her.

"Probably," Fallon replied. "But maybe it's something to keep in mind."

"Good. You can think about it while I go question a worker at the animal shelter," Dean said.

After their stop at the shelter they began to move through the list of complaints regarding dogs in the area. So far, they weren't having any luck. Fallon groaned as they pulled up to another house.

"If this leads to another dead end can we chalk this case up as a bust and move on?"

Dean was also on his last nerve. "I swear, if this is another freakin' Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard…." He grumbled as Sam knocked on the door. He dropped the rest of his threat when the door opened to a young woman. He schooled a more serious expression before speaking again. "Afternoon, Ma'am. Animal Control."

"Oh, someone already came yesterday," the woman replied.

"We're just following up," Sam said smoothly. "We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman."

The woman stepped aside to let them enter the house. "The doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back," she told them. "She left two days ago."

"Okay," Sam said. "And you are…?"

"I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid," the woman replied.

"This lady had a maid?" Fallon snorted as she began to look around the room.

"Where did the doctor go?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure," the maid answered. "She just packed and went. She didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?"

"Oh, not yet," Sam replied. "You didn't happen to ever see the dog yourself, did you?"

"Well, no, I never even heard it," the maid admitted.

"Dean," Fallon said pointing to a picture that was hanging on the wall. Dean wandered over to her. "The doctor apparently used to hang out at Lloyd's too." He nodded before turning back to the maid.

"Hey, you know, I read she was, uh, chief surgeon at the hospital," he said. "She's gotta be what, forty-two? That's pretty young for that job."

"Youngest in the history of the place," the maid said. "She got the position…. ten years ago?"

"I'm starting to see a pattern here," Fallon said. "I'm not sure if I'm going to like where it's going."

"Well, thank you for talking to us," Sam said. "If the doctor comes back would you ask her to get in contact with us?" He handed her a card.

"Absolutely," the maid replied.

"So, we're checking out this Lloyd's joint, right?" Fallon asked as they got back to the car.

"Bingo," Dean confirmed. "Good find, Fallon."

"Thanks," Fallon replied. "Although I don't know what it means."

"I've got an idea," Dean said. "I'm just hoping I'm wrong."

Dean parked the car near Lloyd's and they started to make their way to the bar.

"What a dump," Fallon said. "This is the type of bar you should avoid at all cost. The police have to be called here all the time."

Sam laughed. "Probably," he agreed. "But I bet the place is cheap."

"Hey," Dean called out from a few paces behind them. Sam and Fallon turned back around.

"Yeah?" Sam asked.

"Think someone planted these?" Dean questioned staring at a large patch of yellow flowers on the ground.

"In the middle of all these weeds?" Fallon questioned. "Why?"

"These are, uh, what do you call them?" Dean asked Sam.

"Yarrow flowers?" Sam replied hesitantly.

"Yeah," Dean replied snapping his fingers in confirmation. "They're used for certain rituals, aren't they?"

"What kind of rituals?" Fallon asked.

"Summoning rituals," Sam told her.

"What would someone want to summon?" Fallon asked.

Dean huffed, sounding angry. "So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's…"

"Where there just happens to be a crossroads," Sam finished. "You don't think?"

"That these people summoned some demon?" Fallon cut in as she caught on to what was happening. "Yeah, I do."

"Let's find out," Dean said. He walked a few paces away and then surveyed his surroundings. "This seem about the dead center to you, Fallon?"

"Yes," she replied coming over to join him. She held her hands palm down above the ground for a minute and then flipped them. The dirt rose up and crumbled before splitting apart to reveal an old, rusted box lying at the bottom of a hole. She raised her hands and the box rose up into the air.

Sam snatched it and opened the box. Inside were a few small bones and a stopper jar. "I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt," he commented holding the jar. "And a black cat bone."

"Ugh!" Fallon shuddered wrinkling her nose. "I hope the poor kitty was already dead."

"That's serious spell work," Dean said. "I mean, that's Deep South Hoodoo stuff."

"Used to summon a demon," Sam stated.

"Not just someone," Dean said. "Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, cause that always ends good."

"So, these dogs, they're actually…"

"Hellhounds," Sam told Fallon. "Demonic pit bulls."

"Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting," Dean said. "And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running she ain't running fast enough."

"So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend," Sam commented. "I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?"

"Yeah, except that wasn't a legend," Dean replied. "I mean, you know his music." Sam stared blankly at him. Fallon and Dean both groaned. "You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues?"

"Hellhound on my Trail?" Fallon provided. Sam shook his head.

"The story goes he died choking on his own blood," Dean sighed. "He was hallucinating and muttering about big, evil dogs."

"And now it's happening all over again," Fallon said.

"We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here," Sam said.

"Great, so we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for them?" Dean grumbled. "I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced them to play Let's Make a Deal!"

"Dean, they're human beings who made a mistake," Fallon said. "They were probably desperate. You want to just leave them to die?"

"Someone goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save them?" Dean replied. She smacked him on the back of the head and gave him a look. "Alright, fine." He plucked a picture of some guy out of the rusted box. "Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So, this guy probably summoned this thing. Let's go see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive." Fallon smiled approvingly.

As it turned out the man was still alive. One of the patrons inside had given them his address and they were climbing up some rickety stairs to his apartment now.

"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked.

"George Darrow," Fallon answered. "A regular at Lloyd's if that guy's explanation was anything to go by."

"This house probably isn't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?" Dean commented.

"I guess the deal he made didn't include money," Fallon replied dryly.

"Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis," Dean suggested excitedly.

"Princess Leia bikinis," Fallon repeated incredulously while Sam just gave his brother a look and sighed.

"I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due," Dean said. "Hope at least he asked for something fun."

"I just hope that's not what you would ask for," Fallon replied as they reached Darrow's door. At the base of the door black dust made a thick line.

"Look at that," Sam hummed.

"What is that pepper?" Dean asked and then the door opened to reveal a middle-aged man glaring down at him.

"Who the hell are you?" the man asked.

"George Darrow?" Dean questioned.

"I'm not buying anything," George replied.

"Looks like you went for the wrong shaker there," Dean commented pointing at the black dust. "Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt."

"I don't know what you're talking about," George replied defensively.

"Talkin' about this," Dean replied holding up the old picture. "Tell me. You seen that Hellhound yet?"

"Look, we want to help," Sam said. "Please. Just five minutes." The man sighed before stepping back to let them in. Fallon stared down at the black dust before carefully stepping over it. Whatever it was didn't work on her. She doubted it would do much against demonic dogs either.

"So, what is that stuff out front?" Sam asked.

"Goofer Dust," George replied.

"That sounds like it came right out of that SpongeBob SquarePants movie," Fallon snorted.

"Laugh all you like but it works," George replied. Fallon jumped slightly realizing he could see her and stared at him. The man snorted. "You three think you know something about something but not Goofer dust?" He tossed a sack of the stuff at Dean who caught it.

"Well, we know a little about a lot of things," Dean commented. "Just enough to make us dangerous."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Hoodoo," George replied. "My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons."

"Demons we know," Dean said.

"Well, then maybe it'll do you some good," George said. "Four minutes left."

"Mr. Darrow, we know you're in trouble," Sam said.

"Yeah, that you got yourself into," Dean pointed out.

"But that doesn't mean you should just give in," Fallon added staring Dean down.

"Fallon's right," Sam said. "It's not hopeless. There's gotta be something we can do."

"Listen," George sighed. "I get that you three want to help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie in it. I'm the one that called that demon in the first place."

"Why?" Fallon asked.

"I was weak," George replied. "I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just… I just never thought about the price."

"Was it worth it?" Dean questioned harshly.

"Hell no," George said. "Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame. I'm still broke and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst."

"What do you mean?" Fallon asked.

"The demon didn't leave," George replied. "I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chatting. Making more deals. I tried to warn folks but who's going to listen to an old drunk?"

"How many others were there?" Sam asked.

"The architect, that doctor lady," George listed. "I kept up with them. They've been in the papers. Least they got famous."

"Was there anyone else?" Fallon asked.

"One more," George said. "Nice guy too. Evan Hudson. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for."

"No, there's got to be a way," Sam replied.

"You don't get it. I don't want a way!" George cried.

"Look, you don't…"

"I called that thing!" the man exclaimed. "I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'til then." He sighed. "Okay, you three, time you went and help somebody that wants help."

"Do you really want to die?" Fallon questioned sadly.

George stared at her. "I'm tired," is all he said.

It didn't take them long to track down Evan Hudson. They parked the car and hurried up his front walk before banging on the door. The door opened to reveal a nervous looking man.

"Yes?" he asked looking between the three of them. Fallon could tell her could see her too.

"You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's?" Dean questioned abruptly. "Would have been about ten years ago." The door immediately slammed in their faces and they could hear the latch click from the other side.

"Smooth," Fallon commented.

"Think we should kick down the door?" Dean suggested.

"No, I do not think that," Fallon replied before phasing through the door and removing the latch for the boys to enter. She turned quickly and went after Evan. She found him in a room in the back of the house.

"Stay away from me demon!" he shouted when he saw her, throwing a paperweight on the desk at her.

"I'm a ghost, not a demon," Fallon replied as the paperweight phased through her. "And I'm here to help you."

"We know about the deal you made," Dean said as he and Sam found them.

"What?" Evan asked. "How?"

"Doesn't matter," Sam replied. "All that matters is, we're trying to stop it."

"How do I know you're not lying?" Evan said suspiciously.

"Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy," Dean snapped.

Evan took that into consideration for a second before nodding. "Can you stop it?" he asked them.

"Don't know," Sam admitted.

"But we'll try," Fallon added.

"I don't want to die," Evan said pathetically.

"Of course you don't," Dean replied bitterly. "Not now."

"Dean, stop," Sam said.

"What'd you ask for anyway, Evan?" Dean continued. "Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?"

"My wife," Evan said.

"Right," Dean laughed humorlessly. "Getting the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for."

"No," Fallon said softly snapping back into the present. "She was dying, wasn't she? You did it to save her."

"She had cancer," Evan told them defeatedly. "They'd stopped treatment, they were moving her to hospice, they kept saying… a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot."

"Did you ever think about her in all this?" Dean asked nastily.

"I did this for her," Evan stated.

"You sure about that?" Dean questioned taking large steps towards him. "I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?"

"Okay, that's enough!" Fallon cried. "Dean, follow me out into the hall." He turned on his heals and stormed out of the room. She followed him. "Hey, are you alright?" She placed a hand on his arm and immediately felt a surge of anger and grief flow through her. She balked stepping away from him. She glanced up at him and noticed he looked calmer now, while she wanted to punch her fist through something. Before Dean could answer, and before she could really freak out, Sam came out into the hall after them.

"You alright?" he asked the question Fallon had just before.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Dean asked the anger back in his face. "Hey, I got an idea." He pulled out the Goofer Dust. "You throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon."

"Summon… are you nuts?" Sam asked.

"You can't do that," Fallon said as the anger she'd just been feeling faded away and she could focus again.

"I can trap it," Dean said. "I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent."

"Yeah, but how much time?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know, a while," Dean replied aggravated. "I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine."

"No. No way," Sam said.

"You're not allowed to say no, Sammy," Dean replied. "Not unless you have a better idea."

"Dean, you can forget it," Sam cried. "I'm not letting you summon that demon."

"Why not?" Dean said.

"Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not," Sam replied.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"Probably something about the fact that you were all in Evan's face a few minutes ago," Fallon said.

"Exactly," Sam said. "And you know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why."

"We don't have time for this," Dean said guardedly.

"Dad," Sam said as Dean pushed past him. "You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell, I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it too."

"It fits, doesn't it?" Dean said quietly. "I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul?"

"Then it would have been worth it," Fallon stated. Before either of the boys could reply they heard Evan scream from the next room.

Dean straightened up. "Just keep him alive, okay?" he asked.

"I'm coming with you," Fallon said taking a step towards him, but Dean held out an arm to stop her.

"I need you here, okay?" he said. "I have more faith in you than that Goofer Dust."

Fallon smiled. "Just don't do anything stupid, capiche?"

"You got it," he told her and then left the house.

"If he does what I think he's going to do, then I'll kill him," Fallon muttered.

Sam laughed. "I'll help," he said. "Now go try to calm him down while I leave a line of this dust."

Dean's P.O.V.

Dean placed his picture in Darrow's old tin box and then placed it in the hole he'd dug up in the middle of the crossroads. He quickly covered it with dirt. When he looked up a beautiful woman with long dark hair stood before him.

"So, what brings a guy like you to a place like this?" she questioned. Her voice sounded like silk. He stared at her as he took in the situation. "You called me?"

"I'm just glad it worked," Dean replied.

"First time?" the demon said.

"You could say that," Dean answered.

"Oh, come on now. Don't sell yourself short," the demon said. "I know all about you, Dean Winchester." Her eyes glowed red.

Dean instantly felt weary. He didn't have the advantage he thought he did. "So, you know who I am," he said hoping she'd give him more information on what she had on him.

"I get the newsletter," is all the demon said.

"Well, don't keep me in suspense," Dean tried again. "What have you heard?"

"Well, I heard you were handsome, but," the demon glanced over him from head to toe, "you're just edible. What can I do for you, Dean?"

"Maybe we should do this in my car," Dean suggested. If she wasn't going to give any more away he would just have to assume he still had the advantage before resorting to plan B. "Nice and private."

"Sounds good to me," the demon replied following him over to the Impala.

"So, I was hoping we could strike a deal," Demon said.

"That's what I do," the demon said.

"I want Evan Hudson released from his contract," Dean stated.

"Hmm," the demon hummed considering. "So sorry, darling. That's not negotiable."

"I'll make it worth your while," Dean told her.

"Oh really?" the demon replied amused. "What are you offering?"

"Me," Dean replied feeling extremely glad Fallon wasn't here to hear him say that. She'd probably kill him.

"Well, well, well," the demon replied amused. "You'd sacrifice your life for someone else. Like father, like son." Dean tried to force himself not to flinch. They were almost at the car. He would have his advantage soon. He hoped. "You did know about your dad's deal, right? His life for yours? Oh, I didn't make the deal myself, but boy I wish I had."

Dean grit his teeth as he opened the passenger's door. "After you."

"Such a gentleman," the demon purred about to step forward until she looked down. Anger filled every feature of her face. "A Devil's Trap? You've got to be kidding me. You stupid, stupid…I should rip you limb from limb."

Dean backed up as she started advancing towards him. He backed up under a wooden structure nearby. "Take your best shot," he pleaded.

The demon stopped and smiled cruelly. "No. I don't think so," she said slowly. "I'm not going to put you out of your misery."

"Yeah? Why not?" Dean asked.

"Because your misery's the whole point," the demon said nastily. "It's too much fun to watch. Knowing how your daddy died for you, how he sold his soul. I mean, that's gotta hurt. It's all you ever think about. You wake up and your first thought is, 'I can't do this anymore'. You're all lit up with pain. I mean, you loved him so much. And it's all your fault. You blew it, Dean. I could have given you what you need."

"What do I need?" Dean asked working hard to keep his tone even.

"Your father. I could have brought him back," the demon said. He forced himself not to react. He wouldn't go for this bait. The demon then smiled even more maliciously. "Or maybe, you'd rather save that ghost of yours. I could make her human again. After all, she really didn't deserve to die." The demon sighed. "Your loss. Seeya, Dean. I wish you a nice, long life."

"Hold on," Dean blurted out without thinking. He couldn't stop picturing Fallon's face.

The demon turned around. "You're lucky I have a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces," she purred. "I just can't leave you like this. Besides, you didn't call me here for Evan. Not really."

"Can you make her human again?" Dean asked. "Fallon?"

The demon's eyes sparkled. "Of course I can," she said. Just as she was. She would live a long and natural life, like she was meant to. That's a promise."

"What about me?" Dean asked.

"I could give you ten years," the demon said. "Ten long years with her. And she would have Sam to comfort her when those ten years run out."

Dean took another step back. "You think you could… throw in a set of steak knives," he replied sarcastically.

The demon took a few steps under so that she stood under the structure with him. "You know, this smart-ass defense mechanism of yours…" she paused and looked up at the Devil's Trap above her head. Dean smirked. Plan B always worked. The demon glared at him. "Dean!"

"Now you're really trapped," Dean told her. "That's gotta hurt."

"Let me out. Now," the demon ordered.

"Sure," Dean agreed smoothly. "We just gotta make a little deal here first. You call off your Hellhounds and let Evan go. Then I'll let you go."

"I can't break a binding contract," the demon replied.

"And by can't you mean don't want to?" Dean replied knowingly. "Last chance. Evan and his wife get to live to a ripe old age. Going, going…."

"Let's talk about this."

"Okay, gone," Dean said. He pulled his father's journal out of his jacket pocket and began reciting one of the exorcisms as he walked in circles around the structure. The demon began to shake uncontrollably and looked more and more in pain as the exorcism continued.

"Wait!" she finally bit out. Dean paused and glanced at her.

Fallon's P.O.V.

Fallon was using everything she had to keep the closet door in place from the Hellhound's assault. She didn't think the door would hold up for much longer as the beast on the other side rammed repeatedly into it. And Fallon wasn't sure what would give first, the door or her power. She was caught in a silent debate over whether she should keep holding the attack off or let the beast through while she still had power to fight it. Just as she was about to pull her powers back from the door the attack stopped.

She looked over her shoulder at Sam who only shrugged warily. The three of them waited for the attack to resume, but when fifteen minutes passed and nothing happened Fallon told Sam to call Dean who confirmed Evan was released from his contract. Still feeling rather cautious, Fallon slipped through the door and checked the house and grounds outside for the Hellhound, but it was gone. She gave Sam and Evan the clear to leave the closet.

Sam poured the man a shot of whiskey while Fallon cleaned up the Goofer Dust. They had him mostly calmed down by the time Dean showed up to pick her and Sam up. They left with a firm assurance the Hellhound would not be back and hit the road.

Fallon couldn't stop thinking about her new power though. She had just noticed it today, but she was certain it had been going on for a while. Although she hadn't said anything to the boys she had been feeling quite on edge since the incident with the Yellow-eyed demon. She had thought it was just due to the demon stirring up that repressed memory, and although she was sure that was a part of it, she now thought she may also have been absorbing Sam's and Dean's emotions too.

Neither boy would like it, especially Dean. But so far, they hadn't realized it was happening, and she didn't intend to tell them. She didn't like to be deceitful, but it wasn't worth the fallout that would happen if they found out. Fallon had learned to control all other new powers that had surfaced before, she could do it again. She determined it was for everyone's best interest. She would stop drowning in their emotions, which would make it easier to deal with her own, and the two would be blissfully unaware their own emotions had been tampered with. She relaxed with the decision made.

With her attention now in the present she realized they were pulling into a motel's parking lot. Sam grumbled something about him getting the room and Dean handling the luggage before walking towards the building. Fallon slipped out of the car and popped the trunk and started to reach for a bag before Dean stopped her.

"I have to tell you something," he said, and she tensed, worried he'd realized what happened earlier.

"What is it?" she asked, trying to keep the nerves out of her voice.

"The demon, she offered to make a deal to bring you back," Dean told her.

"It could do that?" Fallon questioned.

"Yeah," Dean answered looking down at the ground before looking back up at her, a pleading expression on his face. "I wanted to make that deal for you, Fallon. You deserve to be human again. You deserve to live. More than Evan Hudson does. Hell, more than anybody deserves it. I just couldn't do it. I'm sor…"

Fallon hugged him tightly before he could finish his sentence. She looked up at him, her chin resting on his chest since she didn't let go of the hug. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Dean," she told him before finally taking a step back. "My life is not worth yours."

Dean chuckled darkly. "I think that's a matter of opinion."

"Dean," Fallon said placing both hands on either side of his face, "it's a fact. Thank you for not taking that deal." Dean swallowed thickly before something in his face cracked. Fallon wrapped her arms around him as he buried his face in her shoulder. She thought about her promise about her new power and carefully concentrated on taking this pain away from Dean. After all, she figured, he didn't have to carry everything on his shoulders.