(A/N Two chapters in the span of an hour! Surprise. This is our favorite chapter so far, but there is so much we have planned. Have a happy Summer!)

Sophia pulled off the road nearest a tall cedar tree by some quaint church, barely noticing the should be shade with how cloud covered and rainy it was, the cool barely phasing her. She had spent the second half of her life in South Dakota, after all. Cold weather hardly phased her anymore. Though when she was younger, she could hardly stand it. Snow had been her least favorite form of precipitation up until the day Bobby had showed her how to make a snowman.

Watching carefully, Sophia took in the quaint way the town fit together. The perfect paint jobs on the perfect houses. There were no cars parked outside the houses, and few filling the car ports. It was almost like no one came or went. There was a store and a diner, connected to the gas station all lined up with pristine white exteriors and swept concrete.

Sophia switched off pandora and flicked on the radio, slowly sweeping through radio stations in curiosity. She was even more confused when only static roared to life over her speakers. And when she finally did find a station, it played the equivalent of elevator music. That was comforting. What sort of town didn't have music? Or a radio station? Or something? The wordless and very much not classical music was grating and she turned off the radio quickly, leaning back in her seat. With a gusty sigh, Sophia whispered, "Well, that's just weird."

It was then that she saw the tommy gun resting on the baseboard of the truck. "And that's safe." She rolled her eyes before pulling a jacket from her duffle and wrapping it so that no one would see it, though she wondered if the people in this town could even care. She hopped from the truck and moved to the back to flip up the tri fold truck bed cover, laying the gun inside before pulling herself up and over the tailgate, her right foot pushing against the hitch, and bouncing to a standing position in the red interior of her truck. It was beat up, scratched, and dusty, but the cover kept most of the weather from ruining the three tool chests spaced out in the long bed. She pushed back the trifold a second time, sitting on the lattice, metal top of the first tool chest and opening the middle one.

She fiddled with the lock for a moment, having lost the key years ago and relying heavily on her ability to pick it. If all else failed, the other tool chest, the one she had a key for, had bolt cutters in it. It creaked open without a hitch and she placed her new gun alongside her favorites. There was a sawed off, pump action shotgun… that was slightly illegal, but only used on ghost hunts, so she didn't think it should really condemn her as a criminal, a bolt action, long range rifle she had jokingly named "Stringbean" when she was younger - much younger. Stringbean had been her first gun, by way of Bobby Singer at the age of 13 - and three or four handguns. Under it all, however, was her brother's gun. A buck mark.

Tucking the tommy into a slot specially designed to hold nearly any sized gun, Sophia grinned softly. There would be a time when she would take that baby for a spin. But right now, she'd settle for it being tucked away in the bed of her truck.

Sophia pulled a remington from the case and tucked it into the holster beneath her oversized jacket, shutting and locking the gun box and closing the fold down bed cover with a grunt of effort. It weighed enough to not get knocked around by the wind and was pliable enough not to warp with speed her truck contained under its unassuming exterior.

Now that her legal - because of the permits she had - gun that would have others asking questions was hidden, Sophia resumed watching the run of the town that seemed too perfect. Sophia was internally cringing at the thought of her gun laying haphazardly in the floorboards had… it was too good of a gun to lay on the floor. It had been a gift from Jarry.

That same black impala from the road eased by, and Sophia grinned. She recognized him! And he was flipping her off! Again. That was Dean. And he looked straight ahead, not turning his head in the slightest, and threw up his right hand over the passenger seat, middle finger shining.

Laughing, Sophia climbed from her truck, not stepping down and out of the cab, but rather hanging from the top and watching the back of his head as he pulled off the road and parked by the cafe. He didn't even glance back to her truck, too wound up in his thoughts. It was funny, in a way, that he hadn't recognized her. At least… she didn't think he did.

Huffing at the wet ground because she wasn't truly done observing the town, Sophia hopped down from her perch and walked towards his car which, as she approached, she realized was not really parked in an out of the way place. It was so big it simply took up the whole lane. He hopped out of his car before she got close enough to confront him, cutting the engine and slamming the creaking door shut.

People were moving through the rain, but it was still oddly quiet. As though people were afraid to disturb the calm. Umbrellas were up and shielding people from the rain.

It was drizzling, and cool, but Sophia wasn't fazed, taking in his long strides and the way his collar was pushed up. Not in a way to keep water from his neck, but pressed awkwardly upwards with a slight crease at the middle. From the back it looked ridiculous, but she figured it was one of those fashion faux pas that she would never understand.

In tall leather boots with her jeans half tucked in to keep from getting wet, Sophia walked carelessly towards his car, through the water and mud. She didn't really care. The day she started to care about how dry her boots were was the day they drug her off to be buried. Because, honestly, who wants to be buried six feet under in dirty boots?

It was then that Sophia had a true internal debate. Dean, when they had last met, had been rather fond of his car. Scary fond. The question was, is Dean the sort who would murder someone who dropped a fry in the cab of his car or drug muddy feet on the floor mats? Or is he the sort to only murder when it came to the big things. Like the paint job and overall functionality of his Impala.

She pondered that for a moment, then muttered, "Skrew it." She pulled the passenger door open quietly, watching to see if Dean recognized the sound. Crawling across the seat, keeping her feet carefully suspended over the floor mats, Sophia cranked down the windows just enough to hear the soon to become conversation.

Dean's sauntering footsteps slowed and Sophia felt as though she had won a jackpot. Dean was stooping over slightly, peering down at an uncomfortable looking man who had been minding his business just a few moments ago. Dean's tone was near patronizing as he said, "Let me guess. Scotty?"

The man didn't seem amused by his quick wit as he - Scotty - glanced up at the sign hanging in front of his cafe, hands clasped lazily in front of him. "Yep."

He offered no more, but Dean didn't need prompting as he hopped right into an introduction. "Hi. My name is John Bonham."

Sophia groaned, rolling her eyes, and muttering under her breath, "Really, Dean. What did you do? Take the first name off of the last album you saw?" She said in half annoyance and half humor. Sophia fiddled with the music player, curious if he was in fact…

"Isn't that the drummer for Led Zeppelin?" Sophia laughed, glancing back at the man and just wishing she could see the look on Dean's face.

The surprise in Dean's voice had her grinning again. "Wow. Good. Classic-Rock fan."

At this point, Sophia was practically rolling with amusement, shaking her head. Hasselhoff sure knew how to get into trouble.

Scotty didn't seem near as amused as Sophia was, but his words were garbled as a woman carrying groceries passed, the crunching of the paper bag distracting her. She watched her carefully, then glanced back towards the convenience store the woman had just left. It was across the way. A girl, maybe sixteen, stood in the window, looking bored.

The kid was the only thing that looked out of place in the entire town. She seemed too real. The others looked as though everything they went through from day to day was rehearsed. As if they were all playing house and being perfectly perfect. No town could go a day without some sort of real conversation. And as much as Burkittsville reminded her of home in everything except the way the people acted, it simply didn't sit right with her. Twin Brooks was a close to perfect as you could get without getting weird. Burkittsville was just creepy.

Curiosity welled inside of Sophia as she glanced around Dean's car, wantering if poking the bear was worth an adrenaline rush, when the bear was a man with hyper reflexes, a weapon's arsenal, and a possible vendetta against the girl who had almost gotten his brother killed.

The thought of the circumstances surrounding her and Dean's last encounter made Sophia cringe, her overpowering good mood fading drastically. Sophia then began to nose her way through the car, looking for anything interesting enough to hold her attention as Dean was busy probably finding out less than she had discovered by just watching the town and doing the research. Dean had a cooler of beer, and a bag of half eaten cheetos sitting in the front. There was an assortment of easy to reach weapons in the back seat and, despite all the junk, there was very little dust and dirt on the dash and the steering wheel was well worn and loved.

Snacking on some cheetos and glancing at the beer longingly, Sophia pilfered through his stuff, opening the glovebox and messing with the music within, curious and not exactly disappointed. Sophia loved most music. As long as she could understand it and it didn't leave her blushing from the implications, she tended to enjoy it. After organizing the music based on genre just from curiosity, Sophia began her search for a music port, curious as to if she could listen to some of her own favorites over the stereo.

When she didn't find one, Sophia turned the power to the radio and ejected the CD with a curious eye. It was Led Zepplin. Of course. "Stairway to Heaven" was on the list of songs, so she shrugged and pressed it back into the player, switching through them.

She had been midway through searching when she heard angry footsteps near the car. With wide eyes, Sophia hopped to the driver's seat just as a man threw open the passenger door looking p*ssed.

"Son of a b*tch! Who the h*ll are you?" Dean's voice crackled into the car and Sophia squeaked, though she would deny that to anyone who asked, in a startled way, dropping the cheeto she had been holding. "What the h*ll are you doing in my car?!"

Feeling slightly miffed and overly agitated, Sophia rolled her eyes. "Good to see you too, Dean. Yeah, I'm doing well! Completely healed from the demon attack, by the way. Thanks for asking. How are you?" Her sarcasm could have melted plastic.

That caught his attention and Dean went from reaching for a gun to looking her dead in the eye. His green eyes widened, and Sophia smirked. "Sophia?!"

"Naw… it's the boogeyman." Feeling overly chipper, now that he finally acknowledged her, Sophia grinned, "Hiya, Deano!"

A little grin pulled at his lips, though he looked mostly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Rolling her eyes, she gestured to the truck parked down the road under the large cedar tree. "I was here first."

That look on his face was priceless. "You're the son of a b*tch that passed me back on the road? What the heck, Sophia? Don't you think that was a little… I don't know… reckless?"

"Pft!" Sophia was laughing again, "I've been driving since I was 11 years old. Had a car before I owned a gun. Of course it was me! And more like daughter of a b*tch, though if you talk about my momma like that again I may have to slap you."

Dean was smiling now, shaking his head. "What do you have under the hood of that thing?"

Sophia shrugged, placing the CD's back into the glovebox where she found them. "Some illegal sh*t."

It was then that Dean caught sight of the mess of music spilled over the seat of the car. "You touched my stuff!" It was more like a whine than an accusation.

"You were gone. I was bored." Sophia leaned down to pick up the cheeto she dropped, tossing it out the open door Dean stood in. "You touch your stuff," she wiggled her eyebrows, "when you're bored." Sophia smirked up at him, as she leaned back to rest against the driver's door, watching as he quirked an eyebrow, before snickering. "But I was intrigued by your music selection. Tells a lot about you."

"Like what?"

"It tells me…" She paused for dramatic affect. "That you are an overgrown angsty teenager."

"I'm not a teenager!" If he wasn't so amused, he might have looked offended. "What do you listen too." He seemed bored with stooping in the rain, and pulled himself into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed.

"Grown, sophisticated, adult music." Sophia was outright grinning at this point. "So, where's the next stop. The creepy Orchard we passed on the way in?" She started the engine, gesturing for him to buckle up.

Dean almost did, much to Sophia's amusement, before he did a double take, his eyes narrowing. "This is my car. Why are you driving?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Sophia shot back, "You're an angsty teenager, remember? I'm the adult. Seniority!"

He grumbled, "teenager my *ss." Shoving open the door and growling, "Scoot over."

She did so with a little reluctance to let loose of the worn leather of the steering wheel, brushing her thumbs over the chevy crest, cooing, "Maybe one day, ya gorgeous piece of machinery."

Dean, again with that eyebrow, grumbled, "Back off, she's mine."

Sophia flashed a glance to him, purring, "Good thing I'm not a lesbian. Or I'd be all up in her grill."

Dean rolled his eyes at the pun, chuckling, "We're gonna get along just fine."

Pushing herself across the way, Sophia made way for Dean and his big shoulders, wiggling in her seat, ready for adventure and feeling a bit too much like a child. When the Impala roared to life, she relaxed back into the smooth leather upholstery.

They drove in silence for a few moments before Dean reached over, turning down the calling songs of Led Zeppelin's lead singer, and glancing towards Sophia with a caution in his eye that she had never seen before. "So, uh, you okay?"

Sophia gazed on, confused for a moment. "Okay? Uh… yeah? I mean, maybe not mentally or emotionally, but what hunter is?"

Dean nodded. "So no lasting effects from the attack, then?"

Realization flashed across her tan face, and her hazel eyes widened. "Oh. That. Yeah, had a pretty nasty concussion. Bobby, well, I don't know how he kept sane with my nagging." There was a long, awkward pause before she huffed out the question that had been building in the back of her mind since the attack. "Is your brother alright?"

At that, Dean let a long suffering sigh. "Yeah. He's alright. Physically, at least. But… well… he's not telling me everything. His girlfriend didn't make it…"

Sophia let a small gasp before she could stop herself, her eyes screwed shut. "Dad-freaking-gummit. I had to go and open my smart *ss mouth." Dean grimaced as her words spilled out. "I'm so sorry, Dean. Your little brother…"

Dean raised a hand to calm her, "Hey. Hey. It's al…"

She growled at him, "Don't ya say i's a'ight, d*mn it! It's not alright! A girl's dead 'cause o' me!" She had a snarl on her lips. "Angie, now that girl… and Jared, and Carolyne and Matt. 'F' alright. Why'd I go n' say that! Of all things, I had to tell that demon b*st*rd. Why didn't I make some random sh*t up."

Dean interrupted carefully, "How long were you down for?"

Pausing in her rant, Sophia shrugged, glancing over to those green eyes that had flashed in her direction. "This is my first hunt since the attack. And I'm rather sure Bobby knew I'd have some backup."

Dean turned to her so fast, Sophia wondered if he hurt his neck with the motion. "That's been over a month! How bad off were you?"

Warily, Sophia glanced to the road, "Um… well, he got me three times over the head. Bobby says I had a fork in my leg and glass in my back. Took a while… The concussion was probably the worst. That, and I reopened the stuff on my back falling down the stairs…."

Lifting a hand from the steering wheel, Dean rubbed the back of his neck, his eyebrows drawn. "Did you say fork?"

At that, Sophia snorted, leaning back again. "Yep."

"Was that when… you told?" Dean wasn't looking at her, now. Rather, he was paying close attention to the road.

Shaking her head, Sophia rolled her eyes. "No. That b*st*rd threatened to cut lil' Angie's throat… That's when I told…. That girl did nothin' wrong. He killed her. I killed Jared… Shot him with an etched bullet. Exorcised that demon out o' him and… well, I got good aim…."

Dean just shook his head, sighing.

Sophia let a sad grin pull over her lips. "I'm pretty sure 'lose everyone you're attached to' was not included in my Hunter's Ed Class."

"It's in the fine print." Dean was grinning back at her, softly.

Chuckling half-heartedly, Sophia searched her mind for some sort of response when the EMF reader began to whine that high pitch, agitating noise. Sophia grinned over at him, "What'd I tell ya? It's always the corn fields in these places."

Dean laughed. "Orchard. But yeah. It's creepy."

Mischievous, Sophia pushed open the door, calling back, "I'm just glad it's daylight, these things like to do all their hunting at night." She tossed a grin over her shoulder and back to the tall, green eyed man. "Kinda like you, Hasselhoff. Praying on all those helpless, innocent women."

"Ha!" Dean was grinning back. "Innocent and helpless innit my M.O."

Snorting, Sophia shoved off the car, walking towards the orchard. Dean called from behind her, catching up with his longer stride. "Daylight or not, this place gives me the creeps…"

Sophia nodded, "Yeah. And…" She did a double take when she saw the black, wretched figure hanging from a post. "The h*ll is that?!"

Dean glanced to her, eyebrow quirked in amusement. "You never seen a scarecrow before?"

Rolling her eyes, Sophia snarked back, "Ya idjit."

Laughing, Dean sauntered forward. "You do know Bobby." He then paused, wrinkling his nose in disgust, speaking to the scarecrow. "Dude. You fugly."

Sophia grimaced. "That's more than just 'fugly,' Dean. That thing is disgusting with a side of death."

Something seemed to catch Dean's eye, as he lifted a ladder that rested near a large apple tree and placed it near the bottom of the scarecrow. His face twisted slightly with disgust as he gazed at the thing's right arm. "Nice tat."

"Why don't you share with the class, Sherlock?" Sophia pressed herself closer to the ladder, reaching for the paper he held.

Blinking, as if waking up from some distant thoughts, Dean glanced down, chuckling softly. "Yeah. Sorry. It's just that it's a part of this missing - I'ma go with dead - guy."

Sophia nodded, the knowledge clicking into place with the lore she had read up on while she had been at Bobby's. "Yeah, that doesn't surprise me. This thing is a Vanir. An animated effigie that brings prosperity and fertility at a price. Still, as you say, Fugly."

"Heck yeah, you know what it is?" Dean seemed all too happy to get out of research. "How do we kill it? I'd like to get it done ASAP."

Sophia laughed, rolling her eyes, rocking the ladder carefully, "Get down, 'fore ya break yer neck. And, no. Bobby says there are too many variations. Local legends are best."

Groaning, Dean clomped down the ladder. "Great."

"I told you." Sophia's voice chimed in brightly as they walked back to the Impala.

Confused, Dean shot the strawberry blonde woman a look.

She gave him her signature sh*t-eating grin. "Not the college type."

"A'ight, smart*ss. If I'm not the college type, what type does that make you?" He was quirking that smoldering eyebrow.

She smoothed out her shirt, before resting her hands on her honey-thick hips, biting her lip and glancing up at him through her long, natural eyelashes, with doe-like eyes. Her southern accent washed over her words like the sound of wind chimes in an early morning breeze. "A woman. Ain't nothin' betta."

"Oh, really?" He looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her tail end a little too long.

She sashayed back to the car, her grin turning mischievous, "Don't ya go thinkin' yer in my league, hon. I'm on a whole 'nother level."

He laughed. "Guess I'll have to level up."

"This ain't no video game. It's more like food. Can't live without it. You can go out and get those cheap single-wrapped gas station pastries. Or spend hours, days, making that home baked pie and eating the whole thing, never havin' ta share." Southern accent still playing with her words, Dean's eyes never leaving her form as she folded herself down into his car. She called out as he walked around it, "An' I don' know about you. But I'm not one for sharin'."

Slightly flushed, Dean settled himself into his car, pressing the key into the ignition as if contemplating something.

Sophia, throwing her head back with laughter, dropped the exaggeration of her accent. "Whatcha thinkin' about over there?"

He grumbled, "Shuddup." He threw the car into drive, peeling out with a large U-turn.

After an awkward silence on Dean's end, as Sophia continued chuckling, she leaned over to the back seat, offering Dean an escape from his, most likely dirty, thoughts. "Got anything to drink back here that ain't alcohol?"

Dean glanced over at her, openly ogling the small strip of pale skin that showed over the top of her dark jeans. When he didn't give an answer, Sophia shot a look over her shoulder, before her hazel eyes widened in fear. "Dumb*ss! Look at the road!"

Dean flicked his gaze back to the road, seeing his baby on the wrong side. He corrected, the tires screeching slightly at the abruptness as he growled out, "Sh*t."

"At least let me live to be killed by the scarecrow. Dadgummit, Dean! I don't want my obituary to say, 'Killed by the dumb*ss."' She grumbled, pulling her shirt down before completely climbing in the back seat, her voice never pausing, "Son of a… oo! Gatorade?" She crouched down, to where Dean couldn't see her in the rearview mirror. "It's fruit punch. Red stains, right Hasselhoff? Payback!"

Dean slammed the breaks, "Oh, h*ll no, woman! Don't you dare!"

Mid drink, Sophia snorted, gatorade spilling over her lips as she guwaffed, choking on laughter and gatorade as Dean snarled, snatching up an old, black t-shirt and wiping up the mess as she composed herself.

Tears were streaming down her face as she clutched her stomach, laughing at him as he clucked over the mess like a mother hen. "I'm sorry! I wasn't gonna! Swear! Ya made me laugh!" She laughed. "It buurns!"

He growled back, "Good!" he smoothed his hands over the leather interior as Sophia laughed openly. "It's alright baby."

They got in the car and, this time, Sophia stayed in the back despite Dean's objections. Sophia leaned around him, holding up a pair of pink, lacy underwear with two fingers, her face twisted with disgust and humor. "Ah, now see. This explains a lot."

Dean grinned, like a peacock with his tail feathers outstretched.

Sophia nodded, "Crossdresser." Dean choked on an inhale, eyes wide. "Not that I'm judging, I figured they'd be rhinestoned…"

Dean deadpanned. "Those are my brothers."

Sophia, who had been waving the pink things suggestively, completely stopped everything, "You're joking….right?"

Silence reigned for a few moments, and Sophia's face began to twist in confusion and slight disgust, and she tossed the frilly things onto the floor, before Dean's uncontrollable laughter broke the silence.

"Teach you to go through a mans things."

Sophia flicked the lid of her empty gatorade bottle at him, grinning. "So. Gatorade? I saw you more of the 'beans, bacon, whiskey, and lard' sort of guy."

Rolling his eyes, Dean sighed, fiddling with the radio. "That is Sammy's."

Sophia pulled herself back into the Impala, with a slightly apologetic smile. "Your brother? Where's he at?"

Dean grumbled under his breath, pressing the gas as the town approached. "He didn't want to follow orders. Dad sent us on this chase, and Sam was more worried about finding him than he was saving lives."

Sophia turned, giving Dean her undivided attention. "The heck? You aren't soldiers, Deano. Whatcha mean by 'orders'? Who's yer dad, Colonel Sanders?"

Dean gave a half hearted smirk. "Nah. Just Dad being Dad. Been like this since we lost Mom."

Sophia nodded, answering, "Guess I'm lucky that I got out of that parent trap early."