Another week, another hunt, another state, another motel room. This one distinguishable from all the others only by the noise of traffic outside the window. I stood looking out of that window, watching the traffic drift slowly passed. We didn't work many jobs in cities. Mostly because Dean hated driving in traffic. Not that I blame him, Baby wasn't built for traffic and confining cities, she was built for the open road, to roar as she sped over the black-top. I sighed and dropped the curtain back into place.

Sam and Dean had left about quarter of an hour ago to investigate the scene of a recent death. A woman, Meredith Redgrave, had been found dead in her apartment. No signs of forced entry, door still closed, alarm still on. The newspaper reports described the attack as brutally violent, but didn't give much detail beyond that. If it were a one off, we might have skipped over it, but this was the second such murder in Chicago over the last two months.

Other than the nature of the deaths, violent attacks inside locked homes, there didn't seem to be anything connecting the two victims. My phone rang and I answered, I'd been waiting for the call.

"Hey, so Landlady says she found Meredith a few days after she died, says she was in pieces all over the apartment, like a wild animal tore her apart. Windows and door locked, chain still on the door, alarm still on. She kept giving us flack about that one, I still say the stupid costumes were overkill." Dean wasn't fond of the boiler suit with name tag deals that Sam had insisted were required. We'd never used them before, but equally, we hadn't always been granted entry, and then they know your face if you try to break in later.

"No signs of a struggle and police found no weapons, no prints, nothing." Sam chips in, his voice a little muffled over the phone which was clearly on loudspeaker. "I'm tellin' ya, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kind of gig."

The EMF Meter squealed, "I think I agree with you."

"So, you talked to the cops?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah." Dean replied, "I spoke to Amy, a, uh, charming, perky officer of the law."

"Yeah? What'd you find out?"

"Well, she's a Sagittarius. She loves tequila, I mean—wow. Oh, and she's got this little tattoo—"

"Dean!" Sam shouted, and I just rolled my eyes.

"What? Yeah. Uh, nothin' we don't already know. Except for one thing they're keeping out of the papers."

"Yes?"

"Meredith's heart was missing."

Heart? Well, the number of creatures that are interested in hearts is, frankly, disturbingly high. Werewolves are probably best well known, and I reached for a lunar calendar. I already knew it hadn't been a full moon, but it's like when you know it's Monday, but still have to check. Other creatures include Skinwakers, which are similar to werewolves, but have control both over when they shift and their behaviour once shifted, Lamia, Qareen, there's plenty of things out there, and I really ought to start a filing system on symptoms left on victims and other identifying features.

"So, what do you think did it to her?" Sam broke into my thoughts.

"Well, the landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was—werewolf?"

"No, not werewolf, the lunar cycle's not right."

"Plus," Sam added, "if it was a creature, it would've left some kind of trace. It's probably a spirit."

There was a short pause and then; "See if you can find any masking tape around."

...What? "Ugh, Dean? You wanna give me an audio of whatever you've found?"

"In a minute, just gotta connect the dots first, Ali."

There was rustling on the end of the phone, I let it continue for a while before getting bored of flicking through Dad's journal for creatures/spirits that take hearts. "Sam? What's going on?"

"Dean's taping between dot's of blood on the carpet."

So, when Dean said he had to connect… "Dean, that joke was awful!"

Dean chuckled and then the rustling seemed to stop.

"Ever see that symbol before?"

"Never."

"Me neither."

"And I still haven't. Audio only here, people!"

"We'll tell you when we get back."


Sam and I were meeting Dean at the bar where Meredith had worked. Sam and Dean had returned to the motel room with a photo of a vaguely familiar symbol and Sam and I had been scouring our small library and the Internet ever since trying to place it. We'd found nothing. So hopefully Dean will have something after speaking to Meredith's colleagues.

"I talked to the bartender." Dean announced as he joined us at a small table.

"Did you get anything? Besides her number?"

"Dude, I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that." Sam and I simply looked at him, he lasted about two seconds before chuckling and holding up the napkin, "All right, yeah."

"You mind doin' a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Look, there's nothing to find out. I mean, Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here was her friend. Everybody said she was normal. She didn't do or say anything weird before she died, so—what about that symbol, you find anything?"

"Nope, nothing." Sam dropped Dad's journal to the table between us. "It wasn't in Dad's journal or in any of the usual books. We just have to dig a little deeper, I guess."

"Well, there was a first victim, right? Before Meredith?"

"Right. Yeah." Sam pulled the newspaper clipping from the journal and handed it to Dean. "His name was, uh—"

"His name was Ben Swardstrom." I provided. "Last month he was found mutilated in his town house. Same deal—the door was locked, the alarm was on."

"Is there any connection between the two of them?"

"Not that I can tell—I mean, not yet, at least. Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common—they were practically from different worlds."

"So, to recap, the only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartender's phone number." Dean smirked at us and waved the napkin.

"Which bartender?" Dean turned and pointed over his shoulder at a pretty brunette. "Her?" He grinned, clearly proud of himself. "The one with the itch downstairs?" His smile dropped.

"Seriously?" He threw the napkin to the table, frowning at it as if it had personally offended him.

Sam got up, focused on something on the other side of the room.

"Sammy?" We were ignored and exchanged a glance before getting up to follow Sam across the crowded bar.

He approached a girl with short blonde hair sitting at a table by herself and tapped her on the shoulder. "Meg?"

"Sam! Is that you? Oh, my God!" She stood and hugged him. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm just in town, visiting friends."

Meg looked around as if expecting to be able to recognise these mysterious friends. "Where are they?"

"Well, they're not here right now, but what about you, Meg? I thought you were going to California." Dean and I caught up with them at this point.

There was something… off about this girl. I tuned out their words, while I hovered a little behind Dean and peered at her.

I couldn't see anything wrong. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was that was bothering me, I just knew something was wrong.

Dean cleared his throat and I tuned back in to the conversation in time to hear the girl remonstrating him, "Dude, cover your mouth."

Sam introduced us both, seeming slightly embarrassed. As I moved forward to shake her hand, I got a clearer sense of her, and I realised; she was screaming! She was screaming on the inside.

That's why she'd seemed so strange to me: I'd sensed the pain but hadn't recognised it as coming from this woman, who also seemed to be perfectly fine? How was that possible?

I gave a somewhat tight smile and backed away, confused by what I'd sensed.

"Oh, yeah. I've heard of you. Nice—the way you treat your brother like luggage." What?

"Why don't you let him do what he wants to do?" She went on, "Stop dragging him over God's green earth."

Sam intervened and after an awkward pause Dean excused himself to grab a drink and I followed after him.

"Sam, I'm sorry. It's just—the way you told me they treat you...if it were me, I'd kill them." Her voice drifted after us, but was soon lost in the busy bar.

That girl was seriously disturbing. I'd not recognised her as the one who was screaming because I could sense her, and she was perfectly fine, so I'd initially assumed the screaming was coming from someone else. Only when I'd gotten closer had it become obvious that it was actually coming from the same source as the 'perfectly okay' that I could also sense. Maybe she had multiple personalities?

It wasn't until Sam had collected us and we were leaving that bar that Dean let his irritation show. "Who the hell was she?"

"I don't really know. I only met her once. Meeting up with her again? I don't know, man, it's weird."

"And what was she saying? We treat you like luggage? What, were you bitchin' about us to some chick?"

I had a few questions about that myself to be honest.

"Look, I'm sorry, Dean. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in that bus stop in Indiana. But that's not important, just listen—"

"Well, is there any truth to what she's saying? I mean, are we keeping you against your will, Sam?"

"No, of course not. Now, would you listen?"

"What is it, Sam?" I cut in before Dean could continue.

"I think there's something strange going on here."

"Yeah, tell me about it. She wasn't even that into me." Dean muttered behind us.

"You mean aside from the possible multi-personality disorder?"

"No, man, I mean like our kind of strange. Like, maybe even a lead. Wait, multi-personality?"

"Yeah, it was like she was both doing great and screaming in pain. Both from the same source. Kinda freaky."

"Weird." Dean agreed before turning to Sam. "Why do you think she's weird?"

"I met Meg weeks ago, literally on the side of the road. And now, I run into her in some random Chicago bar? I mean, the same bar where a waitress was slaughtered by something supernatural? Don't you think that's a little weird?"

"I don't know, random coincidence. It happens."

"Yeah, it happens, but not to us." I pointed out.

Sam nodded in agreement, "Look, I could be wrong, I'm just saying that there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on."

Dean smirked at him, "Well, I bet you'd like to. I mean, maybe she's not a suspect, maybe you've got a thing for her, huh? Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?" Sam and I simultaneously rolled our eyes at him.

"Do me a favour. Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts," he turned to me, "and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol on Meredith's floor."

"What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna watch Meg."

Dean and I teased Sam a little more before leaving him with the car and heading back to the motel. Dean used Sam's laptop to check out Meg Masters from Massachusetts and I leafed through Dad's journal again. I know I'd seen this symbol before, the knowledge felt like it was right at the edge of my brain. Eventually I gave up and picked up the phone. I got halfway through dialling Bobby's number before I paused. I can't remember for certain, but I don't think I've seen the symbol in any of Bobby's books. I turned to the back of Dad's journal and ran my finger down the list of contacts. I hovered over Pastor Jim for a moment. Had I seen this symbol flicking through the pages of books stored in the basement of his church?

Finally I settled on calling Caleb, not that I had any solid memories that lead me to believe he could help, just a vague feeling that this was the right number to dial. Also, I hadn't spoken to Caleb in a while, and he may have heard from Dad since I spoke to him last.

Caleb hadn't spoken to Dad, but he was able to identify the symbol when I described it, as the sigil for a daeva. Once he said it, of course, I remembered. Daeva, demons of darkness. Savage and mostly uncontrollable. Strong in this realm, but unable to travel here without assistance, they must be summoned by use of this sigil. Not that anyone had been so foolish for thousands of years, which meant that there was very little in the Lore on how to kill them. I thanked Caleb for his help and he promised to call us back if he found anything on how to kill them.

Once I hung up, Dean plucked the phone from my hand and dialled another number, holding the phone to his ear. "Let me guess. You're lurkin' outside that poor girl's apartment, aren't you?"

"No." Dean and I waited silently, trying to stifle our laughter. "Yes."

"You've got a funny way of showin' your affection."

"Did you find anything on her or what?" Sam sounded rather irritated.

"Sorry, man, she checks out. There is a Meg Masters in the Andover phone book. I even pulled up her high school photo. Now, look, why don't you go knock on her door and, uh, invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do, huh?"

I had to cover my laughter with a hand over my mouth, but Sam ignored his comment. "What about the symbol? Any luck?"

"Yeah, that I did have some luck with." He pulled my notes towards himself. "It's, uh—turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like two thousand years before Christ. It's a sigil for a daeva."

"What's a daeva?"

"It translates to "demon of darkness". Zoroastrian demons, and they're savage, animalistic, you know, nasty attitudes—kind of like, uh, demonic pit bulls." He was reading almost word for word from my notes.

"How'd you figure that out?"

"Give me some credit, man. You don't have a corner on paper chasin' around here." I leant back in my chair, arms folded and eyebrow raised.

"Oh, yeah? Name the last book you read."

Dean rolled his eye's a little. "No, Ali called Dad's friend, Caleb. He ID'd the symbol and Ali seemed to pull the rest of that knowledge out of thin air."

Sam snorted with laughter at the end of the phone and I leaned forward again, Dean putting the phone on loudspeaker as I joined their conversation. "Anyway, here's the thing—these daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured."

"So, someone's controlling it?"

"Yeah, and, from what I gather," Dean was still browsing through my notes, "it's pretty risky business, too. These suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them. And, uh, the arms, and torsos."

"So, what do they look like?"

"Well, nobody knows, nobody's seen 'em for a couple of millennia. I mean, summoning a demon that ancient? Someone really knows their stuff. I think we've got a major player in town."

There was a brief silence before Dean changed the subject. "Now, why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?"

"Bite me."

"No, bite her. Don't leave teeth marks, though-" The line went dead. "Sam? Are you-?"

"He's gone, Dean. And I don't blame him."

I left Dean to start tidying the notes away while I put together a light supper. Despite it being quite late, none of us had eaten anything yet.

Dean disappeared for a while, then returned a couple of files in hand, which he dumped on the table just as I was serving up spaghetti and meatballs.

We grabbed a file each and went through, each reading out one thing at a time and the other replying with the same feature from their file. Age, gender, hair colour, address and so on. I was down to my last meatball before we got a match. "Place of birth: Lawrence, Kansas."

"Law...rence, Kansas."

We stared at each other across the table but didn't get a chance to react before the door opened and Sam strode through.

Dean rose to greet him and they spoke at the same time. "Dude, I gotta talk to you."

I pushed Sam into my seat at the table, replacing my mostly finished food with a fresh plate of spaghetti and leant against the counter finishing my meal while Sam mostly ignored his, too agitated to get more that a few mouthfuls in between his explanation.

He'd followed Meg to a condemned warehouse, climbed the elevator shaft and spied on her on the top floor speaking to someone he couldn't hear through a bowl at a dark alter. After she'd left he'd examined the alter and had found the zoroastrian sigil painted in what looked like blood onto a mirror.

"So, hot little Meg is summoning the daeva?" Dean summarised.

Sam nodded shoving another mouthful of spaghetti into his mouth and speaking with his mouth full. "Looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing."

"So, Sammy's got a thing for the bad girl." Dean teased, laughing at Sam as ducked my swipe at his head for his poor table manners. "And what's the deal with that bowl again?"

Sam swallowed before answering this time. "She was talking into it. The way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone."

"With who? With the daeva?"

"Pretty sure communication is beyond their skill set."

Sam paused, spaghetti unravelling from the fork halfway to his mouth, "No, this was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders. Someone who's coming to that warehouse."

Dean frowned for a moment then grabbed the folder that had fallen closed on the table in front of him. "Holy crap. What I was gonna tell you earlier; I pulled a favour with my – friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims; we missed something the first time."

Sam leant forward peering at the folders, "What?"

Dean turned the two folders explaining to Sam what we'd discovered just before he'd arrived.

Lawrence, Kansas. It had to be significant, surely.

I tuned out the boys voices as they discussed the plan, Dean suggesting an interrogation of the girl (his eyes darting towards me) and Sam insisting a stake out was the better choice.

Why Kansas? Was it the place that held some significance? Had Mary been killed because of where she lived?

Or were these murders more... sinister? After all, Max Miller hadn't lived in Kansas, and his mother had been killed the exact same way. Perhaps what Sam had said to Max, about them being chosen was correct. In which case, the link to Lawrence, the reason for choosing victims from Lawrence, may have been to get our attention. But then why Chicago?

We had come in response to the murders, and (assuming that my far flung theory held any truth whatsoever) it's possible that the murders would have continued, always picking people from Lawrence, until they'd gained our attention. But that was a disturbing thought as well; it meant that whatever was behind this had been keeping tabs on us, knew that we were hunters and would respond to something like this. Perhaps if there were any more Chosen they were also being brought to Chicago? Brought by whatever means would prove most effective.

Why Chicago? Perhaps simply convenience? It's relatively centrally placed and if the distribution of Chosen happened to be relatively high in the nearby area it's possible Chicago bears no more significance than simple logistics.

Though I still have no clue as to the motivation for gathering Chosen to one location. The big question remains: Chosen for what?

Of course, all of that relies on my assumptions being correct, if I was wrong about anything, it could drastically change the picture.

I mean, and we really are talking far fetched now; it might be a complete coincidence that the people the deava killed were both from Kansas. Of course, when you add in Meg and her connection to both the deava and Sam, that theory become a little ridiculous.

I was shaken from my reverie by Sam standing and heading out the door. Dean was pulling his phone from his pocket and I started gathering the dirty dishes as Dean left a voice mail for Dad. "We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse—it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can."

Sam returned as I finished washing up and dropped a heavy duffel bag on the bed. "I ransacked that trunk. Holy water, every weapon that I could think of, exorcism rituals from about a half dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything."

They each grabbed a gun, loading rounds into magazines.

"Big night." Dean commented after a moment.

"Yeah. You nervous?"

"No. Why, are you?"

"No. No way."

My brothers are terrible liars.

"God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, all right?"

"Dean's right, Sam. Demons are tricky bastards to kill, exorcism is a more realistic goal."

"I know. I'm just saying, what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school—be a person again."

"You wanna go back to school?" Dean stopped loading rounds, a sting of betrayal souring his 'scent'.

"Yeah, once we're done huntin' the thing." He glanced up at Dean. "Why, is there somethin' wrong with that?"

"No. No, it's, uh, great. Good for you."

"I mean," Sam seemed a little hesitant, "what are you gonna do when it's all over?"

"It's never gonna be over. There's gonna be others. There's always gonna be somethin' to hunt."

"But there's got to be something that you want for yourself—"

"Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam." He turned and walked over to the dresser, which was about as far as the room would let him get.

"Dude, what's your problem?"

"We missed you, Sammy."

Sam stared at me, Dean stood at the dresser with his head bowed and silence reigned for several beats.

"Ali, we are a family. I'd do anything for you guys. But things will never be the way they were before."

"Could be." Dean muttered to the magazine he was still holding.

"I don't want them to be." Sam spoke to his back, "I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way."

Dean turned back and the two shared a look for a few moments. I didn't bother trying to read it, I just reached into the duffel for a rifle of my own and began loading.


Sam showed us the elevator shaft he had climbed and I'd been at a significant disadvantage climbing the damn thing with my shoulder still aching whenever I use my left arm. Plus the foot holds where a long way apart, which wasn't much of a problem for my gigantor brothers, but I'm only 5'3"; those are big steps!

Finally we reached the top floor, where there was a slight gap in the gate, first Sam, and then Dean squeezed through the gap, passing the duffel bag up. They retreated with it out of my sight, silent so as not to disturb Meg, who was chanting in Latin. I was following my brothers, but I stopped when I got to the point where I could see over the edge of the floor.

There were two, huge – shadow beasts! They appeared to be made of clouds of darkness, swirling and constantly moving with darker pits somehow visible in the blackness of their faces indicating where their distorted features lay. They were humanoid, standing at about 7 feet tall, one either side of the blonde girl who had her back to us, facing her alter.

Sam and Dean were proceeding into the room, watching the girl, but completely ignoring the shadow beasts, which must surely have been the daeva! Could they not see them? How they not see them? Scary, seven foot, black masses of seething darkness! Kinda hard to miss!

And yet Sam and Dean didn't even glance at them. They were retreating to the far end of the room, drawing weapons and aiming them at Meg. I was frozen, terrified by the idea that my brothers would be helpless against this threat. They didn't even know they were there!

"Guys." Meg's Latin chant abruptly changed to English as she shifted her posture. "Hiding's a little bit childish, don't you think?"

"Well, that didn't work out like I planned." Dean muttered.

Meg turned to face them, not even glancing at where I was still frozen peering over the edge of the floor in the elevator shaft. "Why don't you come out?" They moved out from behind the crates they'd been using as cover, still with rifles levelled at her. "Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship."

"Yeah, tell me about it." He sassed back at her.

"So, where's your little daeva friend?" Dean asked, proving my theory that he couldn't see the demon which was now standing exactly between me and Meg, nor the one standing directly in front of him.

"Around." She answered, as I started shifting silently towards the gap in the gate. "You know, that shotgun's not gonna do much good."

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The shotgun's not for the demon."

"So, who is it, Meg?" Sam asked, "Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?"

"You." She smiled sweetly and I launched myself from the gap straight at her. The writhing darkness of the daeva had become more agitated, the darkness swirling faster as it moved towards Sam. I partially collided with it as I attacked Meg. I didn't really want them to know that I could see them.

The other threw Dean back into the crates before attacking me. I was still going for Meg, an iron blade pulled from a scabbard at the small of my back. The blade had met resistance in my hand as I'd passed the daeva but I hadn't turned to see. The furious screech telling me enough.

I didn't reach Meg. The daeva were fast. They were both on me before I got to her. A shot rang out. Pain blossomed in my side and my leg. Then something collided with my head and the world went dark.


A mocking, laughing voice, interspersed with the deeper, angrier tones of my brothers were the first things I was aware of.

The pain was the second.

My left side and right leg were throbbing hotly. My head was stinging, both at my forehead where it was in contact with the cold, dirty floor and the spot at the back of my skull were I vaguely remember something hitting me.

I could smell my brothers' pain too, and I tilted my head slightly to be able to see them. Even that small movement caused black spots to appear in my vision. I laid still after that, just focussing on the sounds, trying to make sense of the words.

Dean was speaking "-why don't you kill us already?

"Not very quick on the uptake, are we?" Meg's voice seemed to amplify the pounding in my skull. "This trap isn't for you."

"Dad. It's a trap for Dad." Sam's wasn't nearly so bad for my head, why can't they all speak in Sam's voice?

"Oh, sweetheart—you're dumber than you look." Dean's voice is good too. Dean can use his own voice, it might get confusing if everyone used Sam's voice. "'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good."

"He is pretty good. I'll give you that. But you see, he has one weakness."

Is the floor moving? I kinda feel like it's swinging. "What's that?"

"You. He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he is in town. And he'll come and try to save you. And then the daevas will kill everybody—nice and slow and messy." Pretty sure I'm already messy. I think that warm wet I'm lying in might be blood. Smells like blood. Good job I'd worn my red shirt today.

"Well, I've got news for ya. It's gonna take a lot more than some… shadow to kill him." Should I be paying attention to this? They'd been talking for ages.

"Oh, the daevas are in the room here—they're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see." Shadow is all they are, even for me and I can see them.

"Why you doing this, Meg?" Sam asked as I made more of an effort to clear my hazy thought processes. "What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?"

"I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do; loyalty, love. Like the love you had for Mommy—and Jess." Bitch!

"Go to hell." You tell 'er, Sammy!

"Baby, I'm already there. Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty." Okay I need to take stock of how badly I'm really hurt. "I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me—changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it?" Eww, not helping my concentration.

"Get a room, you two."

Okay, so the cut in my leg wasn't too deep, it would sting like hell and I'd probably need adrenaline to be able to use it, but no serious damage done.

"I didn't mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun." I repeat: Eww. And the kissy noises only further my previous statement.

"You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I'm a little tied up right now." Could be worse, I could be Sam. He definitely drew the short straw here.

The cut to my side was more worrying, just because of the number of organs it may have come close too. I could smell blood, but no other internal parts, which is a good sign, means my digestive system probably hasn't been punctured, and the ease with which I'm breathing gives the same reassurance about my lungs. It's probably just a superficial cut there too. The size of the puddle is a little alarming though. That indicates I've lost a fair bit of blood.

"Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free?"

"No. No. That's because I have a knife of my own." There was a thud and a spark of pain from Sam.

"Sam! Get the altar." I pried my eyes open in time to see Sam over turning the thing, assorted bones and candles scattering across the floor. The daeva started their writhing again and they each grabbed one of Meg's legs, dragging her screaming across the window. They tossed her through the window and her screams cut off a moment later.

Sam peered down after her, "So, I guess the daevas didn't like being bossed around."

Dean was suddenly at my side, rolling me gently onto my back, "Hey, Ali, you still with me?"

"mm 'ere." slurred speech, a sign of a concussion.

Pressure wrapped around my leg, a field bandage being formed from something. Something soft pressed firmly into my side and I gasped as fabric pressed into the cut there.

"Sorry." Sam whispered, lifting me into a sitting position and tying something around my torso to keep what felt like a waded up jacket pressed into my side. Dean's fingers pressed gently into my head, checking how bad it was and causing me to grit my teeth so as not to moan.

"You're okay, nothing fractured." Came the verdict, and with the withdrawal of his fingertips I opened my eyes.

There was a daeva just over his shoulder! I tensed, then winced, closing my eyes again and groaning.

"You're okay, I got you." Dean gently lifted me into a sitting position and then up into his arms. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, not wanting to lift my eyes and find the daeva still following. They'd have attacked by now if they were going to, it was better to watch them and try to work out why they were still here, holding back, rather than give away my trump card that I could see the hideous bastards. Now I just needed to find some way to alert my brothers that we were being watched.


"Why didn't you just leave that stuff in the car?" Dean asked, as he carried me up to the motel room door. I had my arms looped around his neck, eyes downcast watching as two sets of shadow legs followed us along the hall.

"I said it before, and I'll say it again—better safe than sorry." In this case I couldn't agree more! I still hadn't figured out how to alert Sam and Dean, nor how to kill, or even just get rid of these bastards.

Sam unlocked the door and entered ahead of us, before shouting in alarm "Hey!" Dean pushing into the room after him, jostling me into one arm so he could draw a pistol with the other and I hit the light switch as we passed. "Dad?"

"Hey, boys. What the hell happened to her?" Dean placed me carefully on the bed before turning and hugging Dad. Sam fetched the first aid kit and knelt next to me, casting sad glances at Dad and Dean.

"Sammy," I whispered to him, reaching out to the scratch on his face, "We got something stuck to our shoe."

He frowned at me briefly before Dad spoke, "Hi Sam."

"Hey, Dad." He rose to stand and face Dad and Dean took his place, fishing an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit.

He tore it open, dodging my attempts to reach for him, "Dad, it was a trap. I didn't know, I'm sorry."

"It's all right. I thought it might've been."

"Were you there?" He started untying Sam's red hoodie where it was wrapped just below my ribcage and I grabbed at his hands to stop him.

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?" Then he snapped at me, "Ali, hold still and let him fix you up."

"Poughkeepsie!" Dean frowned at me, and switched his attention to the fabric tied tightly around my leg.

"Yes, sir. She was."

"Good. Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before."

"The demon has?"

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell—actually kill it."

Dean paused his attempts to treat me, turning to look at Dad, "How?"

Dad smiled, "I'm workin' on that."

"Dean, Poughkeepsie." Dean turned back to me, focused on my eyes this time, rather than trying to untie bandages that were best left in place until we could get rid of the demons that were just hovering in the doorway, waiting for something.

I tried my best not to glance their way, not to give away that I could see them there. I stared at Dean trying to communicate silently.

Meg had laid a trap, it had been Dad she'd wanted, and here Dad was. The daeva wouldn't wait much longer, I had to warn them now!

"Listen, Sammy, last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight."

"Yes, sir."

"It's good to see you again. It's been a long time."

"We got something stuck to our shoe. Poughkeepsie is a real crazy town."

Dean's eye's went from narrowed in confusion to wide and dived for the bag of weapons that Sam had dropped when he'd entered the room.

Too late! A daeva attacked Dad and Sam, the other catching Dean before he reached the weapons and flung him across the room.

One of the daeva was holding Dad pined against a cabinet, hunkered over him it was scratching at him and its features seemed to distort further in glee as the blood started to trickle down his chest. The other had stepped after Dean, throwing him across the room again before I stepped into its path, raising a little silver blade I'd pulled from a boot. It was fast, but the adrenaline shooting through my veins allowed me to ignore my injuries for now, jabbing my little silver knife into it's arm.

It looked down, and I pulled the knife back, jabbing again and hitting it in the chest this time. It seemed to grin at me before it backhanded me with enough force to lift me off my feet and throw me clear across the room.

"Shut your eyes!" Came Sam's shout. "These things are shadow demons, so let's light 'em up!" A fizzling noise and smell of burning metal indicated a flare had been lit and I squeezed my eyes shut as bright white light lit up the room around us.

I could feel the pain and anger of the daeva as the light seemed to burn them away. Then Sam was grabbing my arm and pulling me to my feet. Helping me to stagger through the increasing smoke to the doorway. A glance behind showed Dean silhouetted, Dad's arm slung over his shoulder.

We staggered down to the car, and Sam slung the weapons duffel he'd grabbed into the back seat. "All right, come on. We don't have much time. As soon as the flare is out, they'll be back."

"Wait, wait, wait! Sam, wait." Dean turned to Dad, a pained look on his face, "Dad, you can't come with us."

"What? What are you talkin' about?" Sam wasn't following Dean's logic, and I was barely following anything, black starting to cloud my vision once more.

"You boys—you're beat to hell." Dad reached out slightly, and I reached back, taking his hand and drawing his pain away, the energy helping to clear my head a little.

"We'll be all right." Dean assured him.

"Dean, we should stick together." Sam protested, "We'll go after those demons—"

"Sam! Listen to me! We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop. They're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He—he's stronger without us around."

"Dad-no." Sam reached out, grasping at Dad's shoulder, "After everything- after all the time we spent looking for you—please. I gotta be a part of this fight."

"Sammy, this fight is just starting. And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you've got to trust me, son." Dad tried to reassure him, "Okay? You've gotta let me go."

There was a moment where I didn't know if someone was gonna start yelling, or if someone was gonna cry, and then Sam let go of Dad's shoulder, patting once before pulling back. Dad nodded once at Sam, then once at Dean, he turned to me and I nodded at him. Yes, of course I would take care of them, I always do.

He pulled away, turning back just before he got into his truck to drive away. "Be careful, boys."

"Come on." Dean lowered himself to the driver's seat and I negotiated my leg, weaker now the adrenaline was fading, into the back seat. Sam and a first aid kit joined me.

Dean sped out of the alley. Only once we were leaving the city did he speak up. "You could see the daeva, couldn't you?"

"Yeah. Ugly, twisting shadows. I think Sam's flare killed them." I spoke through gritted teeth as Sam was pressing against the field bandage on my leg.

"Dean, we need to get to somewhere we can treat her, she's losing more blood."

Darkness was creeping into my vision again, black spots that were growing larger until the world faded away. Painkillers don't work on me, so I usually welcome any opportunity to be unconscious while injured, especially when I know that my brothers are here; they'll keep me safe.