"I mean, you can't just break-in in the middle of the night and expect me to hit the road with you."

"You're not hearin' me, Sammy."

Huh. Skye hadn't thought Dean possessed any patience, but the way he talked to his younger brother proved she might be wrong. Maybe. Was a bit of a struggle to see him with anything approaching a virtue, but maybe if she turned her head and squinted just right… Dammit, stop looking at his ass. It's not like you can even see anything. Has he never heard of jeans that fit?

"Dad's missing and I need you to help me find him."

"Remember the poltergeist in Amherst?"

Poltergeist in Amherst? Do what now? That was more than enough to get Skye's attention and she slowed down a step so she could listen to the conversation without making it obvious that she was shamelessly eavesdropping. Not her fault they talked loud and had forgotten she existed. That was fine, she'd kind of like to forget she existed sometimes, too. Now, what was that about a poltergeist?

"-or the Devil's Gates in Clifton? Dad was missing, then, too. He's always missing and he's always fine."

"Not for this long." Stepping off the end of the staircase, Dean turned to look up at Sam. For the briefest flicker of a heartbeat, Skye almost felt sorry for him. He really was worried and he didn't seem the type to scare easy. With a deep sigh, Dean ran a hand through his dark hair, that fear clear for anyone with eyes to see. Yet another sign he'd forgotten she was there. Yay. "Now, you gonna come with us or not?"

Us. Okay, so maybe he hadn't forgotten. Wasn't the first time she'd been wrong, wouldn't be the last, but still... And it's not like she was a willing participant here. Hell, she was even starting to miss the shitty one-room 'efficiency' apartment she'd lived in the last few weeks and that was just sad.

"I'm not."

"Why not?"

'Petulant twelve-year-old' would be a good description of how Dean was sounding right about now. Like bordering on whiny, as if he hadn't seriously considered the thought that Sam might refuse. Or maybe she was being uncharitable…

"I swore I was done hunting for good."

"Come on." Nope, nevermind, he was definitely whining, with a huff or two thrown in for good measure. She kept her expression blank as Dean's eyes drifted to her for just a moment before he turned away, his words floating back over his shoulder as he lead the way to the exit, "It wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad."

"Yeah? When I told Dad I was scared of the thing in my closet, he gave me a .45."

"Well-" Shoving open the wrought-iron door that lead outside, Dean stepped back and held it as Sam and Skye stepped through behind him, "What was he supposed to do?"

"I was nine years old."

"Wait, seriously? Nine?" She wasn't even aware she'd spoken aloud until Dean rounded on her, looking at her like he'd very much like to strangle her. Pfft, like that was going to do anything. He'd been wanting to strangle her for days and he hadn't exactly bothered to keep that fact to himself, the jackass. "What? That's fucked up, dude."

"See? Even your friend agrees."

"Not my friend and also not helping... and what was he supposed to say, Sam?"

Giving up his attempts to intimidate her into silence yet again, Dean turned on his heel, stalking off and leaving them to follow. Or not. She could always not. She could always head to the highway and hitch back to New Orleans.

...burning pain, searing through her insides like she was being ripped apart...blood on porcelain…

Okay, so maybe 'not' wasn't an option. With a sigh and a minor effort of will, Skye pushed back the intrusive memories, brushing them off with the skill of long practice. Suppressing a shiver, she was made acutely aware of the threadbare state of her clothing as the chill air raised goosebumps on her skin. Wasn't California supposed to be warm?

"He was supposed to say 'Don't be afraid of the dark'."

"Gotta say, that does seem like the reasonable response." Absently nodding agreement with Sam, Skye opened her big mouth. Partially to piss Dean off, but mostly because she was just tired of holding her tongue, "Pretty sure that's the answer any normal parent gives."

Because she knew what 'normal' was. Please. Her only exposure to normal was Roseanne and Home Improvement. What she wouldn't have given to be raised by Tim and Jill Taylor instead of her demon of a mother. Yeah, well, if wishes were horses, we'd all be eating steak. Or some shit.

"You stay outta this!"

"Or you'll what, glare me to death?" Tossing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes, Skye raised a brow at Dean's flash of temper. Normally she'd shut up and step back, having gotten popped one too many times for mouthing off, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction. Besides, he wouldn't actually hit her...probably... and she was unarmed and not even the littlest bit of an actual threat and much as she might want to think he was a total, complete, absolute asshat… He, in fact, wasn't. Dammit. "Or maybe you'll play 'The Best of Journey' over and over and over. Again. Then maybe I'll finally just give in and off myself."

"Keep it up and I'll do it for you." Dude thought he was so damn scary, and okay, he kind of was, but if she gave so much as an inch she knew damn well he'd take the whole fucking mile. Flexing his fingers like he could just about feel her neck in his hands, Dean settled for flipping her off when she took a step toward him, calling his bluff. With a final huff in her direction, he rounded on Sam, getting the conversation back on track, "And you, are you kiddin' me? Of course you should be afraid of the dark. You know what's out there."

"Yeah. I know, but the way we were raised after Mom was killed and Dad's obsession with finding the thing that killed her?"

Stepping up behind Skye, Sam gave her shoulder an absent pat. Whether it meant 'sorry my brother's a dicktard', 'nice, good job', or even 'I'll totally smack him around for you', she had no idea. She knew Sam was just trying to be friendly though, reassuring even, but she couldn't stop herself from eeling out from under his hand, her skin crawling at the contact. Nope, no thank you, please stop that. At least he didn't seem to notice, it's not like she wanted to offend him or anything. Considering she'd known him for about long enough to microwave popcorn, he seemed like an alright guy. Unlike his brawler of a brother.

"-but we still haven't found the damn thing, so we kill everything we can find-"

"-saved a lot of people doin' it, too."

"You think Mom would have wanted this for us?"

His voice growing louder than perhaps he'd intended, Sam showed the first hint of a temper of his own. This was definitely her cue to take a step back and pretend invisibility cloaks were a thing that existed outside of Hogwarts. Why couldn't she have inherited some kind of awesome chest full of useful shit? No. Instead, when her Mom died, all she'd gotten was a bunch of dusty boxes and some broken furniture. Yay for unrealistic standards set by the media! Sigh.

"-the weapons training and melting silver into bullets? Man, we were raised like warriors, Dean."

Or Doomsday preppers maybe. With just a dash of vigilante, if Dean's rambling-and-frankly-batshit-insane stories were anything to go by. Which meant either Sam was a total fruitcake too, sharing in Dean's delusions or… or maybe Dean wasn't totally full of shit. At least, not all the time, though she did have a suspicion he at least exaggerated just a tad.

Leaning back against the side of the building, one foot propped on the brick behind her, Skye listened to the two young men argue, the whole conversation more than a little crazy. Was this even really happening? She was hundreds of miles away from 'home', not that New Orleans had ever been home but whatever, with a hulking brute of a young man who was like seven years older than her and a self-confessed serial killer, trying to persuade his younger brother to road-trip with them to find their missing father, who happened to disappear while hunting a monster. An honest-to-God, fangs-and-claws, lives-under-the-bed and goes bump-in-the-night monster.

...was she absolutely sure she wasn't just totally nuts? It wasn't exactly outside the realm of possibility...

"So, what are you gonna do? You gonna live some normal apple-pie life, is that it?"

The anger that had laced Dean's voice seemed to drain out of him, leaving him sounding bone-tired. There was that little pang of almost-sympathy again. Nope, go away, you're not welcome here.

"No. Not normal. Safe."

"That's why you ran away?" Jamming his hands in his pockets, Dean's lips thinned as he turned away, his gaze briefly locking with hers. From the look she got, the reminder of her presence right that second wasn't exactly appreciated. Well, screw him, it's not like she had much choice in the matter. Also not her fault if just the sight of her tended to piss him off and also, she didn't care. Nope, not even the teeniest, tiniest little bit…liar...


"I was just going to college, Dean." And you should have been proud of me. Of course Sam would never voice that aloud, but even after all this time it still stung that Dean had sided with their father. The real reason Sam had left and stayed gone, "It was Dad who said if I was going to go, I should stay gone. That's what I'm doing." Or at least what he'd been trying to do, and rather successfully up to this point.

"Yeah, well… Dad's in real trouble this time, if he's not dead already. I can feel it." Sam noted the signs of strain around Dean's eyes, the weariness in his voice. The man was wiped out. Pulling his gaze back from Skye yet again, Dean looked up at Sam. Lowering his voice, he couldn't keep the pleading note out of it, "I can't do this alone, Sam."

Except Dean wasn't alone, he was accompanied by Snarky Spice over there and Sam was starting to think that was a big part of the problem. Resigned, Sam lifted a hand to rub at his temple, feeling a headache trying to start up behind his eyes, "...what was Dad hunting?"