A/N: Apologies for the long time between updates, I know how annoying it can be, but bear with me. It takes a long time for me to put into words what is already in my mind and I don't have a lot of spare time anymore. Thanks to those who have stuck with this fic even though I suck at updating it.

Chapter 6: Preparations

When I finally fall asleep I have one of the most vivid dreams of my entire life. I am walking through the dark school, boards creaking under my feet. Sam and Dean walk in front of me, talking to one another as they scan the building. I recognize the area of the school, we are on the second floor, the same floor on which the demon attacked me the other day. There is still a slight breeze flowing through the school, making my hair stand on end.

"Hey, Lara, did you see this the other day?" I hear Dean call from down the hallway.

I turn in his direction, towards the end of the narrow hallway, to see what he is talking about. Suddenly, a wide board cracks and falls from the ceiling above Dean.

"Dean!" I cry out, trying to warn him.

I am too late, the board collides with Dean's head, knocking him to the ground. Sam and I wheel around, shotguns aimed at the hall, expecting an attack.

"Dean!" Sam calls. "Dean?"

Dean doesn't respond to his brother's calls and lies motionless on the ground. We aim our guns into the dark, not knowing where the attack will come from, but knowing an attack will come because the board falling could not have been an accident. I am just about to lower my gun when I am thrown into the wall behind me, my gun accidentally firing into the wall across from me. I am suspended, pushed against the wall by an invisible force, unable to move.

"Sam! Run!" I yell, hoping Sam can get away.

My call dies out in my throat as pressure increases on my chest, pinning me tightly against the wall. A figure appears in front of me in the time it takes me to blink and I know this isn't going to end well. The figure raises a hand in Sam's direction.

I wake with a start, sweat covering my body, my breathing labored. It was as if that nightmare was real, it seemed real, it felt real. The details were too vivid, so vivid that I begin to suspect it wasn't just a dream. A bad feeling settles in my stomach like a rock as I get up from my bed. I start to prepare for the day ahead, gathering my supplies, I can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. I splash cold water from the sink over my face, trying to calm myself down. In about an hour I will meet with Sam and Dean to decide what we are going to do when we get to the school. I would never tell any hunter what I just experienced, one, they probably wouldn't believe me, two, if it actually happened they would think I'm some psychic or, worse, a monster. The weird dream will stay a secret for now, no need to worry the Winchesters about what is probably nothing. I put on a black tank-top, my green jacket and plain jeans and sit on the bed, flipping through my hunting notebook. About five minutes before I am supposed to meet Sam and Dean, there is a knock at the door. Walking over to the door, I tuck my gun behind my back, a precaution I always take. I open the door cautiously, revealing the two Winchesters on the doorstep.

"What? Did you expect us to be the demon?" Dean jests.

"Actually, yes, I did. You're just lucky I open doors before I shoot," I tease back.

"That's a good practice," Sam joins in.

I step back, opening the door to allow them in, but they remain on the threshold.

"What is it?" I ask.

"I thought we could just talk about it on the way there, you know, in the car, it's more private. You never know who's around that might hear us," Dean says.

"Are you serious, Dean, that's crap! He just wants to stop and get breakfast," Sam says, giving a critical look to his brother.

"Is that a crime now?" Dean remarks.

"You don't have to lie to her," Sam says.

"No, you don't, and breakfast sounds way better than sitting in this motel eating from the vending machine, let's go," I say.

I grab my bag and follow them out of the door, down the long narrow hallway, to the parking lot outside.

The parking lot is a desert of asphalt apart from the handful of cars parked in it, whoever planned out the building expected far more customers than this place is seeing. I start to walk over to my car, but the Winchesters stop behind me.

"What now?" I ask.

"We can take my car," Dean says. "C'mon."

"One sec," I say, continuing to my car.

I unlock the car, the whole thing is covered in rainwater from the small midnight shower last night. I am always anxious about leaving it anywhere alone because of the arsenal in the trunk. Of course the Camaro has far more meaning to me than just transportation, so I also do not want to leave it for fear of it getting stolen. I open the trunk and pick up the duffel on top before removing the false bottom. I set the duffel inside, looking through the array of weapons, trying to pack the essentials while also taking out my fake ID from the other day. I am placing a tub of salt into the bag when Dean walks up behind me. He just stands there and I know he is looking at all the stuff in the trunk, as well as looking at my car.

"Nice ride," he says.

"Thanks," I say, smiling pridefully.

"What year?"

"It's a '71, my dad got it for me," I say. "Obviously the trunk is a personal touch."

"No kidding, it's a good setup though," Dean says. "I've got one like it, wanna see?"

"I was just coming, if you're trying to ask me nicely to hurry up," I say replacing the false bottom.

I put the duffel over my shoulder and shut the trunk, locking my car. Dean leads me across the parking lot to the car Sam is now standing by. The car is gorgeous, a sleek, shining black like mine; it also a Chevy, but not a Camaro, an Impala. It's an older model, though you could never tell by it's condition, it's owners have clearly been good to it all these years, really good. There is not one speck of dirt on the car, it is so clean I can see my reflection in the chrome lining surrounding the grille and headlights. The license plate on the front is a Kansas plate reading "KAZ 2Y5", making me wonder if that is where the brothers are from or if the plate has simply been swapped for a cover.

"Wow," I say, completely in awe of the car. "I don't even think 'nice' covers this."

"Oh, please, don't get him started," Sam says in mock-irritation.

"It's okay, Baby, he's just jealous," Dean says to the Impala.

Dean walks around the car to the trunk, taking a second to pat the hood as he walks by. I can't judge him in the slightest, I treated my car the same way when I first got it and sometimes I still do, it reminds me of my family. The trunk of the Impala is about twice the size of my trunk, and, unlike mine, is probably big enough to stash a body in if need be, which is sometimes a necessity for a hunt. I watch as Dean pulls up a false bottom to the trunk and props it up with a shotgun. Inside the trunk is an arsenal similar to my own, but far larger because of the extra trunk space. Guns, knives, various stakes, and other assorted hunting items are scattered in the trunk in no order that is apparent to me. Dean grabs two fake IDs out of the trunk and hands one to Sam. He shuts the trunk and we get into the car, Sam and Dean get in the front and I get in the backseat. The car is just as spotless on the inside, the black leather, bench-style seats look almost brand new. I slide in the backseat, almost scared to even touch the leather, and I am careful when I swing the door shut.

"What year?" I ask once we are all inside the Impala.

"She's a '67," Dean says with pride, turning the key in the ignition.

With no trouble at all the engine comes to life. Dean shifts gears and we drive off in the direction of the school.

The Impala's engine is louder than the engine of my Camaro, probably due to the difference in age, and that is the only sound I can hear for the first few minutes of driving, despite our need to form some sort of plan before we get to the school. The diner where we plan to grab breakfast is only about ten minutes from the hotel, so we don't have that much time to talk.

"So, what's our plan of attack?" I ask, trying to start up the conversation.

"What do you mean?" Dean says without taking his eyes off the road.

"We can't just go in there guns blazing," I say.

"She's got a point, this isn't just some low-level ghost job, Dean; this is a demon," Sam adds.

"We still don't know if demons can even be killed."

"Okay, so what do we have? Devil's traps, salt, holy water, and exorcisms, that's about it," I say. "We've gotta plan it out so we can trap this thing and send it straight back downstairs. Otherwise, we'll be in serious danger. Not to point out to obvious."

"You've been to the school before, how well do you know it?" Dean asks.

"Pretty well, I've been there once and seen a map once."

"Once?" Dean says in a criticizing tone.

I smile, forgetting how weird that usually sounds to people.

"I have an eidetic memory, I only need to see it a few times to know exactly where I'm going."

"That's useful, so you know where the smallest corners or places in the building are?" Sam says.

"Yeah. There's a dead-end hallway on the second floor and a small room with only one entrance on the bottom floor, it's more like a shallow basement really..."

"That's good enough. We can draw devil's traps in those places and hopefully corner the demon there. Then we can exorcise it and call it a day."

"Easier said than done, Sammy, demons don't exactly go wherever we want them to, and they tend to notice devil's traps."

"Oh really, Dean, I didn't know that," Sam says sarcastically.

"But we might be able to give the demon no other choice but to go into the trap. We could try to salt every other way it could go except for right into the trap," I say.

"That might work, it's worth a shot," Sam says.

We arrive at the small diner a few minutes later and I feel a lot better about our plan than when we started. It will be hard to trap the demon, but it can be done and I feel more confident about it working with the Winchesters. We sit down at a table and the waitress comes right over.

"Just coffee, thanks," I say.

"Same for me," Sam says.

Sam and I both look at Dean, who seems to be studying the menu. Sam rolls his eyes knowingly as Dean starts to order.

"I'll have a short stack with a side of bacon and..." Dean starts and then sees Sam giving him a criticizing look. "Never mind, that's good."

The waitress walks away and I shake my head, smiling.

"What?" Dean asks.

"Nothing, I just...I used to do the same thing to my brother."

"It's annoying, you know, a man should be able to eat what he wants."

"Yeah, Dean, and you really think it's a good idea to eat that much before a hunt?" Sam says sarcastically.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Dean says, giving a smug smile to his brother.

We talk very quietly about our plan for the hunt as we wait for the waitress to come back. I tell Sam and Dean the best places to put salt to channel the demon into the corners where we will place the traps. I like the way the plan is taking form, but I still can't shake the bad feeling I have from my dream.

"You okay?" Dean asks me.

I realize I have been staring absently at the table.

"Huh? Oh- yeah, I'm fine, thanks. I just...didn't sleep well I guess. I'll be fine after I get my coffee, trust me."

Sam smiles, seeming to be amused by my coffee comment. I think, based on his order being the same as mine, that he finds it amusing because it's the truth for him too.

After we finish at the diner, we all pile back into the Impala and head for the school. I sit in the backseat, contemplating once again whether I should tell Sam and Dean about my dream. Again, I decide it probably is better that I don't give two good hunters any reason to suspect something might be wrong with me. They don't seem like the type of hunters that would jump to the immediate "monster" conclusion, but I don't want to take the chance. We go over the plan once more as we get closer to the school, it is a fairly simple plan considering the caliber of creature we are dealing with. Still, I have faith in it, despite the outcome I saw in my dream. For once, I am glad I am not alone on a hunt, I would never have been able to pull this plan off on my own, it wouldn't have even been an option. A few minutes later, Dean pulls the Impala up to the same spot my car sat when I first came to the school. He turns the engine off, but neither of the brothers gets out.

"Wow," Sam says, looking at the school.

"Damn," Dean follows. "This place just screams 'haunted', doesn't it?"

"Tell me about it," I say, getting out of the Impala first.

We gather the essentials from the trunk of the Impala: shotguns, my duffel, a lot of salt and holy water, iron rods, flashlights, and two cans of spray paint. I shoulder my duffel after placing the salt and iron in it; I hold my shotgun at my side. I start to walk, but Sam stops me.

"Wait. Lara, do you have anti-possession protection?"

"Yeah, this," I say, pulling my necklace out from under my shirt, the pendant looks like a small devil's trap. "You?"

Simultaneously, the brothers pull the left side of their shirt collars down, revealing matching anti-possession tattoos just below their collarbones.

"Damn, that's a good idea."

"We learned it the hard way," Sam comments, releasing his collar.

"Alright, here goes nothing," Dean says, closing the trunk.

We approach the school, making our way through the chain-link fence and up the pathway to the doors. There is apprehension in my very breath, and I only hope Sam and Dean don't notice.

"Lead the way," Dean says.

I push open the massive wooden doors once more, hoping that the demon isn't waiting on the other side. When I don't immediately die by opening the doors, I take a breath and step inside. We all click on our flashlights, though it is not completely dark, it is still hard to see.

"This way," I say, making my way to the inner staircase.

I walk with purpose, but just slow enough so Sam and Dean can get a bearing on where everything is. Unlike me, they haven't seen the inside of this place and in case we need a quick escape, which is likely, they need to know how to get out.

"We should start with the second floor hallway," I suggest. "After that, we can work our way downstairs. Oh and be careful, the floor's extremely unstable."

"Yeah, I see the holes, looks like someone already found out the hard way," Sam says.

I laugh, raising a hand, "Guilty."

"No, you didn't-"

I smile, "I'm fine, it didn't hurt as much as it looks like it would. That's actually how I found out there was a demon here so, guess I got lucky. I fell from the second floor into the shallow, basement-like level down there."

I point at the gaping hole in the ceiling above us and then at the hole in the floor directly below it.

"Lucky for me the floors weren't thick."

We ascend the staircase to the second floor carefully, hoping to avoid repeating my mistakes. Once we make it to the second floor, I lead the brothers to the shorter hallway that is adjacent to the long hallway leading to the principal's office. We pass three classroom doors before we get to the end of the short hallway. The hallway ends in a wall with a small window looking out to the side of the school.

"Time to get to work," I say, dropping my duffel by the wall.

Sam and Dean drop their bags as well and start pulling out the large containers of salt. I, on the other hand, pull out a can of spray paint and start to spray a devil's trap into the floor. I stop after a single line, as I realize on the floor the trap is extremely obvious. I walk into a classroom that hasn't been salted shut yet and look around for anything sturdy. In the corner of the room is a small, slightly-rusted metal desk. I pick it up and carry it out of the room, walking it back to the end of the hallway. I sit it down right where I intended the devil's trap to be and climb on top of it after quickly testing its ability to hold weight. I pick up my can of spray paint from where I placed it on top of the desk and start to spray a devil's trap into the ceiling instead. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sam watching me for a few seconds, I think I see him nod in approval.

After I finish the devil's trap on the ceiling, I cover the single line I made on the floor with a piece of loose wood. Sam and Dean are just finishing salting all possible exits in the hall, so I place a line of salt under the window at the very end of the hallway and move the desk off to the side.

"Good idea," Sam comments as he comes out of the classroom. "I can't even see it from here."

Dean comes back from salting the entrance to the longer hallway.

"Okay, let's move on."

We pick up our bags and head back downstairs, creating lines of salt in strategic places as we go. We head down to the shallow basement and I decide it is a good time to finish testing out my theory, considering everything has run smoothly so far. I lead us to the furnace room, the door is still open from when I kicked it in the other day. It is exactly how I left it, twisted metal and sulfur everywhere.

I walk inside to start the devil's trap, Dean follows me right in, Sam, however, stops dead in his tracks at the doorway.

"Do you guys really not see that?" Sam says.

"What? The sulfur? Yeah, Sammy, that's why we're here: demon, remember?"

"What sulfur? I mean all the blood."

"Dude, stop screwing around, there isn't any blood. All I see is some seriously messed up metal and what looks like a lot of sulfur glitter."

"What? Okay, what I see is the janitor's room Lara told me about."

"Lara, what is he talking about?"

I can hardly believe I was right.

"Sorry, Sam, I needed to see if I was right. I was wondering why this place has so many theories on what happened, how everyone died. My bets were on the furnace blowing up down here and killing people above, but I couldn't be sure. When I came down here the first time I saw this room was clearly the furnace room because of all the twisted metal pieces and then I found the sulfur, which is how I found out about the demon before it decided to throw me around upstairs. So, when you guys came I decided to tell Sam I believed the story about the homicidal janitor. Dean, you didn't know any of the theories, so I didn't tell you any because I needed an unbiased mind to look at this room. I think that the demon is trying to cover up its trail, probably to keep hunters off its back. I think that whatever theory a person believes, this room appears in a way that supports that theory. With all the conflicting stories, no hunter would think anything supernatural was going on here besides ghost hauntings. Since Dean is seeing the furnace room, I assume I put my bets on the right theory."

"So, what? The demon made it so this room appears differently?" Dean says.

"Exactly."

"But why go through the trouble?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. My best guess is it may have been part of Rosanne O'Donnell's deal. A way to make it seem like an accident so no on would suspect her, her death was the final way to put to rest any suspicion of her involvement in Lillian's death. I guess if you're going to Hell in ten years anyway and you pretty much hate your family, what do you have to lose? It may have just been to keep her own family from suspecting her, who knows? I think the demon went along with it because it would keep any hunter from jumping to the conclusion of a deal going down. Plus, the demon gets to take out a lot of other people. That bit, I assume, was for its own enjoyment."

"Not bad," Dean says.

"That's really good, how long did it take you to connect all of this?" Sam adds.

I smile, glad that I can put the complicated puzzle to rest, "Thanks. It took a while."

"Let's finish this trap and get this son of a bitch once and for all," Dean says.

"I agree," I say, pulling out my spray paint.

A/N: The next chapter will be a lot shorter and I am well into it, so hopefully, if nothing crazy comes along, I'll be able to update again soon. As always, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews are appreciated.