Alice got Mary cleaned up at a local YMCA, posing as the branch supervisor. She stole his face off a plaque, hosed the kid off and booked it before anyone could ask too many questions. Mary fumed silently, but seemed to calm down a little once the gunk was rinsed off her.

"Still want to go home? We could stop for ice cream on the way," Alice suggested as they got in her car.

"I just want to go home."

Mary was quiet and somber, worry pulling at her features as they started to drive.

"You can tell Allison I'm the one who ruined your dress," Alice offered conciliatorily. "I'll talk to her for you, make sure you don't get in trouble."

Mary stared out the window and gave no reply.

"You're awfully scared to go home," Alice went on, probing, testing the waters to see if there was an opening she could exploit anywhere in Mary's psyche. "Are they ever mean to you there?"

Mary crossed her arms tight over her chest and slumped in her seat, but held her silence.

"You know, if you don't like it at home you could always come with me. Then you wouldn't have to worry about them being mad at you. Not for shifting. Not for anything."

Earlier, Mary had deposited the hand gun Alice gave her into the side pocket on her door. Now, she pulled it into her lap covertly, but not subtly enough to avoid catching Alice's attention. The older shifter sighed in disappointment.

"Ok. So it's like that. I was hoping you'd come easily."

"Take me home," Mary said. Her voice was soft, close to breaking. Her eyes were framed with red, glistening as tears threatened. Her lips quivered for a brief instant before she pressed them hard together.

"I know you don't understand this right now, Mary, but your home is with me," Alice informed her. "With us. You have another family you don't know yet. I'm going to take you to meet them. You're going to be one of us."

"Take. Me. Home."

Mary raised the gun, but her arms trembled, the weapon too heavy for her, shaking in her grip. A tear fell down onto her dress and her breath started to come fast and shallow. Alice tsked at her and parked the car.

"I see your Dad didn't teach you everything."

Alice grabbed the gun away from Mary, who shrieked and shrank back against the locked door, hands scrabbling at the handle in a futile attempt to open it.

"Never point a gun at someone unless you're about to fire. Especially if they're close enough to take it away from you."

Alice checked the chamber, cocked the gun and offered it back to Mary. She froze and stared at it open-mouthed for a moment.

"Go on. I won't take it away again," Alice coaxed. "Show me what you've got, kid."

Slowly, tentatively, Mary took the gun again. She looked at it for a few seconds while Alice waited.

"Why won't you just take me home?" Mary cried, tears streaming freely down her flushed cheeks as she trembled.

"You're home is with me. Those people raising you? They have no right to you. They stole you. They're imposters, pretenders, thieves."

"I just want to go home!"

"I'm not letting you go."

Mary sobbed harder, head bent low over the gun in her lap. Alice waited patiently for her to pull it together, but she got tired of waiting after a few minutes.

"Listen to me, little one. If I take you, you will never see Dean and Allison again. You can sit there and cry about it, and I'll take you away. Or you can stop me. Make your choice."

Alice kept waiting and Mary kept crying. Five minutes passed, and Alice nodded.

"So I'll take you then."

She threw the car into gear and started to drive. Beside her, Mary's heart was beating in the pit of her stomach, making her sicker with every heavy, hollow thump. She felt like she couldn't breathe, could barely see through the salty veil of her burning tears. She hicced a few times and thought of her Aunt and her Father. She thought of never seeing them again and wished with every fiber of her being that she never would have gone out with Alice. She tried to speak, tried to tell Alice that she couldn't do this, that she had to take her home, but she was too upset to get the words out. Broken, ragged sobs were the only sounds she could make, keening wails and aggrieved moans filling the car as Alice got up to speed.

"Don't be so upset. We'll be home soon. Really home, forever," Alice said. Her cheery tone pierced through the fog of Mary's desolation and hit something hard deep in her heart. It made a spark that ignited a pool of rage, dormant as a well of crude hiding under the shale of Mary's soul, a dark under current of her personality she had never had occasion to explore.

Until now.

Mary's fury was unprecedented. She raised her head, still sobbing, but her features were now contorted with a different emotion. Anger made the child ugly. She managed to take one deep breath through her histrionics and used it to screech at the top her of lungs, blasting Alice with the full force of all the rage her little lungs could muster. She raised the gun without thinking and started firing.

Alice didn't see the bullets coming and cried out as they rained over her from out of the blue. She jerked and shook as Mary kept firing, the car careening out of control and swerving into oncoming traffic. Beeps and honks joined the thunder of gunshots, creating a chaotic symphony that ended with a world-rending crash as the car's brief, frenetic journey was halted by a telephone pole. Mary and Alice were both launched forward, putting an abrupt end to the gunshots as Mary was ejected from the car.

As she flew through the air, all Mary could think about was how long she was going to be grounded when Auntie Ally found out where she'd been and what she'd done. It was going to be a long time. It might be for the rest of her natural life.

Her thoughts raced much faster than reality. What felt like a few minutes suspended mid-air to Mary was actually mere seconds. She didn't even have enough time to feel the pain of her violent flight through the windshield. She hit the sidewalk and the world went black.

Alice was fazed by the barrage of bullets, but just barely. It was the surprise of the attack that she took a few minutes to recover from. Her wounds were already completely healed by the time she wiggled the door handle, slugs littering car around her as she regrouped.

"Kid's got more nerve than I gave her credit for," she muttered. The door wouldn't budge, so she turned in her seat and kicked it hard with both feet. It flew off the car completely to clatter onto the sidewalk as other drivers pulled over around them. Alice got out of the car and looked around, spotting Mary lying on the ground nearly ten feet from the car. She headed over, changing forms as she went. When she scooped the child up, she did it with Dean's arms. She hoped a more familiar face would soothe Mary when she woke up. She was battered and bleeding, shards of glass lodged in her skin, pale bone peaking through the side of her calf. She healed slowly, her body doing all the work even as she remained unconscious.

The shifter approached the nearest car. A man got out, gaping, phone held close to his head.

"Yeah, hang on, they're coming over. Oh, god, the girl's in bad shape... holy shit, I see bone!"

The man stumbled away and bent over to throw up onto the asphalt. The shifter took it as a boon. It saved him the trouble of knocking the man out. While he was busy being sick, the shifter put Mary in the back seat of the man's car, got in and drove away.

Allison and Dean navigated obliviously around the wreckage, driving slowly past police cars that bathed the crowd of witnesses and spectators in flashes of red and blue.

"Doesn't that damn thing tell us how close we are?" Dean growled, risking another glance at the compass.

"No. Just drive."

"I'm trying. What a mess. Someone had a few too many before they got behind the wheel."

"Little early for it to be a DUI."

"Not everyone sticks to the five o'clock rule like you."

They passed the wreck, following the compass needle. It moved slowly, leaning toward their right as they neared the freeway. Their worst fears were realized. Mary was on her way out of the state. Dean merged onto the interstate and gunned it, taking them up to ninety as he weaved through the sparse midday traffic. Allison watched the compass needle as it pointed straight ahead of them.

Dean went faster as he was able, until they were finally far enough from the city that there were only a handful of cars in sight ahead of them. He floored the pedal, zooming past them as the speedometer ticked up past one thirty-five. Allison glanced down at the needle, alarm spiking through her like an electric current when she realized the needle was pointing directly behind them.

"Dean! We passed her!"

Dean hit the brakes and the impala fell back. The three cars in the other lane flew past in slow motion as the impala decelerated. Allison caught a glimpse of the last car's driver.

"It's the red car!"

Dean risked a glance over and found his own eyes staring back at him.

"You're kidding me!" he growled. "Why does every shifter I ever hunt end up wearing my face?!"

"Psychological warfare?" Allison suggested, slamming a clip of silver bullets into her gun. "Don't lose him!"

"Thanks captain obvious!"

"I mean stay alongside him!" Allison clarified, rolling her window down hurriedly.

Whoa whoa whoa, what are you doing?! Mary's in that car too!"

"I'm not gonna shoot Mary!" Allison yelled, poking her head and arm out the window and taking aim at the red car's tires. She fired, but the shifter accelerated fast, the car racing forward and slamming hard into the one ahead of it. Honks and screams echoed down the highway as the red car bulldozed it's way in front of the impala. Dean swerved to avoid the cars spinning and sliding, leaving them in the dust as he took off in pursuit of the shifter.

"Are you insane?! Stop shooting!" he shouted at Allison, forced back into the car by his sharp maneuvering.

"We have to stop that car!"

"You're gonna hurt Mary!"

"She's a shifter too, Dean, she can walk away from anything short of a silver bullet to the heart!"

"SO?! THAT MAKES IT OK TO RISK TURNING HER INTO ROADKILL?!"

"DO YOU WANT HER BACK, OR NOT?!"

"I WANT HER SAFE!"

"WELL SHE'S A HELL OF A LOT SAFER-"

"SHIT!"

The red car braked hard in front of them and Dean couldn't stop fast enough. They slammed into the back of the car, crumpling it like a tin can. The rear windshield shattered, fragments of glass exploding onto the impala's hood and into the red car's back seat. Dean and Allison lurched forward, Dean's seatbelt stopping his momentum while Allison smashed against the dashboard with brutal force. She fell back against the seat, blood streaming from her forehead while Dean struggled to catch his breath.

"Allison?"

She didn't respond. The red car pulled off again and doggedly, Dean followed. Shakily, he reached over to feel for a pulse. He found one. Allison was out, but alive. His attention didn't linger on her long. Ahead of him, a small head of blonde hair popped up in the back seat of the red car, shaking off slivers of glass. Mary turned and locked eyes with her father.

"Daddy!"

Dean couldn't hear Mary's scream, but he knew what she was saying.

"Daddy help!"

Dean's eyes widened as he watched Mary start to climb up out of the glassless rear window.

"MARY, NO!" he yelled. He rolled his window down and yelled frantically, trying to stop her. He remembered lessons he and Allison had taught her, preparing her for what they hoped was the unlikely eventuality that she was ever kidnapped.

"No matter what they say, no matter what happens, you have to get away, ok sweetheart? If you're in a car, you have to get out as soon as possible, even if it's moving. Chances are, anyone who takes you wants to hurt you worse than the road will."

It was a practical lesson, but Dean was filled with fierce regret that he hadn't specified that the advice didn't apply if they were on the highway.

The shifter noticed what Mary was doing and braked hard again. Mary was dragged back into the car by the momentum, slamming into the front seats and rolling onto the floor with a short, terrified shriek that was loud enough to reach Dean's ears. He was fast enough to avoid a collision this time, tearing into the other lane and blowing past the red car. He turned the car hard, screeching to a halt with the impala sideways on the freeway, partially blocking both lanes. The shifter saw him and threw the red car into reverse. Dean gunned the engine and chased them, catching a glimpse of Mary in the back seat, still struggling to climb out of the moving vehicle.

"Damn it!"

Dean realized he needed to put an end to this chase before Mary got herself hurt. Allison wasn't right, but she wasn't wrong either. Mary was in danger no matter what Dean did.

He threw caution to the wind and sped up, closing the distance between him and the shifter, nosing up alongside the rapidly reversing red car. He threw the steering wheel hard to the right, ramming at full speed into the car. It spun insanely, flying off the highway into a corn field. The impala skidded to a halt just at the shoulder of the road, dangerously close to joining the red car in the corn field. Dean grabbed Allison's gun and the iron poker and jumped out of the car, sliding down to the edge of the corn field where the red car sat, smoke billowing out from under the hood. The shifter was recovering in the front seat, struggling to open it's door. Dean bore down on him with righteous wrath, releasing a primal shout as he thrust the iron rod through the shifter's gut. The thing cried out, the force of Dean's anger pushing the poker clean through it's gut at a downward angle and into the upholstery behind it.

No spirit, no Alice, Dean observed, too full of adrenaline to feel any emotion at the revelation. He kept moving on autopilot, emptying Allison's clip of silver into the shifter. It roared and squirmed, unable to crawl away from the hail of bullets. Finally, it slumped in its seat, blood dripping from its mouth and trickling past the iron poker.

Dean didn't waste any time gloating over his kill. He dashed to the back door to find it locked. He moved to the back of the car, jumping up onto the ruined trunk in his frantic search for his daughter.

"Mary?! Mary!"

She rose slowly from the floor of the backseat, covered in tiny pieces of glass and smeared with drying blood, but apparently unharmed.

"Daddy!"

"Come on, Mary, come to me!" Dean urged, reaching into the misshapen void where the rear windshield should have been to offer her his hand. She grimaced and climbed onto the back seat, crying as she cut her hands on glass.

"It's ok, you'll be fine," Dean assured her. "Just come to me, baby. I'm gonna get you out of here. Come on."

Mary reached for his hand, but something behind him drew her gaze. Her features lit up with alarm, eyes widening as she screamed.

"Daddy, look out!"

Her warning didn't come soon enough. Something clanged against the side of Dean's head, sending him flying off the trunk and rolling into the corn stalks. The pain didn't hit him until a moment later and it took Dean even longer to realize what had happened. Bells rang in his throbbing head and he groaned, struggling to see past the agony as he rolled over. The shifter advanced on him, blood-drenched iron poker in hand. Dean was too hurt, too fazed by the surprise attack to reconcile reality with what he knew about shifters. Why hadn't silver killed this thing? Was it even really a shapeshifter, or had they made a fatal mistake by misidentifying it?

The monster loomed over Dean, raising the poker. He scrambled to the side as it plunged the iron rod into the soft earth where Dean had been a fraction of a second earlier. Dean was forced on the defensive, fleeing from his attacker as his mind raced. He needed a plan but he didn't even know where to start and it was impossible for him to think of anything but dodging the poker that whipped and whistled through the air. The shifter slashed and jabbed with supernatural strength, cutting down corn all around them as Dean evaded by the skin of teeth. The shifter advanced with cold, deadly calm, expressionless as it turned the tables on the hunter, pursuing him farther and farther from the road.

Dean managed to draw his own gun and take aim. He fired, despite knowing that the silver bullets were useless against whatever the hell this thing was. He just hoped he could buy himself a little time, slow it down enough for him to make it back to Mary, grab her and run.

The bullets hit their mark, stopping the monster momentarily. It shook and glared, grunting at every impact. Dean managed to drive the thing to its knees before he ran out of ammo. He circled around, racing back to the highway hoping that Mary was already out of the wreck, praying that she'd had the presence of mind to get into the impala. If not he would need-

"Aagh!"

Pain, piercing and sudden gripped Dean. He stumbled and lurched, falling to the ground as his leg lit up with agony, blinding in its intensity. He rolled onto his back and glanced down to see the tip of the iron poker peeking out through his thigh. About fifteen feet behind him, the shifter rose slowly, already recovered from being shot fifteen times point blank. Dean realized it had launched the poker at him like a harpoon. Panic gripped him as the monster approached, bearing down on him with the same imposing, unstoppable inevitability as a train. Dean managed to think through the excruciating, pulsating pain of the wound, taking a quick mental inventory. He had knives on him, but he couldn't imagine they would help him now. He had another clip of bullets, but those weren't good for much aside from buying time. Even so, they were his only option. He scrambled to load them into his gun, but the shifter was upon him just as he slammed the clip into place. It kicked the gun out of his hand, sending it flying. Dean's morale vanished into the corn with the only weapon that might have been of any use to him.

The shifter put its foot in the center of Dean's chest, crushing all the breath out of him and holding him immobile as it reached for the poker still lodged in his leg. Dean grit his teeth and grabbed the shifter's leg with both hands, grunting mightily as he struggled to make it move. He put every ounce of strength he had into pushing, but couldn't force the monster to so much as budge. Meanwhile, his quarry gripped the poker and yanked. Dean screamed and spasmed as the poker ripped free from his thigh, felt the searing rush of blood as it became a river beneath him. The shifter raised the poker high, expressionless even in victory as it prepared to kill Dean.

"Hey!"

Gunshots rang out around them, following the sound of Allison's harsh voice. The shifter gasped and stumbled, releasing Dean as it took another round of fire.

"Allison! Get Mary and GO!" Dean shouted desperately. "Silver won't hurt it! GO NOW!"

It was too late. Allison emptied her clip while the shifter only grimaced and shook off the barrage, staggering toward her. As it reached her, she pulled out a silver knife and tried to stab it. The shifter intercepted the blow, grabbing her wrist. It twisted with brutal, decisive force and Allison screamed as her arm broke. The shifter thrust the poker through her chest, letting her fall to her knees at its feet.

"ALLISON!"

Dean shouted helplessly and met her eyes as she choked on her own blood. Time slowed down around them as the breeze danced through the swaying corn stalks and a cloud cast its shade over them. Death entered the clearing and cast his chill over the combatants, patiently waiting for the defeated to breathe their last and accept his embrace.

"Mary!"

Allison's words were inaudible, muted by the blood dripping past her lips and Dean's own shock, but he read her lips and knew what she was saying. A shiver ripped through his already shaky limbs that he knew had nothing to do with the cloud cover. He was losing too much blood, head spinning with dizziness as weakness overtook him.

"Mary... save Mary."

Allison had no death throes, only that last, plaintive plea. Her features contorted with agony and effort as she twisted the fingers at the end of her broken arm into the shapeshifter's clothes. Her left hand crept into her jacket and Dean realized what she was doing. Her insane last resort, a Smith's equivalent to a cyanide pill. She knew she was dying. She wasn't going out quietly or alone. Words from a discussion they'd had long ago came back to him with terrifying clarity.

"Going gently into the night is for pussies. All hunters should go out with a bang."

From twenty feet away, Dean somehow heard the click of pin being pulled from a grenade. With no time to crawl away, all he could do was curl into a ball and roll to face away from Allison's final effort to save her family. The shifter wrenched free of her weak, broken grasp and turned to finish Dean off. Before it could take a step, the world was ripped apart by an explosion. The blast impacted Dean like a tidal wave, rocking him as burning corn and scorched earth rained down. His ears rang and for a minute he wondered if he was dead. He managed to uncurl, however, unable to marvel at the fact that he was still in one piece. He was too in shock, too numb from blood loss and the impending realization of what Allison had just done. He couldn't bring himself to look back, couldn't stomach the thought of what he might see.

Getting up was the hardest thing Dean had ever done in his entire life. Allison's last words echoed in his head, urging him to move, commanding him to push onward. He stumbled, senseless and unfeeling through the rows of corn, following the path of destruction back to the freeway. His body was cold and numb, shock protecting him from both emotional and physical pain as he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other through sheer force of will.

Mary. Mary. Mary.

He could think of nothing but her name as the world dimmed and blurred around him and he careened forward single-mindedly, carried forward more by gravity than his own effort. The ringing in his ears settled into a thin, high-pitched whine that faded slowly. He could see the highway and he could almost hear the world again.

"Daddy! Auntie Ally! Daddy!"

Mary's screams reached him, distant and warped as if from underwater. He saw her running toward him, saw her tears, saw blood covering her from wounds that were already healed. She slammed into him, but he was too weak to withstand the force of her embrace. He fell to his knees and she sobbed harder and pulled his singed jacket urgently.

"Daddy! Daddy are you ok?!"

"Mm-hm."

"Daddy!"

Mary kept crying but her voice was getting more distant with each passing second. The world grew darker and it dawned on Dean that his will was no match for his injuries. He was fighting as hard as he could and it wasn't making a difference. He wasn't going to be able to get Mary out of here. She was going to be stranded on the side of the road, miles from the city, miles from help.

"Mary... call... Sam. Call... your Uncle."

Dean wished he could comfort his daughter, but those words were all he could manage. The darkness surged forward to claim him. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a tall, thin woman in a black suit. She was the last thing he saw before unconsciousness claimed him.

Mary's father went limp in her embrace and she cried and screamed hysterically.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

He was too heavy for her to hold up and she was forced to the ground with his head in her lap.

"Daddy wake up!"

She shook him and shrieked, hyperventilating as absolute panic, complete despair gripped her.

"DADDY! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!"

Dean didn't respond and Mary could do nothing but wail. She was too distraught to remember her father's final instructions, too distressed to find her father's phone and call her Uncle Sammy. She was too young, too inexperienced in tragedy to do the smart thing. All the child could do was pray silently from her heart while she screamed and kept trying to rouse her father's mangled body.

Please help me, please help my Daddy, please help me, please help my Daddy, please help me, please help my Daddy!

"Shush, now."

The voice was firm, hardly comforting. It came from behind and cut through Mary's grief like a knife, upsetting her even more when she recognized it as Dean's. Strong hands gripped her under her arms and pulled her away from her father's body. Mary kicked and shrieked, punched and scratched as the shapeshifter dragged her back to the highway.

"NO! NO! DADDY! LET ME GO! DADDY!"

She fought with every fiber of her being, every bit of strength in her little body, but it was hopeless. The monster carried Mary away.