Tandy pressed her foot down on the accelerator and her truck wheezed, the engine sputtering in protest. She banged her palm against the steering wheel and uttered a hurried string of "Come on's", frustrated. Dean had told her that her truck was on its last legs and that she should probably consider retiring it to Bobby Singer's scrap yard, but she didn't want to believe him. Her truck, with its faded, orange paint and busted radio, was a part of her, of her family, her history. It held sentimental value, having been passed down from her Grand Papi to her father, through each one of her brothers, and then at last, to her. She wasn't ready to just give it up, not when every detail inside the timeless pick-up triggered a fond memory of hers. Surely, he of all people could understand that. The Impala had belonged to John Winchester after all. Tandy released a soft sigh. John Winchester. Now, there was a man she never thought she would find herself missing. Particularly in this moment. She remembered him being a tenacious man, driven, obsessive and as tough as nails, particularly on his sons, and yet, for all the terrible stories that she had heard about John, both before and after his death, in her memories, when he had looked at her, his warm, brown eyes had always held such kindness, tainted by a sadness that was more familiar to her than she cared to admit, and when he had looked at his boys, well, she could recall them brimming with nothing but pride and love.

She felt as though she owed it to John, and to their mother, Mary and to all the hunters who lived and breathed and bled for the fight, to at least try and pull Sam and Dean back together again. They were the strongest force that she knew of, and she'd be damned if she let a couple of bad decisions and the end of the world tear them a part.

Tandy bit down on her bottom lip, hard, and glanced down at the flashing beacon on her phone screen. It seemed, from the location of Sam's GPS, that he was holed up in a motel room a few miles from the bar. Luckily, she knew the family who owned it, and it worked in her favour that their seventeen year old son would be manning the lobby.

Her truck rattled down the broken road, nearing its destination and she quickly wiped Sam's dried blood from her chin and dashed away the excess mascara that had leaked beneath her eyelids. The Impala may have had the speed, and paired with Dean's leaden foot, she wouldn't be surprised if he had beaten her there but Tandy had the advantage of knowing the back roads and in bayou county, that made up for a lot of lost seconds.

The Gator Inn - appropriately named due to the monstrous, artificial behemoth that was positioned tactfully alongside the entrance to the near-empty parking lot - appeared before her along the open stretch of road.

Tandy breathed a sigh of relief. The Impala was nowhere in sight. Unfortunately, she hadn't caught sight of the demon bitch's car earlier either but given that the jacked up Spitfire parked near the lobby belonged to the Inn's son, Dash Delony, it wasn't hard to hazard a guess who the lackluster Mustang belonged to.

Tandy smirked and cut the engine. She coiled her hair into a loose braid and reapplied a light layer of lip gloss. She then slid her Colt into the back of her jeans, ensured that her knife was in place upon her hip and stepped out of her truck, making quick strides towards the lobby. Slowly, she pushed the door open and slithered inside.

"Tandy Kinsella?!" Dash exclaimed, quickly slamming shut the open laptop that sat on the counter before him.

The young boy - with his budding moustache and limp, brown hair - scrambled to his feet, nearly toppling over his stool.

Tandy smiled, showing her teeth and pressed her palms into her hips in a casual, if not somewhat inviting gesture. "Hiya, Dash, where y'at?" She breathed, offering him a well-practiced, entirely flirtatious grin. She crept forward, swaying her hips as she did so. The carpet beneath her feet was perhaps once a rich, emerald green, but over time, it had faded to the sickly colour of puke and the walls around her were beginning to yellow. The lobby smelt oddly musty and the closer she drew to Dash, the more the smell intensified, intermingling with the stench of pubescent body odour.

"Uh, what - what are ya doin' here?" He stammered. "D'ya need a room?"

"Actually, a couple'a friends of mine are passin' through town and they said they'd be stayin' here so I thought I might come'n surprise 'em. Would ya mind tellin' me what room they're stayin' in, and maybe even fix me with a spare key?" She purred as she slinked towards the front desk. "Pretty please?" She asked softly, huskily, as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

"This is ... uh ... this is feelin' a lot like that scene in Dukes'a Hazzard." He breathed, glancing down at her mouth.

"I'll bet you're wonderin' if there's a red bikini under this tank top then, ain't that right, Dash?" She asked smoothly. "Hook me up with those keys and there just might be."

Dash gulped and reached for a set of keys on the rack behind him. "Sure thing, anythin' for you." He dangled the keys over the counter. "We only have the two guests at the moment, so I'm assumin' the tall guy and his not-so-friendly girlfriend are your friends?"

"That'd be them." Tandy winked, snatching the keys out of his hands. "Thank you, Dash."

"Hey, wait!" He called, staring longingly after her retreating form. "Whatta 'bout, uh, whatta 'bout a peek at that bikini? You said you would show me." He uttered bashfully.

Tandy smirked and hitched her shoulders, apologetic. "Sorry, Dash, but I never said that. In any case, there ain't no red bikini under this top, and even if there were, what kinda woman would I be if I just up and showed it to ya?" She scoffed and shook her head. "Any way, it was good to see ya again, kid. Real good. Tell your mama I said howdy."

Dash pouted, lost for words, as Tandy crept back out of the door and headed down the corridor, towards the room that Sam and Ruby were occupying.

Carefully, she peered in through a crease in the window and spied the demon sprawled out on the bed. Sam was seated on the edge of the bed beside her, holding her wrist to his mouth. It was such an open display, so raw and unfiltered. Tandy suppressed the urge to vomit. It was like watching a drug addict stick a needle into his vein, chasing the high. She'd be lying if she said that it didn't make her feel terribly uncomfortable, but at least they were distracted. It was sloppy, really, particularly for Sam, but then again, addiction didn't keep company with tact, or carefulness for that matter.

Slowly, quietly, Tandy toggled the door knob. Locked. Figures. She pushed the key into the hole and slid it to the right. It clicked open and she swiftly drew out her Colt, barging into the room.

The bed was empty and she frowned, aiming her gun at each corner of the room.

What in the heck? They were gone?! They were right there!

Suddenly, a large, familiar arm came down around her and the last thing she could recall before she was plummeted into the darkness was a small, clenched fist, and two jet black eyes, glowering at her, from behind it.

She'd been had, she thought meekly, her final thought, before she was snuffed out of sentience by the demon's inhuman slug. Damn.


Tandy awoke to a delicate hum. The noise, a soft whir that seemed to be coming from a ceiling fan overhead, roused her gently into the present. She attempted to raise her hand, to assess the painful throb that radiated from the centre of her face, but her arms were restrained, fastened to either side of a metal chair. She tasted blood in her mouth - her own, she thought - and ran her tongue over her bottom lip. Yep. Definitely her own. Her lip was good and busted.

"I'm really sorry to have to do this, but you left me with no other choice." Sam's voice enounced, penetrating her thoughts.

"Ugh. What?" Tandy groaned, lifting her gaze to stare, unfocused, at the crouched figure before her. "What are you talkin' about? Sam, untie me."

"I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I knew you would try to follow me, so I led you here. I had to make sure you couldn't follow me again." He explained, his voice heavy with sentiment.

"Huh? Why? Whatta ya mean? What's goin' on?" Tandy asked, pulling uselessly at her restraints once more. She blinked several times and the indistinct figures before her began to take shape.

"Hi, there. Me again. The black-eyed skank." Ruby purred, leaning, with her hip cocked, against the door frame. "Don't worry about the rope. It'll chafe like a bitch but I'm sure the maid will come and find you in the morning, by which time we'll be long gone." She smirked, her eyes dark and unkind, before adding, "Don't be too mad at Sam though. This was his idea. I, personally, wanted to kill you."

Tandy chuckled. "Huh, well I guess the feelin' is mutual then." She muttered, dropping her chin to her chest so that she could assess the bindings around her wrists. The rope was knotted in a double figure eight. Shoot. It would be impossible for her to escape, and given that her Colt and knife were currently resting on the bedside table across the room, wriggling an arm free to cut herself loose was out of the equation.

Tandy glanced back up, helpless.

"Don't take it to heart." Ruby continued smugly. "Loose ends and all that."

Tandy scowled at the demon but chose to ignore her. "Sam." She breathed, her gaze seizing his, the only being in the room that she truly cared for, who she was here to fight for. "You don't have to do this."

"I'm sorry, but I do." He murmured, glancing away, unable to look at her.

"Please, there's gotta be another way." She pleaded.

Sam sighed and ran his hand down his stubbled cheek. "There isn't." He rose from the floor and collected a set of keys - car keys - from the dresser. He then looked at Ruby. "We're leaving." He stated firmly. "Now."

"So, that's it then?" Tandy growled. "You're just gonna leave me here like this? You're just gonna up and walk on outta that door with a damned demon and leave me here? I thought I mattered to ya, Sam. I thought we mattered to ya. What about us, Sam? What about Dean?"

Tandy was stalling. Big time. Maybe if Sam wasn't so jacked up on demon blood, he would have realised it. She just had to drag it out a little longer and it seemed, from the way that he was hesitating in the threshold of the doorway and from the absence of a second metal chair, that he was under the impression that she had come alone. Truthfully, she had, but what he wouldn't be expecting was that she had broken her promise to him, she had told Dean, and hopefully, he would be there at any moment.

Tandy winced and uttered a silent curse as something sharp suddenly pierced her neck. She glanced up, bleary-eyed, to see Ruby hovering beside her with a syringe in her hands, its cartridge spent.

"I know what you're doing, and it might work on Sam, sweetheart, but it won't work on me." She breathed quietly, dangerously. "Nothing will stop this from happening. Not Heaven. Not Hell. Not you, or Sam's bozo of a brother. Nothing."

Tandy's vision began to close in and she snarled at the demon.

"Lilith will die. She accepts her fate. Why can't you?" Ruby uttered quietly, almost in admiration, and Tandy felt her tongue become numb, the darkness encroaching from every angle.

What the demon said, it wasn't making any sense. Why would Lilith be okay with dying? What demon would be okay with dying? What did she know that she wasn't letting on? Tandy was beginning to understand why it was that Ruby made her skin crawl, but there wasn't a damned thing that she could do about it, not now. She wanted to speak, to scream, to warn Sam, warn him to run, to slice this black-eyed Hellion's throat, but she was beginning to lose grip, the effects of the drug taking over.

"No." She choked weakly, feeling the tug of unconsciousness reeling her under. "S-sa ..."

Tandy's head flopped forward and the last thing she saw before she gave in to the darkness completely was Sam, exiting the motel room, hand-in-hand, with evil.