Carly woke up to the sound of the bathroom door flying open with Dean haphazardly brushing his teeth. When Dean noticed Carly was awake, he rinsed out his mouth and returned to the room, sitting down beside her.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Carly nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a slight headache."

"Are you sure? You slept for quite a while."

"How long is a while?" Carly asked, pushing herself up to sit against the headboard.

"Well, it's the next night or soon to be when the sun goes down in an hour or two," Dean admitted

"Wow, I don't think I've ever slept that long before. I must've been super damn tired," Carly muttered.

"Yeah, and I'm guessing that bonk on the head you received last night also contributed to that."

His words reminded Carly of what Dean found last night. "Did you look into the name on the license?"

"Not really. Sam was the researcher and I just fought the bad guy. I wouldn't even know where to start honestly," Dean admitted.

"Well, you're in luck as I know my way around a computer."

She was no hacker like Sam, but she knew her way around the internet to find the information most could not find. The wolf's name was Andrew Sanderson. So with that, she got to looking for any information she could find.

Carly found most of his social media and the places he visited, but nothing that would lead them straight to his location. Well, until she found a photo of him and a girl. A 5ft 4in, green-eyed, curly haired brunette. Her name was Emily.

"I found something," Carly admitted.

Dean's attention went from the TV playing trash reality television to Carly. Getting up from the bed to stand beside her, leaning down to see her computer screen.

"What'd you find?" he asked.

"I was looking through Andrew's social media and this girl continually popped up," Carly said, pulling up a photo of Emily.

When Dean saw the said photo, he had realization plastered across his face. "She looks like all his victims."

"Indeed, which piqued my interest. So, I did a little digging and found this article." Carly said, scrolling through the page. "Emily died from being mauled in her home about a month ago."

"Just before the killings started."

"Exactly."

Dean stood up straight and put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "So, we have an inkling of why he began to kill, but how are we supposed to find him?"

"The photo was taken at an angle where I can see the address and street the home is on. Plus read this little tidbit at the very end," Carly said.

Dean leaned back down and read aloud. "Emily Johnson was preceded by her fiance Andrew...Sanderson."

Carly met Dean's gaze. "This means that is where he lived as well. It's possible he moved out after what had occurred, but there's also a chance he's still there."

"So, we know where he's going to be."

"Yeah, so let's get our stuff and track the bastard down."

Carly tried to get up from her chair when Dean pushed her back down. "I don't think you should come with me."

The words made Carly's smile drop from her face. She shook her head with a newly formed frown. "You're not going alone."

"You're hurt. I can handle this by myself," Dean sighed.

"No, you can't and we both know that. Did you see that guy? He was ginormous. We are doing this together and if you don't take me with you, I'll just have to find another way to follow after you."

"Which is why I'm sorry."

Dean rushed forward and handcuffed Carly to the bedpost. She looked back at her cuffed hand and then Dean with a glare, pulling against the restraint. "Seriously?"

"I needed your help finding his location, but I never planned to take you with me. It is better this way. Taking you along is a liability and I don't want you getting hurt anymore then you already are. Just relax and I'll be back after he's taken care of," Dean explained.

"You won't be able to do this on your own," Carly insisted.

"I think you underestimate my skills."

"I think you underestimate the strength of who you're going up against."

Dean met her worried gaze with confidence. "I'll be careful, I promise. Just watch some TV and we can celebrate when I get back."

Carly began to say something, but before a single word could escape, Dean had left the motel, closing the door behind him and locking it. She struggled against her restraint, causing the bed to creak. She pulled and pulled, but she didn't have the strength to snap the metal and it made her throbbing headache worse.

She tried to watch TV as Dean suggested, but it didn't help. So, instead she tried to get some rest and prayed Dean would be back when she woke up. As Carly began to doze off, she heard the familiar crackling of a fire. She found herself in her old living room once again, a cup of hot cocoa within her hands. She looked beside her and found her mother sipping her own cup of cocoa.

When her mother realized Carly was staring, she met her gaze with kindness. "Welcome back."

"Why am I here again?" Carly asked.

"Why do you think you're here?" Her mother asked with a raised brow.

Carly sat there for a moment with a shrug. "I don't know. I thought I'd gotten out all my feelings in the last dream, to resolve the pain of the past. So, why I'm seeing you right now doesn't make much sense to me. Especially since I have never dreamt of you before and now I've dreamt of you twice in the last few days."

"Maybe it's because your brain is trying to tell you something," she suggested.

"And what would that be?"

"That you're ignoring a part of yourself because you're scared of it."

Carly met her mother's gaze. "The demonic part."

"Exactly." Her mother said, scooting closer to Carly on the couch. "You were thrown off that wolf like nothing and hit your head so hard you went unconscious. If you had consumed demon blood, he would have never been able to harm you. You would've brought him to his knees before he even had a chance to whimper."

"I'd rather be weak and fragile than a bloodthirsty monster," Carly pointed out.

"Not all monsters do monstrous things. Just because you have demon blood coursing through your veins does not make you a killer. What you choose to do with your gifts is what defines you and locking it away because you're scared of becoming like Sam is childish," her mother explained.

"It may be childish, but locking it away is better than freeing that side of myself." Carly said, setting her cocoa on the coffee table. "I want to be good. I want to be better than what my father thought of me."

"What did your father think of you?"

They both knew the answer to that question, but Carly said it aloud nonetheless. "He said I was a plague on his life. Something sent to torment him. Like I was an irredeemable piece of garbage. That I was...evil."

"So, you believe giving into that side of yourself will make you what he believed you to be. Is that it?" Her mother asked.

Carly's gaze avoided hers with a nod. She knew deep down that she wasn't just terrified of that part of herself because of Sam. It was the thought of becoming what her father believed her to be. She tried her whole life to prove him wrong and giving in to that side of herself felt like doing the exact opposite.

Her mother grabbed Carly's hand and squeezed tight. "You'll never be what your father believed you to be. Allowing that part of yourself to flourish does not mean you will be like Sam. You won't know what kind of person you are until you give it a try."

"I don't want to hurt people…" Carly muttered.

"I know you don't, but you've been stepped on your entire life. Isn't it time for you to be on top?"

"I don't want to be on top for a reason like that."

Her mother leaned forward. "Dean left you behind because you were weak and broken. You want to help him, don't you?"

"Of course, I do."

"Then you know what must happen. One sip and that strength can be a reality."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to. I'm handcuffed to a bedpost," Carly mumbled.

"But are you?"

Carly's eyes flung open as she flew forward. As she did, she heard the clink of metal against the wooden bedpost. She turned to find the cuff had come loose from her wrist, dangling from the bed.

She looked down at her wrist and then the handcuff with shock and surprise. How that happened she had no clue, but she was free and that meant she could help Dean. Carly had no idea how long she had been out, but she hoped she'd make it to Dean in time.

She approached the door as the dream she just had repeated within her mind. That the only way to help him would be to consume demon blood. Part of her wanted to listen to her mother's words. She knew giving in would give her the strength she needed, but the other part of herself told her no. Doing so would be going down a path she never wanted a part of.

As if in answer to her dilemma, there was a knock at the door. In response, she grabbed her gun on the table and approached one slow step at a time. Her hand hovered over the knob with hesitation. Everything within Carly told her to leave the door closed, to back away and stand down, but then another knock sounded upon the wood of the door.

She ignored the feeling and wrapped her hand around the cool metal, pulling the door wide open. When she saw who was on the other side, she understood the feeling deep in her gut. The wolf was standing just outside the door frame, Dean in his grasp; bloody and beaten.

He threw Dean across the threshold like a ragdoll. Dean was unconscious but breathing with a black eye, cut lip, and torn clothing, blood staining his skin. Carly kept her gun raised as she tried to keep the confidence on her face.

"What is it you want, Andrew? Here to finish the job?" Carly asked.

Andrew placed his hands on the door frame, slowly shaking his head. "Oh, I'm not here to kill you, Carly."

The sound of her name made Carly tense up because she never told him her name. He shouldn't have known that.

"How do you know my name?" she asked.

"Let me give you a hint."

Michael leaned his head into the doorway and met Carly's gaze. With a smile, he closed his eyes and when he reopened them they weren't yellow...but black as coal. The sight of this made shivers travel down Carly's spine.