Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters or Supernatural. They belong to the WB and far more talented people than me. But goddess I wish I did own them. The only thing that's mine is Lacey and believe me, she wishes she weren't.

Part 2: Runaway

I've learned a lot of things over the past few years. Never take life for granted. (Not that I listened to that one.) No one expects the Spanish Inquisition. The jukebox at Pizza Hut will play the same song once every hour if no one picks a playlist. Pizza Hut is evil. Legos are freaking cool. Stay in shape, because you never know when you'll have to run for days in the sun while trailing after missing friends. Hogwarts robes are awesome. Plumbing is the best thing ever invented. Last but not least, get sleep whenever and however you can.

I was curled up in a chair in one of the waiting areas of the floor they were now keeping Dean. I hadn't met him yet. But according to Sam, he did come out of surgery fine. The little brother hadn't let the big brother out of his sight since.

No, I didn't leave yet. But I was waking up again. I could have gone to a motel, but I only had about fifty bucks in cash on me and I wasn't actually sure if any of my credit cards worked here. So waiting room armchairs it was. For some reason, no one bothered me.

That was never a good sign.

I stood up with a weary stretch and noticed that my coffee cup was empty. Meh. I picked up the cup and tossed it in the nearest trash bin. I was sick of coffee anyway. If I remembered correctly, there was a soda machine nearby. I could handle that. A carbonated breakfast sounded pretty good actually. I wandered over to where I'd seen it and was soon blessed by the sight of carbonated sugar. After I got myself an orange soda to substitute orange juice, I peered at the vending machine. I could use candy too. I was just about to buy myself a bag of Skittles when the pay phone next to me rang to life.

I covered my mouth to stifle the startled cry I had almost let out. Stupid pay phone. I got my Skittles. One had to have some kind fruity like substance for the food group thing, right?

I tried to ignore the damn thing as it kept ringing. Why the hell didn't anyone answer it? With a soft growl, I finally yanked the receiver off its cradle as I pocketed my bag of candy. "Hello?"

What I heard was a child's voice. "Swing.. Chop.. Your head on a block…"

Oh, I so wasn't in the mood for this shit. "Listen up, you freak. I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but this is a hos-"

The voice giggled. "Don't you like my song, Lacey? It was made for you."

My eyes went wide and I slammed the phone back down. When they knew your name, it was never a good thing. I took a deep breath and the phone rang again. My left hand clutched my soda bottle tightly. Don't answer. Don't answer.. Fuck.

I picked it up again. "Who is this?"

"Come to the window…"

The window was only three steps away. I could go over without hanging up the phone. But did I want to? Damn my curiosity. It overruled my common sense again. I stepped in front of the window and found myself looking down at the parking lot. A small figure stood in the middle of the lot. I couldn't tell if it was male or female, but I had a feeling it didn't matter. It waved at me and I took a step back.

"Don't you want to sing with us?"

I would have asked if they wanted me to sing a little Sinatra or Dixie Chicks, not that I knew any actual lyrics from either, but before I could, a new voice came onto the phone.

"Oh, God! What are you doing!" It was my voice I could hear. My grip tightened on the phone as I grew pale. There was a scream and I could hear the sound of something wet splattering to the ground. Suddenly, I could smell the rotting flesh instead of the sterile environment of the hospital. "Please! Stop!"

There was a final scream as I recognized the sound of a gunshot. The phone went dead. The phone slid out of my now lifeless grip and I barely noticed it clatter to the floor. My eyes were locked on to the small figure skipping in the parking lot as a car drove right through it as if they didn't exist.

Why the hell was I here? To die? To-

"Hey, are you alright?"

I was too far gone to be startled at this point and merely shrugged weakly. "Peachy." I looked over at Sam who seemed concerned, but you could tell he was on guard for any trouble I might actually be.

Oh, honey child, that poor boy had no idea of what kind of trouble I brought.

I took a calming breath and put the phone back in its place. "What is it?"

"Dean wants to meet you."

I quirked an eyebrow upward. "And he wants to.. Why?"

Sam offered the faintest trace of a smile. "Maybe we want to thank you."

"Right.. Whatever. Lead on, kiddo." I strode past him, giving the window a quick glance. The figure was gone.

"You did not just call me kiddo." Sam insisted as he caught up to me.

"Of course I did. I have to call you something." I smiled sweetly. My wit wasn't up to par yet. That damn call had frayed my nerves more than I had thought.

He rolled his eyes. "How about Sam?"

"Because there's no fun in that." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I could call you Crash Carrigan, but I doubt you'd get the reference." In fact, I was pretty sure that no one would. "How is he anyway?"

"We'll be out of here in a week if we're lucky." Sam was watching me. Studying me. He probably thought I was possessed or something.

"Not in that car. Did you get a look at it?" I shook my head. "Your car is all smooshed. It would need a new frame, new everything. It would probably be cheaper to buy a new car. Well, a new used car."

Sam didn't say anything to that. Maybe it got him thinking about how close of a call it was. Maybe he was thinking about his dad. Or maybe he was thinking about how Dean would react to the loss of the Metallicar.

I said it. Metallicar. We all knew what it was. Not an Impala. Metallicar. Who in the hell started that anyway? I'd like meet them in person and say thank you. It sounded great when I wailed dramatically about it after watching the season finale.

Sam was looking at me expectantly. He was next to an open door of a hospital room. "Well?"

"Huh?" Smooth, Lacey. "Did you say something?"

"I just said, ladies first." He nodded toward the door. Ooh. Little Winchester was getting serious.

As I walked into the room, I felt as if I were in the principle's office. I half expected to be given a Saturday detention. Who actually gets a Saturday detention any way? Anyone? Bueller?

The door shut behind Sam and I felt a heaviness fill the room. Oh lord. It was going to be one of those moments. I held my head up high and folded my arms across my chest to match the stare that Dean was giving me.

It was one of those soldier-esque kind of looks he had. You know, the ones that mean business. Demon going down. Gotta save Sam.

I think this one said, 'Slay the Sue.'

"Where is it?" Dean asked. How the hell did he manage to sound threatening from a damn hospital bed? He was glowering at me and I could feel Sam possibly mimicking him at my back.

I could have played dumb. I could have flat out lied. "It's in my car." I held my ground. "I didn't think it would look good if they found Sam here with a gun in his pants." I glanced at Sam with a look of disbelief. "And really, in your pants? What the hell were you thinking? You could shoot off something.. Er.. and that is not comi.. Not sounding right at all." I groaned and closed my eyes. "I'm shutting up now."

"I'm not going near that line of thought, thanks." Sam muttered. Much to his chagrin, I heard a slightly amused chuckle from Dean.

Maybe they wouldn't kill me. "Look," I began again, "I'll give it back to you as soon as I know you guys are alright. It's not as if I were going to keep it." Although that would be one hell of a souvenir. Hey, I got a ring from Middle Earth, a robe from Hogwarts, and a stake from Buffy. At least I never left these damn situations empty handed.

Dean was still glaring at me. Damn it. "Good. You're going to take Sam and get it right now."

"What?" Geez. Bossy much? "So he can just stuff it down his pants while he waits around here for you to stop using a bedpan?"

"Hey! I'm not using a.." Dean was getting annoyed now. "What the hell is your problem?"

My problem? My problem was that you weren't using common sense. "Hello, Mr. Wounded Prey, there is a thing called security here. Walking around with a loaded colt in your pants is a way to get arrested. Whether it's for sexual harassment or a concealed weapon charge is completely up for grabs though."

"Why do you care?" Sam asked. "Who are you anyway?"

"What, now, you ask my name?" I threw my hands up in the air. For a couple of skilled hunters, they were just kind of slow today.

Oh god. What if that was because of me. The Mary-Sue effect could already be tainting them. Dear god.

"We've been a little busy what with almost dying and all." Dean snapped at me.

Oh yeah. That could be a reason too.

"I'm Lacey." I said with a shrug.

"That's it?" Sam asked. "Just Lacey?"

"Isn't it enough?" What, they want to get hypocritical about names when they use bikini inspector ids? "I got you guys here."

"Yeah and we're real glad, grateful even, but who are you?" Sam just wouldn't drop it.

"Lacey…" I muttered my last name.

"What was that?" Dean asked, his eyes were confusing me. Actually, I think they were mocking me.

"… You heard me."

Dean shook his head, which made him wince. "No, I don't think I did."

Oh, you're all evil and I hate you. "Voorhees."

Sam and Dean exchanged a look and Dean started laughing at me. "You're kidding me, right?"

I wanted scream at him. "No! God. So I have a fictional serial killer's last name. Just.. Drop it. Ok? Fuck.. It's not that funny."

Sam was chuckling now. Oh great. My name is somehow shits and giggles for these two. "We're sorry. Really."

Liars. I hated them. I was so making Veronica Mars my favorite fandom again.

The phone next to Dean's bed rang and I stiffened.

"Who'd be calling here?" Dean looked at Sam.

Sam shrugged. "Could be a wrong number." He walked over and reached for the phone.

I wanted to open my mouth and tell him not to answer it. It was for me. I could feel it. I took a step back as Sam answered it.

"Hello?" Whatever it was that Sam heard, it made him frown. He shared a look with Dean, who arched his eyebrow. Sam's gaze fell onto me. "It's for you."

I could have bolted, but no. I stood my ground and stalked over to the phone. I snatched it from a confused Sam and nearly growled into the phone. "What?"

There was that giggle. "Lacey.. Come play with us!"

"I don't think you play the kind of games I like." I was aware that the Winchesters were watching me like hawks. But what could I do? "Besides, I don't know the rules."

"That's easy. We win. We always win."

"Gee, the incentive to play doesn't seem to be enough for me."

"You're already playing." The voice said in a sing song voice. "Can't escape. Tick tock, the clock strikes five and only one can stay alive."

I'd like to say that I had a witty reply in return, but instead I felt something wet and sticky on my hand. I held the phone away from me and dropped it when I saw the blood starting to seep out of it.

The phone sat on the floor in a puddle of blood. I just.. Stared at it.

"What the hell was that?"

I slowly looked toward the brothers and I knew they expected an answer.

What they got was me running away.

This was my problem. Not theirs.

So I ran.