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.

Mhm... Lacey's back in control at the moment.

Part 6: Ain't Gonna Rain

Oh, it's you. Hello again. Welcome to my road to hell.

For the record, I didn't start it.

"If you kick the seat one more time, I'm pulling over." Dean snarled at me.

I resisted the urge to flip him off and just stared out the window to watch the rain come down. "And what are you going to do then? Spank me? 'Cause you can't afford my prices." I lightly tapped the driver's seat with my booted foot.

With a growl, Dean did exactly what he threatened he would. He pulled us over to the side of the road.

Sam was reading the Key of Solomon and didn't bother to look up. He also didn't bother to hide the amused grin on his face. "Try not to kill each other."

Dean turned the ignition off and glared at me. "Out of the car. Now."

"Excuse you?" I stared in disbelief. "My step-child you're driving. I'm not getting out just so you can peel out and leave me stranded!"

He grumbled and I was pretty sure I heard the words 'psycho bitch' in there, but I might have been imagining it. Before I knew it, Dean was out of the car and my door was open. "Out. We're going to have a little talk."

It was raining pretty hard by then, so I pointed that out. He said he didn't care. There was an exchange of stubborn looks.

I threw my hands up in the air and got out of the car. "Fine. But if I catch pneumonia and die, I'm making sure to haunt you."

He slammed the door shut and led me away from the car. "Oh, like that's a threat." When we were out of any possible hearing range for Sam, he turned around. "What the hell is your problem now?"

"My problem?" My mouth hung open. "I don't have a problem. You have the problem. You've been down right rude to me ever since I met you. I played good Samaritan and this is the thanks I get?"

"Maybe it's because this is all a little too convenient." Dean was not a happy camper and the rain pouring down probably didn't help any. "You randomly show up on the highway, need our help, have a car to spare, and then you manage to get Sam on your side..."

You're right, it was convenient. That was my curse. I wasn't just a Mary-Sue, I was a Convenient Plot Device. "Fine. Blah blah blah. You don't trust me." Good for you. It's probably best you didn't. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want to know what you want." His eyes burned into mine. If he were from Krypton, I'd expect to get a little heat vision action. Or get x-rayed. Ick.

"I want a pony." I said in a sickeningly sweet voice. Before he could snark at me, I shrugged and resumed normal vocal tones. "I want to not die. I want to know why the fuck I'm in this mess." Oops. The voice was rising. "I want to be able to have a night off from work without someone wanting to kill the fuck out of me. I want to never ever see pizza again. But most importantly, I want it to stop raining on me!" I stomped my foot and brushed a lock of damp hair off of my cheek. "I don't want to be in this situation any more than you do. You don't trust me? Fine. I don't care. I just want to go home and I can't go home until whatever it is that wants to play games with me, goes away."

He may have listened to my little tirade, but it didn't change his opinion of me. "If you do anything to hurt Sam or me, or anyone else, so help me..."

I held my head up high and stared right into his eyes. "I have absolutely no intention of doing either." There was a moment there. What kind, I didn't know. In fact, I couldn't really tell you what happened next, since I suddenly felt the ground disappear beneath me.

Everything went black.

I could smell cigarette smoke as my eyes fluttered open. The lights were dim and I could see a round table in front of me. I was groggy, but awake. I took the moment to pull myself together and then checked my surroundings.

The table had a red cloth draped over it and a single flesh colored candle with swirls of red sitting in the middle, its flame flickering by some unknown breeze. The room itself had no doors that I could see, just red fabric hanging everywhere. The only other furniture was an empty antique armchair across from the small red loveseat I was sitting on.

I heard soft, yet urgent, whispering, but shoved the detail away when I felt a chill. I rubbed my arms to send some warmth back into me and looked up to see the black ceiling painted with symbols in white. I couldn't tell what they were, but it didn't look like something I wanted to be around.

A chain rattling caught my attention. My head snapped to the left of me, and one of the fabrics on the wall fluttered.

An exit? Good. I stood up and walked cautiously over. I pushed the curtain aside to see a dark hallway with a lone light hanging from the ceiling. It swayed softly as I eased my way down the corridor.

The sound of chains clanking grew louder and I found myself greeted by the familiar smell of death and decay. I had to cover my mouth to keep from choking. I knew that smell. I hated that smell. I turned to go back to the red room, but the curtain was gone and all that was there was a wall.

No where to go but forward.

I had to remind myself that I could handle it. I'd seen death. I could go on. But even as I kept going, I couldn't shake the icy feeling from my bones.

I continued down the hall and was soon greeted by a pair of bloodstained doors. The smell was so thick in the air that I felt like it was an unwanted blanket suffocating the life from me. I reached out to place a hand on the door and I heard a blood curdling scream. My hand quickly retracted when I heard some more faded whispering and I took a step back, but something compelled me to peek inside.

I call it stupidity.

Ignoring the common sense yelling at me not to, I pushed one door open and took a look inside.

Bodies hung from the ceiling, blood dripping from their skinned and lifeless forms. The chains holding them swayed slowly as someone screamed. I pushed the door open a little more and at the far end of the room, a figure stood in front of a man that was crucified on a metal cross. 'His' back was facing me and the man screamed in agony as the figure peeled a piece of flesh off of him as if they were peeling an orange.

Chains rustled again and the room filled with moans. I looked up at the bodies hanging from the ceiling and my breath caught in my throat. I had been wrong.

They were still alive.

The skinned captives squirmed and writhed in their chains, sending themselves swinging back and forth, spraying the floor with more blood from their open wounds. The screams, maybe even my presence, seemed to excite them.

The figure stiffened. I quickly retreated from the door before 'he' could turn around. I backed away quickly, but found my way blocked as my back collided into something hard.

I didn't turn around, even as a blood covered hand grabbed my throat. It forced my head up and I tried to struggle free, but its grip was too strong.

"What piece are you?"

I felt the familiar pain of something slicing through my flesh and I whimpered. Blood spilled from the cut on my arm and the figure let go, throwing me through the double doors. I cried out as I hit the floor, and it was covered in so much blood that I slid a few extra feet.

A hand grabbed my wrist and I looked over to see a skinned victim clutching at me. "So.. Cold…" My skin burned from their grip even as it sent a wave of frost through me. I wrenched my wrist free only to hear the crashing sound of more victims falling from their chains and onto the floor.

Thud. Slide. Thump.

They crawled toward me, their moans of pain and cries of misery filling me with more dread than the sight of blood did. I tried to get up, but I only slipped and fell back onto the floor.

Laughter filled the room and the lights went out.

Chains moved and I screamed as hands started to paw at me.

"So cold..."

"WAKE UP!"

I did. I'd like to say that I woke up without a fuss, but I was screaming bloody murder. I struggled to get out of my captor's grip, but it was strong and firm.

"Calm down! It was dream!" The voice was familiar and I felt as if someone were giving me an order. The voice softened slightly with a just a hint of concern. "It was a dream. You're fine. Now stop struggling."

I finally opened my eyes as I tried to slow my breathing. Sam was staring at me with concern and looked over my shoulder. I followed his look and realized that Dean was holding on to me.

We were still at the side of the road. The rain had stopped and Dean was on his knees with me in his grasp. I opened my mouth to speak, but I had no will to power it. I just shuddered as I remembered the burning hands and the moans.

"What happened?" Sam asked. "Dean said that the two of you were talking when you fainted."

I shook my head. I couldn't speak. Not then. I tried to break free from Dean, and I cried out in pain. Dean's grip loosened instantly and I lifted my left arm with a sense of dread. It was still cut and bleeding, and my wrist was still bruised from where the first body had grabbed me.

"Can we go now?" I managed weakly, staring at the bloody trail on my arm. I wanted to be warm. "Please?"