Dean's POV

She was pleasant. She told me about how she grew up. She had lived in that small town since she was born. She lived with her mother and father. Her father joined the Marines when she was nine. He died when she was eighteen. Then she told me about how she went through a dark time. She started hanging around the wrong crowd and she dated the wrong guy. But, thanks to her mother she got through it. She decided to make something of herself. She went to college and got a degree in psychology. She worked and helped people who has been through traumatic experiences until her mother died two years ago. She quit her job for a little while and went on her 'adventure' as she called it. She had decided to go back to work a few days ago, but she would still hunt.

"That is hard to balance." I told. Sam and I learned the hard way every time. I wonder when we will remember that lesson.

"I know. But I am willing to try." She sounded confident. "So what is your story?" She asked.

I started to cough.

"What?" I mumbled, my throat sore.

"What's your story? How did you get here? Alone in the middle of nowhere, clearly sick."

"I would rather not tell you my life story right now if you don't mind." I said.

"Not at all." She smiled.

I really like her and not in the whole 'I can get laid' way, just in the 'she is a great friend' way. She was pretty, witty, confident, and overall very nice. That was pretty rare in hunters and given her story. I expected her to be hard and cold. I wonder how she deals. How could she be so happy after everything that has happened?

"Um. I just got really sick and there is no hope. I didn't want my brother to sit by me and watch me die." I told her honestly.

"What is wrong if you don't mind me asking?"

"Um. This is not comforting, but I don't know." I said slightly embarrassed.

"You're right." She laughed. "Do you think it could be something supernatural?" She asked more seriously.

"If so, I haven't found anything." I grumbled.

"Oh. What are the symptoms?" She asked.

"I ache all over, I cough a lot, I get sick, I have a fever, and sometimes I get dizzy. I took medicine before I left. They work for the most part." I say.

"Do they now?" She said. "Well we still have about twenty minutes?"

"Okay." I whispered. I fell asleep quickly, more tired than I thought I was.

I ended up waking up coughing and feeling hot.

"I guess that means it's time to take your medicine." She said.

"I guess." I started to feel sick. "Pull over."

"Got it." And she did.

I got out and sat with my head in my hands. I don't really want to throw up right now. I felt a hand on my back rubbing in circles. I breathed in slowly. I soon felt a little better.

"Better?" She asked.

"Not by much." I said.

"Well, let's take that medicine. It's in your duffel bag?"

"Yeah. First thing you'll see." I said.

She went and got my meds, then came back. She handed me the bottle. I unscrewed the lid and took the pills. I took all four types. I drank some water, then just closed my eyes and leaned back.

"You okay?" She asked.

"Yeah. Just tired." I whispered. I hated being so tired.

"I bet. Come on. Almost there."

She helped me into the passenger seat. We drove the remaining five minutes in silence. I just laid my head on the window and thought about Sam. Where was he? How worried was he? Was he taking care of himself? I doubted it. He would look forever until he found me. I just wondered if I would be dead or alive. What would happen to him after I died?

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt Brenda touch my shoulder and ask what was wrong.

"I am just worried about my brother, Sammy," I said simply.

She comforted me until we got to her house.

"This is it," She declared. "My humble abode."

It was a pretty decent house. It was two stories and it had a wraparound porch. In the front lawn was a tree with a tire dangling from a limb. It reminded me of the house in the movies. This is what Sam wanted. Also I could tell no one had attended to it while she was gone. The grass was overgrown and I saw the remains of a garden.

We walked in and the inside was pretty amazing also. There was old classic furniture and beautiful paintings. Everything looked pretty awesome. Only one thing was wrong. There were layers of dust covering everything.

"Yeah. Dusty," She said as if she was reading my mind.

"Still awesome."

"Yeah. My mother liked buying old furniture and fixing it," She told me.

We walked up the stairs and she showed me around. She showed me the guest room.

"Um. I couldn't. I could just find a motel."

"No. I hate motels. They are an awful place. I told you either you could stay here or I will find you a place. As in, a decent house to rent. If you would rather stay somewhere else there is a beautiful house two streets over," She told me firmly.

"Fine. Where is this house?"

She drove me to the house. It was another two story house. It was white with a jade green roof and jade green shutters. The grass was freshly mowed and there were flowers. I was surprised that there wasn't a white picket fence.

"What do you think?" She asked.

"It's okay. A little much." I told her.

"Oh. You hunters. It's perfect."

She showed me the inside. It was pretty modest. There was just a couch and a recliner with an old TV. The kitchen was small with simple stuff. There was a small bathroom and a medium sized bedroom and a small laundry room.

"What do you think?" She asked.

"It's great, but I can't afford it." I told her.

"How do you know?" She asked. "I will talk to the realtor."

She did. It was surprisingly low. I found out later that she had paid some of it for me. It was a nice town. She told everyone about me. At least I didn't have to have a fake name. She had told them I was pretty sick. Rumors spread that I could die.

I started to have a routine of sorts when I felt well enough. I would go to a coffee shop down the street. I would order a black coffee and I would sit with this nice old lady who happened to be my neighbor.

I would go to my house and I would tidy up the house. Next, I would go outside and do some yard work until I got too weak. I would take a shower and relax. I would eat lunch. Then, I would go over to my neighbor's, Mrs. Bea. We would talk about things we have been through. I knew it was not a good idea, but I told her my job. She didn't seem too surprised. She told me that she was a superstitious person and it actually gave her comfort to know that she wasn't crazy. It was nice to talk to someone. I told her about my father, Sammy, Cas, and other people. I would eat dinner and then for dessert she would give me a piece of pie.

That was the good part I guess. The bad part was I was getting worse. I got sick more often, my throat hurt all the time, and I got dizzy more. My body hurts most of the time. I coughed more. My fever sometimes got so bad that I was bedridden.

Brenda would visit me often. We would talk about what we have been up to. She told me about how everyone had asked about me. They wondered if I was okay, what brought me here, what did I do before I got here, and other things. People would leave things on my doorstep. Things like food, medicine, and cards.

I started to get even worse. I started to lose a lot of weight and have very bad headaches. It was harder to get around and to leave the house. Brenda started to help. She would make me food and tidy around my house.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Okay."

"Dean. I am worried. I don't know how to help you. I don't know…" She looked upset for the first time since I met her.

"It's okay," I told her quietly.

A little later, I found a German Shepherd and took him in. He was hurt and very skinny. I stitched him up and I fed him. I named him Ace. He was a pretty awesome dog. He was rather nice considering he was abused.

Soon I started to feel my bones getting cold. I would also cough up blood. Sometimes I would sit around and read. After a while, I noticed that I was having trouble seeing the words on the page. I had to get glasses, which made me feel embarrassed. Soon I had lost so much weight that my hair started to look dull and unhealthy. I knew that it could start to fall out so I cut my hair very short. Also, I started to get hurt easily. I got bruises and scrapes. Once I actually fell down and I broke my wrist.

Around that time my fever went up too. I felt terrible. I got really sick. I threw up, my headache got worse, and my pain went up a lot. Brenda would check on me. I coughed up more blood. It lasted about three days this time. It was getting longer every time.

"How do you feel better?" Brenda asked me.

"I still feel weak and dizzy, but overall yeah," I told.

"Really?" She said.

"I do have a pretty bad headache."

Pretty bad didn't cover it. It was agonizing. So bad that I went to bed early that night, though I doubted I would get much sleep.

I woke up and I decided that I could eat. I knew that I would most likely throw it up, but I had to try. I carefully got out of bed and slowly went down the stairs. I walked into the kitchen and the room started to spin. I shook it off and went to the cabinet. I reached up and grabbed the glass. I started to get super dizzy and everything went black.