"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam—he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you."

"I bet you're real proud of your kids, too, huh? Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted 'em." Dean heard himself scream loudly as he felt his chest being shredded.

"Dean! No!"

"Dad! Dad, don't you let it kill me!" Dean screamed louder, invisible claws ripping through skin and muscle.

"Dean! No!"

Dean gave a loud shout as he sat bolt upright, panting. He paused for a moment then felt the cool breeze on bare skin. He frantically looked down, expecting to see his chest in ribbons. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he saw nothing out of the ordinary—not even a single scar. He ran his hands over his torso to check, but there was no indication of the wounds the demon had caused.

"What the hell?" he muttered softly. The last thing he remembered (and even that was really fuzzy) was being in the back of the Impala, barely conscious, then a loud sound followed by darkness. As he looked around, he saw the stacks of books and hideous wallpaper, and quickly realized he was in Bobby's living room, but he had no memory of how he even got there. He paused, wondering if he was actually still alive, then his gaze fell on the unfamiliar young woman sound asleep in one of Bobby's chairs nearby. Her blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore jeans, a black tank top, and boots; a gray t-shirt and long sleeved dark blue shirt were draped over the back of the chair. Her slender and toned figure indicated she was in excellent shape—a shape Dean clearly appreciated.

"Damn, that's a fine ass," he muttered, smiling.

"And if you mention it again," she mumbled, "I'll kick yours."

Dean's smile slowly faded as Alicia opened her eyes, giving him a slightly annoyed expression. Dean gave a small, nervous chuckle, then quickly composed himself. "Should've known," he muttered. "If I'm dead, this is Hell."

Alicia yawned and stretched. "Close," she replied.

"Purgatory?" Dean guessed.

"Worse," Alicia replied, amused. "You're actually still alive." Dean furrowed his eyebrows as he watched her get up and walk over. "How're you feeling, Dean?"

"Uh, confused as hell," Dean answered slowly as she sat on the coffee table, facing him. "How do you know me? Who the hell are you? Where's my brother and dad?"

"They're both resting upstairs; their injuries weren't life-threatening. Yours, on the other hand, were a little more serious, and even though I stabilized you at the crash site, I didn't—" She stopped when she saw Dean just staring at her like she had two heads; she sighed, chuckling. "Sorry, getting a little ahead of myself. Let me rewind a bit and start over. First, my name is Alicia Singer. I know who you are, because Bobby is my uncle. I was coming to see him last night when I saw the wreckage. I came to investigate, but before I could help you I had to deal with the demon who t-boned you—piece of cake—then I was able to tend to you and your family before Bobby and I brought you guys here. Sam and John were able to rest in their rooms upstairs, but I didn't want to risk moving you more than necessary, so I've been taking care of you down here on the couch all night to make sure you didn't die."

Dean raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "So, you're saying the crash happened last night?"

"You don't believe me."

"Sorry, sweetheart," Dean said as he swung his legs around, facing her. "It's a nice story, but there's a few things not adding up."

Alicia raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" she asked, folded her arms. "Please enlighten me."

"Well, first, no one has the ability to heal wounds like that in less than one night," Dean replied. He gave her a pointed look as he tilted his head. "No human, I mean."

"One can if they have a combination of strong healing herbs at their disposal," Alicia replied undeterred, "along with a potent healing spell." She saw Dean's expression stay the same. "Look, you're more than welcome to use holy water if it'll make you feel better. Bobby keeps plenty stashed around the place, but," she stood up and walked over to the middle of the room, "we both know he'll be pissed if you waste it, so I'll do you one better." She looked up, and Dean followed her gaze to see the Devil's Trap on the ceiling. The young man shifted uncomfortably as he remembered Meg's exorcism from the previous day. He quickly averted his eyes downward–and saw Alicia standing right under the trap. Without saying a word, she walked out, unfazed, and returned to her spot at the coffee table. "I'm not a demon. I just happen to be good at healing people."

Dean stared at her, trying but unable to hide his shock. "Bobby never mentioned he had any relatives," he said lamely after a few moments.

"Because it was none of your damn business, you idjit." Both Dean and Alicia looked over to see Bobby coming down the stairs, followed by both Sam and John. All three of them had changed into different clothes, and both Winchesters moved a little stiffly, but they appeared in much better condition than the previous night, no trace of their injuries showing. Dean's expression changed to relief as he quickly got to his feet and crossed the room to meet his father and brother. The three hugged each other, talking amongst themselves; Alicia looked over at her uncle as he watched from the bottom of the stairs; he gave her a brief nod of approval, and she smiled slightly.

"You okay, bro?" Dean asked, hugging his brother.

"Yeah, you?" Sam asked, returning the hug.

"It's gonna take a lot more than some demon to take me out." Dean and Sam pulled away, and Dean turned to John. "How's your leg, Dad?"

"I'm fine," John replied in an almost dismissive manner. Sam and Dean opened their mouths, but John stopped them. "I said I was fine. Now, since we're better, we need to get on the road."

"Don't you think we should rest a little more?" Sam suggested. "I mean, we kinda went through the wringer last night."

"The longer we stay put," John said, "the better the chance that demon slips through our fingers again."

"Dad, Sam's right," Dean said. "Like it or not, we had our asses handed to us last night, remember? He possessed you, nearly killed me, you got shot, and then we were t-boned by a semi on our way—" He suddenly stopped, his eyes widening. "My baby." He looks at Sam with a panicky expression. "Where's my baby? Please tell me she's—"

"Don't worry, Dean," Bobby interrupted. "Got her towed back when we dragged your asses back here. She's in the yard."

"How bad is she?" Dean asked worriedly.

"Totaled," Alicia spoke up, and everyone looked over, "but repairable." Their expressions—as if they'd forgotten she was even there—almost made her laugh. She settled for a smile and gave a small wave. "Yeah, I'm still here."

"And what the hell is her deal?" Dean continued, looking at Bobby as he jerked his thumb in Alicia's direction. Bobby just stared at him, his jaw set, but kept quiet. "Come on, Bobby. For as long as we've known you, you told us you had no living relatives. Now this chick shows up, saying she's your niece, and the only thing you've been telling us is how it's none of our business. What gives?"

"I could tell them," Alicia offered.

"You hold your tongue, girl," Bobby warned, pointing a finger at her.

"Fine," Alicia replied, folding her arms. She narrowed her eyes. "Then maybe John can explain." She kept her gaze locked with her uncle's, unfazed by the anger in his eyes, as Sam and Dean both looked at their father, stunned.

"Dad," Sam said slowly, "what's she talking about?" He stared at his father for a few seconds, watching his father's jaw set in frustration as the elder Winchester remained silent. Sam shook his head slightly in disbelief. "You already know about her."

John glanced at Bobby, who looked less than pleased, but he sighed and motioned his hand as he walked over to his desk, muttering under his breath, and sat down. John motioned for his sons to sit, and they glanced at each other briefly before taking the two chairs on the other side of the desk. "Since nineteen ninety," he explained as he walked over to the couch and sat down, wincing slightly. "Same year I met Bobby."

"Yeah, I remember," Dean replied. "You told us you ran into each other investigating a shapeshifter in Grand Rapids. Was that a lie?"

"That was the truth," John replied. "What I didn't tell you was that I also met his brother, Mark," he glanced briefly at Alicia, "and his eight-year-old daughter."

"He also tried to kill me," Alicia added.

"Oh, good lord," Bobby muttered, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Why did you try to kill her?" Dean asked his father, incredulous.

"Because I tried to kill him first," Alicia answered matter-of-factly. "I was eight, and it was my first hunt where they let me come with them instead of staying at the motel. We were all in this creepy old warehouse, tracking the shapeshifter, then John just showed up out of nowhere. I thought he was the shapeshifter, so I went on the defense. Unfortunately, it backfired, and Dad, Bobby, and I ended up getting blasted into a wall. When the room finally stopped spinning, I was facing down the barrel of John's shotgun. Thankfully, before he could pull the trigger, Bobby and my father convinced him that wouldn't be a good idea by putting their guns to his head."

Dean chuckled. "Well, I can see why you left out those details, Dad," he replied sarcastically, his smile fading quickly. "I sure as hell wouldn't want people knowing I got my ass handed to me after trying to kill a little girl either."

"Well, in all fairness," Alicia said, "I did try blowing him up, like this." She did a quick motion with her hand, and one of Bobby's stacks of books suddenly exploded. All four men shouted loudly and ducked, covering their heads as books flew in all directions.

"Dammit, Allie!" Bobby shouted as he shot up from his chair. "How many times have I told you not to blast things in the house?!" He marched around the room to pick up the scattered books and began stacking them in their original spot.

"Sorry," Alicia replied sheepishly, then she glanced at the brothers, who just stared at her in shock as they gripped the arms of their chairs, panting. She cleared her throat nervously.

"What the hell was that?" Dean slowly asked.

"It's what I am," Alicia replied quietly. "That's why John tried to kill me, and it's how I was able to heal you so quickly." She took a deep breath before her irises glowed purple and she snapped her fingers. A purple flame the size of a baseball instantly appeared over her hand, hovering in the air. After a few seconds, she snapped again, and the flame disappeared instantly as her eyes returned to their normal blue. She glanced uneasily at the brothers.

"You're a witch," Sam said softly as the realization hit him. Alicia nodded slowly, and Sam tilted his head as he stared at her, slightly awed, then he paused before furrowing his eyebrows as he turned to his father, confused. "So, why didn't you kill her?"

"Excuse me?" Alicia asked defensively.

"Sam," Dean chided his brother.

"I'm sorry," Sam said to the young woman as she tried masking a hurt expression, "but our Dad's hunted several witches over the years—and he's never left any of them alive."

"He's actually got a point," Dean agreed.

John chuckled mirthlessly. "You two are actually mad I didn't kill a little girl?" he asked.

"No, sir," Dean replied. "We just want to know why she's different."

"Because of this," Alicia answered as she stood up and turned around. Dean and Sam raised their eyebrows as she lifted the back of her tank top up halfway. Tattooed onto the skin of her lower back was a black, palm-sized pentagram encircled by a ring of flames.

Dean leaned forward, curious, trying very hard not to get distracted. "Is that—"

"An anti-possession sigil," Sam finished, a little confused. He glanced at his brother, who was grinning appreciatively at the young woman's back. Sam rolled his eyes and quickly smacked his brother's arm, glaring at him. Dean glared back, but then Bobby walked by and backhanded him on his head. Sam stifled a laugh as Dean winced and rubbed his head, glaring at Bobby as Alicia turned around, lowering her shirt. "Uh, I don't get it. We've seen that before. It prevents a demon from possessing someone."

"Not just any demon, Sam," Bobby replied somberly. "One in particular." Any residual humor disappeared as the brothers sat up, their attention completely focused. They glanced at each other with a look of similar unease.

"Which one?" Dead asked, even though he was pretty sure what the answer was going to be.

"I think you know exactly who, Dean," John answered. "The same yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch who killed your mother."

(End of Chapter 2)