As far as nightmares went, Zoe prided herself in being able to control her dreams. Nightmares were rare, and if they did happen, they were minor or completely insignificant. It helped that Gabriel often used her dreams as TV land and manipulated the scenes at whim.

This night it was the girl. She had lunged forward, knife raised and Dean nowhere in sight.

She woke gasping for air. There was a faint twinge in her stomach, where the girl would have stabbed her. She ignored it.

Sam and Dean had dropped her off at Bobby's place before heading off to Iowa. Dean had found a victim who had died of ten stab wounds without a tear in his shirt, and was eager to check it out. After the Gibson case, Zoe wanted to sleep. The boys didn't question it, and Bobby kept her busy with answering phones for hunters.

Jason never called her again. It wouldn't have worked out anyway.

She sat on the couch again, reading A Midsummer Night's Dream. Snow was beginning to fall outside, though not enough to be played with. About halfway through the first scene, Dean called.

"Ghostbusters, what'd'ya want?"

"You busy?" Dean asked, not bothering to greet her.

"I'm reading Shakespeare," Zoe said, "Does that count?"

"Pack your bags," Dean answered, "We'll be there by morning."

Well someone was in a bitchy mood.

"Nice talking to you too, Winchester," she muttered after Dean hung up.

With a huff, she walked up to her room and began to pack her belongings into it. Sketchbook. Notebook. Clothes. Gun. Knife.

Before the brothers arrived, Bobby had her go on an errand run to restock. As she went down the list, checking everything in the cart, the sheriff bumped in to her.

"Evening," Jody greeted, currently in civilian clothes, "Everything all right?"

Zoe shrugged, "Been better. Been worse."

"Everything all right at home?" Jody asked.

"Yep," Zoe nodded, "Going on a road trip with some friends tomorrow."

They had both now reached the third aisle and Zoe began placing her food on the conveyor belt.

Jody nodded, impressed, "Where are you all going?"

"Don't know yet," Zoe admitted, "wherever the road takes us, I guess."

"Well you take good care of yourself," Jody said, "Keep an eye out for danger, all right?"

"Yes ma'am," the teenager promised.

She paid and left the store. Yes. She liked Jody Mills when she trusted you. Often times Jody invited her over for dinner where Zoe had gotten acquainted with Mr. Mills. Mr. Mills was the kind of man that just made friends everywhere. He was too friendly and nice to hold a grudge against.

Store bought Rotisserie chicken was dinner that night, ignoring Bobby's look of shock as she almost poured the entire bottle of hot sauce on the chicken. Well, it wasn't her fault she was used to much more spicy foods. Dean couldn't take in the smell of chili sauce when she was making it, and Sam's face when he ate hot sauce was absolutely priceless.

She was living the good life and she loved every minute of it.

…

"You want me TO WHAT?!"

It was a good thing that they weren't a lot of people or else Zoe's shout would have turned heads.

They wanted her to go back to high school. Zoe had do a lot of things for the Winchesters, but this was easily on the never to do list. She did not spend four years struggling and stressed out back home just to go back again. No screw the Winchesters to hell and back.

"Please," Sam pleaded, "It's just for a few days. Two weeks at most."

"Yeah," Dean agreed as he searched Bobby's fridge for pie, "Besides, aren't you always complaining we don't take you anywhere?"

"Don't bring logic into this," Zoe said and sighed, "Fine. I'll go."

It was going to come back and bite her. She could feel it…or maybe that was just her getting used to no glasses after years of wearing glasses. The Winchesters still thought Castiel did it, and Zoe wasn't going to tell them otherwise. She still caught herself pushing back the nonexistent glasses.

But back to the matter at hand.

High School. Hell on earth.

The boys have even gone ahead and gotten her enrolled in the school. Zoe decided not to ask where they got the documents considered she didn't even exist in this universe. Probably that guy Frank from season 7.

Truman High school, home of the Bombers, and located in lovely Fairfax, Indiana. Public School, well, haunted public school, with its soon to be graduating class to be over three hundred students. Three stories high, filled with hormonal teenagers, testosterone, and cafeteria food.

She could already taste the regret and food poisoning.

The principal wanted an interview, and so Zoe found herself sitting with Dean in some relatively comfortable chairs while Dr. Olson reviewed their files. Sam of course was meeting with whoever was in charge of the cleaning staff. Dean and Zoe Roth. She wrinkled her nose at the name.

They were posing as a family, wherein Dean was the teacher, Sam the janitor, and Zoe the cousin. Ironic considering Dean was canonically a high school drop-out and Sam was the Stanford kid.

Dr. Olson was a man in his late fifties, African American, and quite possibly the mellowest person that she had ever met. This could have something to do with the fact that most of the people in her company hardly qualified as calm. He shook their hands and welcomed them into the school, giving them two folders which would hold their survival kit.

Dean got his lesson plan and what PE usually entailed. Zoe got her schedule (she had taken a placement test a few hours earlier) and the student handbook. The three of them left the school with building anticipation for what Monday would entail. Zoe thanked her stars that they arrived on midday Friday.

It gave her more time to bemoan the loss of her freedom and her next week as a high school student. If one of those little 'bottom feeders,' as her sister called them, so much as bumped her, bodies were going to fall.

…

Monday could not have come any faster. Had it been any other day, Zoe would have been excited, but this was Monday, and not just any Monday. No. Today was First Day of School Monday, otherwise known as A Day in Hell. Zoe was a normal human being who's memories of High School where still fresh. The same, however, could to be said of the Winchesters.

Sam had gone ahead, leaving Zoe and Dean in the hallways while students moved around them.

"If anyone gives you any trouble," Dean said, "You tell Sam or me, alright?"

What? Where they her parents now?

"Yes, Dad," she rolled her eyes, "Do I get my privileges removed if I get a bad grade, too?"

"Smartass," Dean said, slightly ruffling her hair, "Now go. Shoo. Find your class."

Zoe saluted, heading to her homeroom first.

"And watch out for boys!" Dean called after her.

She laughed in answer. Mama bear was worried about the wrong kind of gender.

…

Mr. Smith was the most English Englishman to ever English in the history of English. The Union Jack was everywhere. It hung next to the American flag, behind his chair, it was his chair, on his desk, his computer, and his socks. He drank tea that he deemed real tea, because apparently American tea was not real tea. How he could tell the difference was beyond his students.

He was also her homeroom teacher and History teacher.

For a man who lived and breathed England, he was a very nice man, never failing to make his students laugh. It should be noted that Mr. Smith was the kind of teacher that you would feel you failed if you so much as got a C on your quiz.

"Good Morning," he greeted, "You must be our newest member. Zoe, is it? Would you like to say something to the class? No? Well you can take a seat anywhere you'd like."

Feeling slightly less intimidated by Mr. Smith, Zoe took the only empty seat near the window. For once, she felt lucky to have been born short. It meant the boys had to buy her clothes since she couldn't fit into theirs. That didn't stop her from stealing Dean's t-shirts though.

Just act natural. Act as if you belong even though you really don't.

Initial announcements. Pledge of Allegiance, Free time.

God. She'd forgotten how much she hated Free Time.

"Hey."

Her head snapped up from her study of the desk engravings. It was a couple of girls, neither here nor there. Average mostly.

"Yeah?" Zoe asked, keeping herself from outright cringing away from her.

"Where you from?" the short haired blonde asked.

"Sioux Falls," Zoe said automatically.

"South Dakota?" The other girl, the dirty blonde asked, "Why'd you move to Indiana?"

To that Zoe gave a small shrug, "My cousin landed a job here, and since he's basically my guardian, I have to tag along."

"Who's your cousin?" Blonde asked.

"Sub PE teacher," Zoe said.

The two girls nodded impressed, "Nice. I'm Jaime," the blonde said motioning to herself and then to her friend, "This is Kate."

"Zoe," she said shaking their hands, "So anything I should know about during my stay at Truman?"

Apparently there was a lot Zoe needed to know. The school was a public school, which meant the caste system was very different from what Zoe was used to. She had grown up in a nice charter school where everyone knew everyone.

Truman was the complete opposite. The cafeteria was divided into sections, with predetermined seating. Seniors ate with the freshmen, which meant that it was the senior's job to teach the fish the lay of the land. According to Kate and Jaime, the social hierarchy was as followed:

The Royal Court

The King and Queen sit together. They are usually surrounded by the royal court. The royals always sat nearest to the buffet. The football team had first dibs on the good food. You could not argue with this. Many have tried and only those who have an excuse/are not intimidated by the football players are deemed worthy to join them. The Cheerleaders were included in this circle. That said, regardless of how one looks, once they are a cheerleader, they are forever protected from all dangers.

Then came the knights. These usually consisted of people who were pretty darn popular, but not to the same level as the Royal Court. They sat on the table to the right of the Royals, and are often considered a part of the Court. They aren't actually and consist of the rich snobs that no one likes and refuses to associate with.

Now, the Royal Court were usually nice people. Often if one is not on their bad side, they will be treated as a human being. The knights usually want to be part of the Court, but are not able to. At least half the cheerleaders play for the same team. The only male cheerleader is considered an outlier and has the football team as his body guards. You cannot insult the male cheerleader. You will die.

The Commoners.

Theater kids. The theater kids are not something that should be taken lightly. They are up to par with the Royal Court. They are the Hamlets, Macbeths, Romeos, and Juliets. Sometimes before a performance, they will rehearse in the cafeteria. These were the kind of people you want if you need to advertise something.

And then there were the cliques. The cliques include the bands of tomorrow, the nerds, the classic rockers, the geeks, and the nerds.

The Outcasts.

The Outcasts are people who thrive in the dark. They run the black markets of the school, and at least half have been arrested before. No one likes them, but they always have the good stuff. These are the people you go to if you need something.

The loners usually sat a little ways away from the Outcasts. They kept to themselves, and no one bothered them. They were the meat. The herbivores in a world of predators. Usually by senior year they had all formed their own groups, or joined other cliques.

And then there were the freshmen. Usually by this time of year, the freshmen had already learned to navigate the social hierarchy, and set up their own versions. But there were always those freshmen who believed they could get away with their rebellious teenager stage. No one associated with them. Not even the outcasts.

...

There was more of course, but at this point Zoe's memory bank had reached its limits. Kate and Jaime assured her that she'd get the hang of it quickly. They walked her to class, pointing out which teachers were the nicest, which were the worst, and were Lucifer incarnate. Mr. Smith was part of the nice group. He and the 9th grade English teacher, Mr. Wyatt were considered the best teachers in the entire school.

Her first class of the day was Math. Unfortunately Zoe was considered to be on par with higher level math, which meant calculus. Zoe hated calculus. She cursed her school and its great teaching for her predicament. Mr. Ulric sat her at the table entirely populated by the football team.

"So Matt's parents are having a party," one of them said.

Zoe raised a disinterested eyebrow, more focused on trying to figure out whatever the hell Mr. Ulric was talking about.

"So?" she asked.

"Everyone is going," Matt, or who Zoe assumed Matt to be, said, "And since you're knew, figured you might want to get to know who the cool kids are. Get to know everyone better."

Zoe gave him a small smile, "I'll think about it."

A small folded up paper was pushed towards her, holding an address and a phone number. Typical high school students. Zoe wondered if this was considered harassment or just typical flirted among teenage soccer players. Either one made her gag.

History was next, which meant this, at least, was going to be an interesting class. Mr. Smith's class had already reached WWI and discussed Pearl Harbor. Today was debate day, which meant that Zoe did not have to participate if she didn't want to. Jaime was in her class, and at her insistence joined her group. Naturally they won, and earned ten points on their next test.

Then came her creative writing class. The teacher was Mr. Wyatt, and upon seeing him, Zoe remembered one small detail. This was an episode, which meant this was a case. She greeted Mr. Wyatt warmly, shaking his hand like the professional student she was. As she was a new student, he gave her a short story to write to be turned in at the end of the week. No wonder Sam liked this teacher. Like Mr. Smith, Mr. Wyatt took genuine interest in what his students had to say and what they wanted.

And finally, came lunch. Somehow Kate and Jaime tracked her down and dragged her over to their own table, with six other occupants.

"Guys," Jaime said, "This is Zoe. Zoe these are Walt," the football player waved, "Jim and Tim," the twins playing the card game lifted two fingers in greeting, "And Danny." Danny, the one wearing the hoodie, didn't look up from his book until Walt covered said book with his hand.

Perhaps it was how welcoming they were, or the fact that that they shared similar characteristics, but by the end of lunch, Zoe felt like one of them. Hell, for a moment she hoped the boys would take forever on the case.

Unfortunately luck was not on her side. Immediately after lunch, everyone was ushered into the auditorium. Zoe caught a glimpse of an ambulance outside along with some police officers.

Dean found her quickly enough, and gave her a once over, "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," Zoe assured, "What happened?"

"Kid stuffed another guy's hand into a Cuisinart," Dean said, "Also, not a demon. Definitely a spirit."

Yes. Definitely a case. She remembered this scene.

Zoe looked around and found her friends had already found themselves a seat. Not one to be left behind, she motioned for Jaime to save her a seat.

"Have you found anything yet?" Dean asked.

Zoe shook her head, "It's an episode if that helps, but just a filler. Not really a plot driver."

"I'll see if I can get us out of here early," Dean promised, "Do a little more research."

…

So that's why she tuned out most of the speeches in school assemblies. Most of what the professor said turned out to be so stereotypical that Zoe could have played speech bingo.

According to Danny, the football player was a complete jerk. His attacker, though, they didn't know much about the attacker, except he was one of the quieter students. Usually kept to himself. Part of the outcasts, well, the ones with the better grades. Fortunately for Zoe, Dean also got tired of the assembly and motioned for her to follow him out.

They found Sam waiting outside.

"How's the nonviolence assembly going?" he asked, following them outside.

"Apparently," Dean said, "shoving a kid's arm into a Cuisinart is not a 'healthy display of anger.' So, the kid had ectoplasm leaking out his ear?"

"As boring as hell," Zoe groaned.

"Which only comes from a seriously pissed-off spirit," Sam said, "It's got to be ghost possession."

"Yeah, but that's pretty rare," Dean pointed out.

Zoe scoffed. These boys dealt with crazy all the time. They'll be fighting Lucifer this time next year.

"Yeah, but it happens," Sam pointed out, "I mean, they get angry enough, they can take control of a person's body."

"All right, so, what?" Dean said, "We got a ghost in the building?"

"Yeah, but where?" Sam asked, "I mean, there's no EMF. Maybe we could find out who it is, at least. You know, check and see if somebody died bloody around here or something."

"Way ahead of you," Dean pulled out some files, "I had to break into the principal's office to get this. Oh, and FYI, three of the cheerleaders are legal. Guess which ones."

Zoe resisted the urge to kick him in the shin, while Sam gave him the annoyed bitchface.

Dean took out a folded article, "So, there was only one death on campus. It was a suicide back in '98. Some kid named Barry Cook… What?"

Sam had a strange expression on his face, "I knew him. How did he die?"

Oh.

Poor guy. Zoe definitely remembered Barry. He was a nice kid.

Dean scanned the article before answering, "He slit his wrists in the first-floor girls' bathroom."

She frowned, "Isn't that where-?"

"Right where the chick got swirled to death, exactly," Dean nodded, "So, what? This ghost is possessing nerds?"

"And using them to go after bullies," Sam finished with a sigh.

"Well, does that sound like Barry's M.O.?" Zoe asked.

She hated it when she couldn't remember specific details from the case.

"Barry had a hard time," Sam answered.

They walked in silence, leaving Sam to mourn the loss of one of the few friends he's had.

The diner across the road from the motel was having a special on steaks, and Zoe was not one to turn down steaks.

It was a quiet day, figuring out where Barry was buried, loading the guns just in case, wondering how a nice kid became a vengeful ghost. And Zoe just couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something missing. Something important.

That night the three of them left towards the graveyard. After a few hours of digging, after which Zoe felt her arms where going to fall off, they reached the coffin.

It smelled.

She'd forgotten the smell of decaying bodies, and twenty years was not helping the stench. If anything, it made things worse.

When the body was salted and burned, still she couldn't shake off that feeling.

Dean struck a match and dropped it into the coffin.

The flames erupted almost instantly, illuminating the area with a warm orange glow. Zoe glanced at Sam, studying his expression.

"So long, Barry Cook," Dean said.

Sam was silent through the entire ride back. After they had finished packing up the materials, he had stared into the dying fire for a while longer. The ride back was quiet, not tense. It was more of a somber, mourning quiet. Zoe blamed Sam for it.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Barry was my friend," Sam confessed, "I just burned his bones."

And decomposed skin, but you know, details.

"Well, he's at peace now, Sam," Dean said.

Sam didn't believe him, "I mean, if Dad had let us stay just a little while longer, maybe I could have helped the kid, you know?"

Zoe was silent. The Winchesters rarely talked about their father, and as much as Zoe would want to hear stories about them, she didn't push them.

"You read the coroner's report same as me," Dean assured, "Barry was on every anxiety drug and antidepressant known to man. School was hell for that kid. His parents had split up. He just wanted out. It was tragic, but it's not your fault. To tell you the truth, I'm glad we got out of that town. I hated that school."

If anything, Zoe understood Barry. Hell, she'd lost count of how many times she herself had had break downs because of school.

"It wasn't all bad," Sam said.

Dean huffed in disbelief, "How can you say that after what happened to you?"

Sam glanced at him, but said nothing. Zoe, however, was curious.

"What happened?" she asked.

Dean glanced at Sam before sighing, "Some asshole thought it'd be a good idea to pick on Sam, but Sam got him back, didn't you?"

Sam gave him a smile before returning to his original stance of staring out the window.

….

Zoe yawned from the backseat, having only gotten three hours of sleep before the boys so rudely woke her up. How she got to the Impala without falling asleep on the dirty motel floor, she didn't know. Probably Sam. She had a vague memory of holding on to someone's hand.

She hoped it wasn't the old lady who thought Sam was a guy named Charles.

"We came back here so you could talk to a teacher?"

Dean was talking again. She should shush him.

"He's a good guy," Sam argued.

She should shush the both of them.

"Well, whatever," Dean said with a shrug, "Go have your Robin Williams "O captain! My captain!" moment. Just make it quick."

Zoe curled up in the back seat and slept. The gnawing feeling hadn't gone away, but she ignored it. All she wanted right now was to go back to sweet and blissful sleep.

But the universe decided that now was the perfect time to reveal the source of the gnawing feeling.

How you ask? Well, Sam Winchester walking towards the impala, holding his shoulder isn't something that happens on a regular basis…then again these are the Winchesters.

They stopped a little ways from the school, near some farmland. Zoe took a sip of her water, and continued to write. She'd promised Mr. Wyatt she'd still e-mail him the story, regardless of whether or not he was her teacher. This story was about two brothers who traveled the road hunting monsters.

She turned her attention to the brothers, where Dean had just finished patching Sam up and handed him a beer. Sam regarded the beer before taking a sip.

"That ghost is dead," Dean promised, "I'm gonna rip its lungs out! Well, you know what I mean."

Ah. Her favorite line from Dean Winchester. Ripping people's lungs out.

"It knew my name, Dean," Sam replied, "My real name. We burned Barry's bones. What the hell?"

"Well, maybe it wasn't Barry," Zoe offered.

"Maybe we missed something," Dean agreed, "We just got to go back…" he trailed off as he checked the file, "No way. How did we not see this before?"

"What?" Sam and Zoe chorused.

"Check it out," Dean turned the file so they could see, "Look, Martha Dump truck, Revenge of the Nerds, and Hello Kitty - they rode the same bus."

Oh…oh! She remembered this part!

Wait…where the boys talking?

"Well, that would explain why there's no EMF at the school, but not the attacks," Dean pointed out, "I mean, ghosts are tied to the places that they haunt. They can't just bail."

Zoe sipped her water quietly, switching her gaze between them.

"Unless this one can. Dean, there's lore about spirits possessing people and riding them for miles, then whenever they leave the body, they're bungeed back to their usual haunt. But until then, the ghosts can go wherever they want."

What was the kid's name? Lucifer's blessing, she needed a name.

"So a spook just grabs a kid on the bus," Dean said, "and walks right into Truman?"

"It's possible," Sam said.

"Ghosts getting creative," Dean took a swig of his beer, "well, that's super."

Zoe wondered if writing about their small ghost encounter would seem interesting.

"What do you think?"

Her head snapped up towards Dean who had spoken, and blinked. What did she think? Well, Dean-o, there were many answers to that.

"It's an episode, so most likely a ghost," Zoe yawned, "Can I go back to sleep now? I'm tired."

Dean didn't answer, so Zoe returned to her seat on the impala. She was asleep before her head hit her makeshift pillow.

…

The boys left her asleep on the Impala while they checked the school bus and talked to the driver later on. She didn't even bother going to school feeling too tired to do it. She doubted the school would've been happy about it, but at this point, she didn't care. Whatever the school threw at her, she could deal with it. Zoe was fast asleep, vowing to wring the neck of whatever person decides to wake her up next.

Not that it stopped Gabriel from showing up because really, who can stop Gabriel from showing up

"Can't I dream in peace?" she asked.

Gabriel shrugged, "I'm just popping in to see how you're doing, kiddo."

"Tired," she said, "Was up digging up graves. My arms are killing me, and the Impala isn't helping matters."

Gabriel considered this and nodded, "And the two stooges?"

"Talking to this McGregor guy," Zoe said "I think he was the dad of the kid who bullied Sam during his time at Truman."

"And the Jason kid?"

Zoe shrugged, "Didn't work out. Who knows, might find myself a girl or guy or something. Might be single for the rest of my life. Eh, I've been worse."

"Kid," Gabriel began, "You'll be fine. So this Jason guy wasn't your 'meant to be'. Still more fish out in the sea."

Zoe shrugged, "Eh, whoever comes, Gabriel. I'm not a fisherman…or fisherwoman."

"Might pop in to say hi to ol' Jason," the archangel said aloud.

"Don't you dare Gabriel," Zoe said, "You leave that poor man alone."

"Just a little prank," Gabriel defended, "Won't even know it was me."

"Gabriel."

He sighed, "Fine. Only because you said so."

"So death by rabbit it is then."

"Gabriel no."

"Gabriel yes."

….

Zoe yawned, tapping her finger impatiently against the Impala's windowsill. The boys were waiting for the bus to drive by where they hoped to catch Dirk. They made Zoe come, for some reason or another.

She made sure to complain the entire way.

They didn't have to wait for the bus to appear and drive over the road spikes. Thankfully it didn't tip over, but the bus driver did come out. Zoe exchanged a look with the Winchesters who nodded and approached, guns at the ready.

"Dirk!"

The bus driver turned and sneered, "Winchester. What are you gonna do, shoot me?"

With the ghost distracted, Zoe climbed into the bus and began searching. A lock of hair. Sam said that's what was tying the ghost here, but where was it?

"Hey, aren't you that new kid?" one of the boys asked.

"Sure," Zoe said, rifling through some papers.

Dean stuck his head into the bus, and addressed the team, "All right, everybody stay where you are. You'll be okay."

"Aren't you the P.E. Teacher?" the same guy asked.

"Not really. I'm like "21 Jump Street," Dean admitted, "The bus driver sells pot. Yeah."

"It's not here," Zoe said showing him the glove compartment and the empty bible.

She and Dean walked out just in time to see the bus driver collapse. She took Dean's shotgun and stuck to Sam's side. A student walked out, going straight to Sam. Zoe fired and miss, cursing she reloaded and kept her gun trained on the ghost.

"Not one more step," she said.

"Nice gun, shorty," Dirk sneered, "Didn't your parents ever tell you, you shouldn't play with guns?"

Zoe said nothing and cocked it, "I mean it buddy. I will shoot you."

Dirk sneered and bared his chest, "bring it sweetheart."

Sam took this opportunity to punch him, knocking down the rather large football player. He got up of course, angrier than ever, but then he screamed. The two hunters turned to see Dean set fire to a lock of hair, and Dirk dissolve into sparks and smoke. His host fell to the ground unconscious.

…

Zoe slept through the entirety of the drive to the next motel. The boys completely passed out the minute their heads hit the pillow. Being the smallest, she got the couch, and unfortunately, it felt like she was sleeping on concrete. The floor would have made a better mattress.

Sometime in the night, Zoe woke up to someone moving around. Sam. Frowning, she propped herself up to see him put on a jacket and slip on some shoes.

"Sam?" she asked, "Where are you going?"

The taller of the Winchesters jumped slightly at her voice, but didn't answer. Not that he needed to. His face was all Zoe needed to know before she sighed.

"Sammy" she said, "You can't trust her."

"I need to," Sam said, "Just…just don't tell Dean."

"You know I won't, Sam," she assured, "But please."

He smiled softly, before exiting the room, closing the door behind him. The teenager sighed, and lay back down.

Sam was going to get in big trouble once Dean found out.

All she had to do was make sure Dean didn't find out, and stop Sam.

How does one keep something from the Winchesters?

Fuck.