"So this demon we're tracking..."

"His name is Alastair," Ruby told Sam as they rolled into Defiance, Ohio. "He's a big shot. Hasn't been topside in nearly a millenia. He's much more powerful than anything you've taken on before."

"But you think I can handle him."

"By the time we find him, sure."

Ruby had two goals in their hunt for Alastair. His arrival on Earth provided a unique opportunity to pit Sam against someone who approached Lilith's caliber. She had been nourishing her protege with tastes of her blood for three days now and she could see the change in him already. Sam was invigorated, pulsing with demonic vitality. Even so, he was hesitant and filled with guilt. If he could banish, or better yet, destroy hell's master of torture, Ruby was certain it would be enough to convince him that his actions were justified.

The second goal was personal. Ruby had spent hundreds of years in hell and some of her worst memories were forged at Alastair's twisted hands. She couldn't help the savage desire to get even with her old tormentor.

"A thousand years is a long time," Sam said out of the blue, startling Ruby out of her thoughts of vengeance. "Why is he here now?"

Ruby had wondered as much herself.

"He finally saved up enough paid leave for a vacation," she snarked. "What do I look like, his travel agent? All I know is, he's here. What for doesn't really matter."

Sam frowned, but held his tongue. They had tracked the demon here following more than simple omens. A pastor and his wife had been murdered only days before, gruesomely. Ruby insisted the demon was the only case in town, but Sam's instincts told him this was something deeper than demonic shore leave.

"I think we should talk to the daughter," he said.

"What for? We already went over her statement. She wasn't there when her parents were killed, she doesn't know anything," Ruby insisted.

"I just…"

"Look, Sam, I know you think there's something bigger going on here, but I'm telling you, it's just a demon getting his kicks from torturing the locals to death."

"I just don't want any nasty surprises," Sam explained.

"Alastair's a nasty piece of work," Ruby said, her expression betraying her hatred. "I'd brace myself if I were you. This isn't going to be an easy hunt. I need you focused, ok?"

Sam didn't respond, but Ruby didn't give up.

"Sam, tell me you understand," Ruby pressed. "We're walking into a seriously dangerous situation. Distractions could get us both killed, or worse."

"I got it," Sam conceded.

"Great."

"... So, here I am."

Dean finished up his story and drained his glass of orange juice. Since his resurrection, food tasted different. Every bite was the best he'd ever eaten, every drink was bliss. He wondered if it would feel that way for the rest of his life or if it would eventually fade.

"Well, you sure haven't been bored since you got back," Bobby commented. "From the sound of it, your last three days were more exciting than my last month."

"You're telling me."

"So this Vera character. You're sure you never worked with her before?"

"Pretty sure. There was something about her I couldn't put my finger on though..."

"I'll say. Here's what I'd like to know; How'd she know you were alive again? Hell, how'd she know where to find you?"

"I didn't think to ask."

Bobby gave him a condescending look.

"Hey, I had a lot on my mind," Dean quickly defended himself.

"Right. So what are you going to do about Danny?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

"You don't have that many options."

"I know."

Dean paused, glancing absently out the diner window at the trunk where the shapeshifter was still imprisoned.

"What would you do, Bobby?" he asked.

"Me? Hard to say. I think I'd be less worried about the shapeshifter and more worried about the ride along it comes with."

"What do you mean?"

Bobby fixed him with a strange look.

"What do you mean, 'what do I mean'? The baby, you idjit. I'd be more hung up on what to do about the baby than the shapeshifting son of a bitch carrying it."

"Why? They're both monsters," Dean asked, puzzled.

"You don't know that."

Dean frowned and Bobby sighed.

"Of course you need me to spell it out for you... that child's half human, Dean. Now I'm no expert, but far as I figure, it's fifty-fifty whether it decides to take after you or Alice. I mean, Danny. I mean... hell, you know what I mean."

Dean was silent for a long time as the implications of Bobby's words sunk in.

"Fifty-fifty, huh?" Dean mused darkly, suddenly unable to tear his gaze away from the trunk.

"At the end of the day, I guess it's your call," Bobby said. He shrugged, but beneath the gesture, Dean could tell he was disturbed by the dilemma. "If you think Danny's really so dangerous that he needs to be put down ASAP, then that's that... or..."

"Or what? Keep him around til...?"

The proposal creeped Dean out so much he couldn't bring himself to give it voice right away.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Bobby demanded.

"Let me see if I've got this straight. You want me to what, lock him up until he gives birth, take the baby and kill him after?"

"Well gee, when you put it like that it sounds a lot less compassionate than it's meant to be," Bobby admitted. "Look son, it's your choice, like I said. But you need to ask yourself where your lines are. And personally, I'd draw mine at killing a baby."

The unsaid hung heavy in the air between them, poisoning it with solemnity. Dean knew what Bobby really wanted to say. He would draw the line at killing his own baby. He just didn't want to come across as harsh.

For a brief instant, a life flashed before Dean's eyes. Something fluttered deep in his gut as he pictured himself holding a newborn. The strange sensation worked it's way up to his throat as he helplessly imagined raising a kid. Teaching them everything he knew, disciplining them, comforting them. He almost choked as the feeling reached his throat. Suddenly, he was filled with an all-consuming fear and something close to revulsion. He cleared his throat as quietly as he could and swallowed his emotions.

"Bobby, I can't- I'm not a father," he managed.

"No one said you had to be," Bobby pointed out. "Just because you don't kill it doesn't mean you have to raise it."

Silence fell between them. Both of their appetites were gone and their food slowly grew cold while they both stared out the window, each lost in deep contemplation. The reverie was interrupted by the waitress asking if they were ready for the check.

"Take a night," Bobby told Dean as he left the tip. "Sleep on it. I'll leave you some silver in case you decide to... you know. But if you go the other way, give me a call. We'll come up with a way forward."

"Right. And you'll let me know if Sam turns up."

"Of course."

"Thanks Bobby."

Despite Ruby's insistence that the demon was the only case in town, Sam kept finding his attention drawn back to the girl.

Anna Milton was fifteen years old. She had been in and out of therapy her entire life and days before her parents murder, she had been committed to a psychiatric ward.

"Look, if we're gonna find this demon, shouldn't we start by figuring out why it went after the Miltons?" Sam asked.

Ruby heaved a massive sigh from across the motel room. She dropped a bowl and a candle back into her bag. Her first thought had been to suss out Alastair's location with a spell, but she'd been having no luck. He was too powerful to locate that way without running the risk of drawing his attention.

"I hate to say it, but you may be right," she admitted. "I don't know what you think the girl can tell us that we don't already know though. She wasn't even there when Alastair came after her parents."

"Right now she's the only lead we've got," Sam pointed out.

"Right. So how do you want to do this?"

Sam dug through his bag and pulled out a fake badge.

"Private investigators?" Ruby asked cynically. "You don't want to go with something with a little more clout?"

"Like what? There's no reason for the FBI to be looking into this one," Sam explained. "Local police already talked to the kid. This is the next best option."

Rub rolled her eyes and took the badge from him.

"Tell me this at least means we don't have to jump in a pair of cheap suits," she begged.

"You can wear whatever you want. Me, I'm sticking with the suit."

"Why, because you just can't get enough of the scratchy fabric?"

"Because psychologically speaking, suits make people feel like you're a figure of authority," Sam replied smartly. "It makes the job easier."

"Ok, professor," Ruby scoffed. "Psychologically speaking, smartasses get depressed in shotgun anyway, so I guess I better take that burden off your hands."

"What?" Sam frowned.

"You're driving, genius."

An hour later, Sam peered through a small glass observation pane in the door of Anna Milton's room at the psych ward. Inside the pristine white walls, the girl seemed to glow softly as she gazed absently out the barred window.

"Who did you say hired you again?" the presiding psychiatrist asked. She had seemed skeptical of their story from the minute she laid eyes on them and Sam was starting to wish he'd taken Ruby's advice and used badges with a little more clout, as she put it.

"The late Mr. Milton's brother," Sam repeated for her benefit.

"Look," the psychiatrist began. Sam's heart sank to his heels when he heard her tone. "Anna's mental state was precarious at best before this whole ordeal began... I was even reluctant to allow the police to interview her without a subpoena."

"Look, Dr. Pinsky," Sam appealed desperately. "I understand Anna's condition, but-"

"I'm not sure you do," Dr. Pinksy snapped at him. "Anna's schizophrenia subjected her to paranoid delusions. How do you think having both your parents brutally murdered affects a child in that state?"

Sam had no reply. Ruby looked impatient behind the doctor. She glanced surreptitiously up and down the hall, counting orderlies and shrinks making their rounds.

"Any information you need, you can get from the statement Anna gave the police," Dr. Pinsky said firmly. Sam knew that she wouldn't be swayed.

"Dr. Pinsky," Ruby finally spoke. She had let Sam do most of the talking since their arrival. "Do you mind if I have a word with you in private?"

"What about?"

"If I wanted my partner to know that, I wouldn't need the word to be in private," Ruby pointed out.

Pinsky pursed her lips, but nodded curtly and turned to lead Ruby down the hall. Before Sam could ask what Ruby was doing, she brushed past him. He felt her slip something into his pocket in passing.

"Text me when you're done. I'll meet you at the car," she told him under her breath. She followed Pinsky down the hall. Sam waited until they were out of sight to check his pocket. With a chuckle, he realized it was a keychain. He wondered if Ruby had stickier fingers than he did or if she had taken advantage of her demonic nature to secure the keys. Either way, he was grateful. Whatever could be said about Ruby's nature, they made a great team.

He waited until no one was looking and slipped quietly into Anna's room. She didn't seem to notice his entrance. She was scribbling intently on a notepad, head cocked to the side like she was listening to someone only she could hear. Sam thought she looked like she was taking dictation.

"Miss Milton?" Sam said. He spoke softly, trying not to startle her.

Giant green eyes snapped up to meet his. Her gaze reminded Sam of a deer caught in the headlights, frozen with panic that had yet to fully manifest in her expression. Sam waited for her to speak, but she said nothing and he realized she was waiting on him.

"I'm here about your parents," he began. "I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Oh."

Anna seemed to relax, sadness spreading over her delicate features as she glanced back down to her notepad.

"Thank you. I guess."

"Is it ok if I sit?" he asked, gesturing to a chair at a table in the corner of the room. Anna nodded minutely, writing something in her notes before refocusing her attention on him.

"I understand this is a very difficult time for you," Sam said softly. Anna didn't meet his gaze. Instead, she played with the id tag on her wrist. "I just have a few questions and then I'll be out of your hair."

"It's fine," Anna sighed. "I keep telling everyone, I'm fine."

Sam doubted she was, but he kept it to himself. Kids dealt with trauma differently than adults. Sometimes the most comforting lie they could tell themselves was that nothing was wrong. He knew from personal experience that at Anna's age, if you told yourself you were fine for long enough, it started to feel true.

"Are you another cop?" she asked.

"Something like that."

"So what is it you want to know? I already told you guys everything. No one wanted to hurt the Miltons. They were both good people. There was no good reason for them to die like that."

The way she phrased it struck Sam as off.

"'The Miltons'?" he asked.

"My parents."

Sam was starting to get the feeling that Anna wasn't as torn up about her parents deaths as she should be. Still, he hesitated to read into it. It could just be a coping mechanism.

"Right. No, I, uh... I read your statement. I didn't come here to go over any of that again."

"Then what did you come here for?"

Anna's words took on a slightly sharp tone, almost like impatience. Like she was busy and Sam was annoying her by keeping her from what she really wanted to be doing.

"I just wanted to ask if anything strange happened in the weeks leading up to..."

Sam trailed off. He didn't know how many times he could bring up what had happened before Anna fell to pieces over it.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"You came here..."

She gestured around the pristine white room.

"... To ask me..."

She pointed to herself, clad entirely in white cotton and barefoot on the bed.

"... If 'anything strange happened'? What kind of detective are you anyway?"

She sounded incredibly amused.

"An open-minded one," Sam replied.

"Right."

Anna grew quiet for a long moment, once again cocking her head to the side like she was listening to a conversation Sam had been excluded from. She scrawled a quick note in her pad and Sam couldn't keep his eyes from following her pencil.

"What is that you're writing?" he asked.

"Nothing," Anna sighed. "Diary of a basket case, I guess."

"Is it private?" Sam pressed.

"Not at all. See, I'm in here 'cause I started hearing voices. Dr. Pinsky thought it would help her help me if I wrote down what I hear so she can psychoanalyze my delusions in our sessions."

She examined Sam's expression. To his surprise, she offered him her notepad.

"Go on. I can see you're curious. What's one more set of eyes?"

Unable to deny that she was right, Sam accepted the notepad and started leafing through it. Immediately, he pegged it as mostly gibberish.

"When did the voices start?" he asked. He couldn't discount the possibility that Anna's voices were part of the case, even if her writing did seem wacky.

The stars require little curation, Thadeus, read one line. The dates outside Madina aren't what they used to be, read another.

"Four days ago," Anna answered.

Do you suppose the fish ever get jealous of their land-dwelling cousins? Sam read. He skipped a few pages and saw something that captured his attention.

This generation of hunters have so little faith.

"Anna, what does this mean?" he asked, flipping the notepad and pointing out the line. She shrugged.

"I don't know what any of it means," she said. "I just hear it."

"You don't have any idea where it's coming from?" Sam asked, scrutinizing the scribbling with renewed interest. The phrases were disjointed. They sounded like bits and pieces from conversations, sentences taken out of context.

"What?" Anna asked, confused.

"The voices. Do you have any idea what they could be?"

I feel that we should be watching less and intervening more. With each passing day, the number of demons crawling their way out of hell increases.

"No one... no one's ever asked me that before," she said, gaping at him in disbelief. "Do you... do you not think I'm just crazy?"

"I mean... Look, I'm no psychiatrist," Sam admitted. "But you seem awfully sane for a crazy person. You know? And I've seen some pretty insane stuff in my life. Enough to make me think there might be more going on here than a sudden onset of schizophrenia."

"Either that or you're crazier than I am," Anna said, drawing back into herself nervously.

"Well I... I..."

Sam stopped, doing a double take as his eyes slid over a phrase.

I do not understand why Winchester is still able to see me.

"Anna... what's this?" he asked, showing her the pad again.

"I told you, I don't-"

Anna cut off when she realized which line he was pointing to.

"Oh, that... I don't know, exactly, but..."

"But?"

"Well, I hear that name a lot," she explained. "More than anything else."

"Winchester?" Sam demanded.

"Yeah. As a matter of fact, it was the first thing I ever heard."

"What did you hear? Do you remember?"

"Clear as a bell. Don't know how I could ever forget. 'Dean Winchester is saved'."

Sam's shock must have shown on his face. Anna grew jumpier, edging away from him. He realized he was gripping the notepad so hard his hand was shaking.

"What is it?" Anna asked, fear tinging her words.

"What else have you heard about Dean Winchester?" Sam demanded, a little louder than he intended.

"Nothing! I mean, nothing that makes any sense!" Anna said, cringing away from him further. "Why does it matter?"

"I'm sorry!" Sam said quickly, realizing he had spooked her. "I'm sorry, I just-"

His heart pounded while his mind raced, struggling to understand what Anna Milton's voices could possibly have to do with his brother. There was no way in hell this was a coincidence. Dean's name alone was too specific and the phrase Anna claimed to have heard...

Sam had to know more.

"Anna, how would you like to get out of here?" he asked.

Bobby pulled into his driveway just in time to find a stranger knocking at his door. It was a woman with bob-cut black hair and piercing blue eyes. She turned when she heard his engine and met him halfway through the yard.

"Mr. Singer?"

"The one and only," Bobby replied, remembering Dean's description of the hunter that might be looking for him. Vera with no known last name. Dark hair, dark clothes, bright eyes. This woman certainly fit the description. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for someone. A friend of yours. Actually... what I have to say may come as a shock to you. Do you have somewhere we could sit?"

Bobby had no doubt she was looking for Dean. He thought quickly, trying to decide how best to play the situation.

"Sure," he said before the pause could become awkward. "You take a beer, miss...?"

"Call me Kim," she replied. "I sure as hell won't turn one down."

She followed him into the house.

"So who is it you're looking for, Kim?" Bobby asked.

"An old hunting buddy of mine," 'Kim' replied. At this point, Bobby was assuming that this was actually Vera. "Sam Winchester."

Her response took him by surprise, but he didn't let it show.

"You don't say. Well, that makes two of us," Bobby said as he opened his fridge and pulled out a pair of beers. "I haven't heard from the kid in months."

"Me neither. It's starting to worry me, honestly," Vera replied.

"You two close?"

"We have a long history. I was closer with his brother, actually. Which brings me to the news I wanted to share with you."

"Well don't keep me in suspense."

"You might wanna take a seat," Vera suggested.

They both sat at Bobby's kitchen table and cracked open their beers. Before Vera could tell Bobby this news that she thought he needed to sit down for, she choked on her beer.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, unable to help herself.

Bobby raised his eyebrows at her.

"Didn't take you for a beer snob," he noted with interest.

"I'm not," she assured him, examining the brew. "I guess it's just been too long since I had one."

She took another experimental sip, only to grimace and set the beer aside.

"Maybe long enough that I've lost the taste for it," she said.

"Uh-huh."

Bobby sipped his beer thoughtfully. Most everything in his kitchen was laced with holy water. A precaution he'd learned from his old mentor Rufus Turner. For a second, he wondered if Vera was something less than human, but quickly dismissed the thought. If she were a demon, she would have damn near jumped through the roof, not choked a little and shrugged it off.

"So, did you have me sit in case I fell asleep waiting for you to tell me this news of yours?" Bobby joked, eliciting a small smile from Vera.

"That wasn't the plan. No, uh… actually, it's about Dean Winchester. He's back."

Vera watched Bobby's face closely while he took a moment to absorb the news.

"But you already knew that," she realized.

Bobby considered lying to her, but decided against it. Vera was sharp enough that she would see through an outright lie. Instead, he opted to tell a half-truth.

"I had my suspicions," he admitted. "Someone called me a few days ago claiming to be Dean… I didn't believe them at the time, but… well, all signs point to it having been more than a prank."

"And you haven't heard from him since?"

"No."

Vera was looking distinctly green around the gills.

"You ok there?" Bobby asked.

"I'm fine. Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" Vera asked.

"Not at all. Down the hall, second door on the left," Bobby replied.

"Appreciate it."

As soon as Vera was out of earshot, Bobby wandered out the kitchen door and called Dean. After a few rings, it went to voicemail.

"Dean, call me later. Someone's here looking for you and Sam. I'm pretty sure it's that hunter you say you ditched in Valley Springs. You were right too, there's something off about her. I just can't quite put my finger on what."

Bobby hung up quickly and retook his place at the table, grateful to find that Vera wasn't yet back from the washroom.

Vera stumbled as soon as she was out of Bobby's sight. She rushed to the bathroom, gagging on the beer that was disagreeing with her so violently. She barely made it in time, retching as quietly as possible into Bobby Singer's toilet. Her vomit was streaked with black and the room was filled with a rotten stench that she knew only too well from her experience as a hunter.

"What the…"

She gasped for breath, rinsing her mouth out at the sink in an attempt to remove the taste of sulphur. She took one more look at the mess in the toilet, highly disturbed by the spots of black slime that sat oil-like on the surface of the water.

Rattled, she flushed away the evidence, though of what, she couldn't say. She straightened, fixed her clothes and ran her fingers through her hair before heading back into the kitchen. Bobby was waiting for her patiently, seemingly unaware of her distress.

"I won't keep you long," Vera said, pulling a card out of her jacket. She handed it to Bobby. "Could you call me if you hear anything from the Winchesters? I just want to know they're ok, you know?"

"Sure," Bobby said, carefully stoic as he walked her to the door. Still, there was one more thing he couldn't help but ask. "You know, you just seem so darn familiar, Kim. Have we crossed paths before?"

"Don't think so," Vera lied. "I get that a lot though. Guess I've just got one of those faces."

"Right. Well be careful out there."

She smiled as she got in her car. The bright, shiny red struck Bobby as being a bit too ostentatious for a hunter.

"Not in this lifetime," she replied. "But thanks for the sentiment."