"Oh, yes, we're expecting you."

Dean and Sam both straightened, suddenly rather concerned. The receptionist continued to smile brightly, not noticing their unease. She motioned down the hallway towards the morgue where they had been heading to. As part of Dean's plan to keep Sam on the straight and narrow, and away from Lucifier, they had taken a few lowkey, run-of-the-mill cases. A girl had been attacked by an animal, which was usually standard reporting for 'we have no idea what happened', and more often than not led to something more supernatural.

The receptionist expecting them, though, was rather out of the ordinary and had taken both of them by surprise.

"The morgue is the second on the right," she continued as is both brothers hadn't both fallen into panic mode. "Your colleague is in there waiting."

"Um, thanks," Sam said as they both headed down the way she'd indicated.

"What are you thinking? Actual Feds?" Dean asked his little brother.

"For an animal attack?" Sam countered; his voice also low. "Another hunter, maybe?" Dean nodded. It did seem more likely, and also probably a little better for them. Running into actual agents could become quite sticky very quickly. "Why would they be expecting us, though?"

"Maybe they're just covering their ass, just in case someone turned up?" Dean offered. Neither of them was convinced, though.

"Do we still go in?" Sam asked.

"There still might be a case," Dean reasoned. "We've done this a hundred times before. We'll scope them out then decide whether or not it's our thing. You know, the job?"

They stepped into the morgue, where the doctor was stood at the freezers, showing the other agent the body of a teenager. The doctor looked up at the door opened, whereas the agent looked over her shoulder at them.

"There you are," Amelia said, a look of challenge on her face, daring either of them to say something. She knew they couldn't blow their cover, which was why she'd headed straight to the morgue instead of hunting them down herself. "I thought you'd gotten lost."

"Good day, gentlemen," the doctor greeted. "You're just in time. I was just about to show Agent Bonham my findings."

"Amber Freer was thought to have been clawed to death," Amelia explained to them. "The good doctor here says it's something much more bizarre."

The brothers walked over, one standing on either side of her. She could barely suppress the smirk that wanted to force its way onto her face at the smug feeling that she had managed to surprise them.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"When they brought her in, we thought she attacked by a wolf or something," the doctor explained.

"Or something," Dean murmured, grimacing at the claw marks on the teenager's head. That wasn't just an animal attack, but nothing immediately sprang to mind as he looked at the markings that were left behind.

"But we were wrong," the doctor continued. He picked up a small plastic bag and showed it to the trio.

"That's a press-on nail," Amelia said in disbelief.

"We found it in her temporal lobe," the doctor replied.

"Is that even possible?" Sam asked. The way the doctor looked back at him suggested that it really wasn't something he'd come across before.

"Wait, are you—you saying that she did this to herself?" Dean asked, brows furrowed. He'd heard of a lot of things in his time, but nothing like that.

"Uh-huh. She scratched her brains out. It'd take hours, and it'd hurt like hell, but sure—it's possible."

"But why?" Amelia asked.

"Pick your acronym—OCD, PCP. It all spells crazy," the doctor replied. Dean checked the girl's hand and, as expected, there were press-on nails still attached to everything finger but one. "My guess, some kind of phantom itch. I mean, an extreme case, but..."

"Phantom itch?" Sam asked.

"Yup." The doctor covered the girl's head back up, sliding her back into the freezer. "All it takes is someone talking about an itch—or thinking about one, even—and suddenly you can't stop scratching."

Amelia offered him a solemn nod. "Thank you for your time," she said.

"Well, if you find out what happened, let me know," the doctor replied. "This is stranger than anything I have ever seen."

The trio walked out together, Sam still on one side of Amelia and Dean on the other. The receptionist shot them a smile and both Amelia and Dean smiled back.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Could you not?" he asked his brother, who shrugged.

"Can I help it if I'm adorable?" he countered.

"She wasn't smiling at you," Amelia retorted with a grin. She pulled out a small piece of scrap paper. "She was smiling at me."

She'd hit it off rather quickly with the receptionist who, whilst they were waiting for the pathologist, had been rather open about her new fiancé and their two-year-old. The number she'd pulled out of her pocket was just a piece of scrap paper, but she just wanted to mess around with him.

Dean, not too happy overall, paused as they reached the parking lot. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"Looking for you, jackass," she snapped back. "I thought you'd 'gone past me'?"

Dean looked away for a moment, still acting rather defensive. "We had?"

"Oh yeah? Then how did I get here first in that piece of junk?" She pointed to the rather worst-for-wear Escort that her Uncle Bobby had given her the keys to. It wasn't falling apart, the engine was pretty sound, but the outside needed a bit of loving. It had been the best available, though, and she'd been too angry to care. She then pointed at Dean. "You're avoiding me and I'm going to get the bottom of it," she promised. "I'm not an idiot, Winchester."

"I'm not- Why would I—" Dean stuttered out before realising that she wasn't going to back down so easily. "Fine. Let's head to the house she was babysitting at."

"Good idea." She grinned, leaning in slightly closer. "I'll follow."

As she walked away from them towards her Ford, Sam turned to his brother. "I told you she wouldn't buy it," he gloated.

"Shut up," Dean snapped. "Come on."

"She's right as well," Sam continued, opening the passenger door on the Impala. "You're avoiding her. I just don't understand why."

Neither of them seemed to get the fact that he wasn't avoiding her, nor the fact he didn't want to talk about it. "I'm not avoiding her. You two were always too damn sensitive." He climbed into the driver's seat. "We've just got back into hunting together, Sam. Don't you think we need a little more time to adjust before bringing in anyone else?"

"Then why don't you just tell her that?" Sam countered. "If you don't want her tagging along, then just tell her. She'll understand."

Dean sighed heavily. "I'm not avoiding anyone," he snapped, putting the car into gear before driving off. "And she doesn't just tag along. She's family too."

"Then why are you acting so strange?"

Dean glanced in his rear-view mirror. Behind them Amelia was following in her beat-up Ford and he already had the urge to speed up and pull away so she couldn't follow. She should have been at home with Bobby. There was no way she was alright with seeing that wheelchair, he sure as hell wasn't.

They all needed time to regroup. That was all. Why was everyone making such a big fucking deal about it?

~0~0~0~

The family where Amber had been babysitting were, obviously, rather upset and disturbed over what had happened when they'd gone out for the night. Amelia sat with the mother and father on the couch whilst Sam asked them the typical questions – cold spots, strange smells, looking for anything that may make the cause of death much easier to identify. Amelia both loved and hated this part of the job. She loved solving the mystery, and she hated all the death.

Dean, on the other hand, scoped the lounge. He didn't spot anything out of the ordinary until he spotted little Jimmy hiding in the hallway. He knew the look on his face well; that was one guilty kid.

"Nothing there suggests anything supernatural," Amelia commented as they left the house and headed towards their respective cars.

"Except this," Dean replied, pulling out a packet of itching powder. "Kid said he put this on the babysitter's hairbrush."

"Dean, there's no way itching powder made that girl scratch her brains out. It's just ground-up maple seeds," Sam countered.

"If you've any other theories, I'm open to 'em," Dean replied.

"I mean, it makes sense," Amelia replied as Sam's cell started ringing. "Well, in a nonsensical kind of way. She scratched her brains out and well, it's supposed to make you feel rather itchy. Makes more sense than a random phantom itch."

Dean reached up, once again scratching his ear. He really wished people would stop talking about itching around him. "But itching powder?" he replied. "Sam's right, it's not anything."

Sam hung up. "There's been another death," he told the pair. "At the hospital."

"Someone else scratched their brains out?" Amelia asked. Sam shrugged.

"I don't know. They just said it was just as strange."

Dean and Sam headed to their respective sides of the Impala whilst Amelia walked up to her Ford. She glanced over and saw Dean grinning to himself, thoroughly amused. "Oi, Podge," she called over. "If you're going to keep leaving me behind then I'm going to take the keys off you!"

Immediately Dean's hand tightened around his keys. "No, you won't," he replied.

She smirked. "Yes, I will," she promised, climbing into the driver's seat. She tried turning the key but all the engine gave her was a sputtering noise and nothing else. She growled and tried again as the Impala started without issue, turning and pulling up next to her.

"Do you need help?" Dean teased lightly. She glared at him.

"No, I'm fine," she retorted. "Grew up on a salvage yard, remember, dumbass?"

"Well, we'll just mosey along and see you at the hospital, shall we?"

"Yeah you do that," she grumbled. He wound his window back up and drove away. Amelia climbed out of the car, popping the hood open. She quickly checked the oil and anything else that would have been immediately noticeable. The car really was a hunk of junk. Perhaps she could convince her Uncle to keep something a bit more stylish back for this sort of occasion.

Everything seemed in order on the surface, though, so she hoped it was just a flat battery. Climbing back in she tried again and again to get it to start. The engine turned over a couple of times and she smirked to herself, gloating to Dean silently in her head.

Then, of course, there was almighty bang. Smoke appeared from underneath the hood like some sort of cartoon and something rather heavy hit the road beneath her.

"Balls."

~0~0~0~

Amelia was confused by the giant ham that Sam grabbed out of the back of the Impala. She stood up from the curb outside the motel room, brushing the clothes down. "That seems like a lot of food for just the two of you," she commented.

"Guy got electrocuted," Sam explained. He didn't question how she knew where they were staying, after all he'd been the one to text her the address. "With a hand buzzer."

"You mean one of those stupid toys you get for a dollar?" she asked. He nodded as Dean grabbed a bag out from the back as well.

"Exactly," Sam replied. "This is our test subject."

"Test subject?" she repeated. Dean pulled out the small metal buzzer and she looked at it warily. "Is that the…"

"The same one, yep," Dean replied before grabbing the motel key card out of his pocket. "Where's your ride?" he asked, shooting her a sideways smug look.

"I don't want to talk about it," she replied grumpily. The car had basically been a write-off and, after she'd managed to flirt a lift to the motel from the guy she'd called to come tow it away, she hoped it fell straight into a crusher with no chance of survival. She'd honestly been surprised that it had gotten her as far as it had.

"That's what you get for driving her in a tin can," he teased as he let her into the room.

"No, that's what happens when you avoid me," she countered. "I have to drive a death-trap so I can come kick your ass."

"One; I'm not avoiding you—"

"Bullshit."

"Two; You could never kick my ass, Miller," he finished. She snorted.

"Are you kidding?" she retorted. "You've got four years on me, Winchester. You're practically ancient."

Sam placed the ham rather heavily down on the table. "Children, stop arguing," he said like the responsible adult that he was. "We're not here to fight about who could beat the other up."

Dean nodded. "Right. Let's roast us some hog meat." He reached into the back, pulling out a pair of rubber gloves and some goggles before passing the bag along. Sam took his own goggles out and then handed another pair to Amelia. She tried not to feel happy at the fact that they'd remembered to grab her a pair but she couldn't help it. However, the feeling just annoyed her so it didn't last very long.

"Anyway, Amelia would win," Sam finished, much to Dean's outrage. "You'd pull your punches and she's scrappy when she wants to be."

She grinned, straightening up. "You hear that?" she crowed. "I'm 'scrappy'."

"Piss off, the pair of you," Dean retorted, knowing that Sam was just trying to get under his skin. It didn't help that it was working. "You ready?"

Sam raised his goggles to his eyes and Amelia quickly followed. "Hit it, Mr Wizard," the younger Winchester said.

Dean paused for a moment, bracing himself, before pressing his hand and the joy buzzer down onto the uncooked ham. Immediately the joy buzzer let out a large crackle of electricity and the ham shook as it was electrocuted. Dean's arm shook at the strength of the energy coming from the buzzer and steam rose from the ham until, finally, it was completely charred on the outside.

Dean moved the joy buzzer out of the way before lifting the visor on his goggles. "That'll do pig."

"Holy shit," Amelia breathed. No wonder a man had died from it. Both she and Sam lowered their own goggles before walking over to Dean.

"That crap isn't supposed to work," Sam declared.

Dean nodded. "This thing doesn't even have batteries." He gingerly removed one glove, keeping the buzzer inside for safe keeping, before removing the other. He pulled out his knife.

"So… so, what? Are—are we looking at cursed objects?" Sam asked.

"What else could it be?" Amelia replied as Dean cut off a piece of the ham.

"Maybe there's a powerful witch in town," Dean suggested before taking a bite of the meat. "Is there any link between the, uh, the joy buzzer and the itching powder?"

"Uh, one was made in China, the other Mexico, but they were both bought from the same store," Sam explained. Dean nodded. That seemed the best place to start.

He cut off another piece of ham, munching on it before offering Sam some. His brother didn't seem particularly keen, which he didn't quite understand because it was delicious, so he offered some to Amelia.

It did smell rather nice, so she took the offered slice and took a bite. "Oh my god that's cooked to perfection," she moaned around her mouthful.

Dean nodded. "Right?" he agreed. "Do you think we could…"

"We're not keeping the cursed object, Dean," Sam quickly interjected, knowing exactly where his brother was going with that.

Dean immediately pouted, cutting off some more meat. He handed some to Amelia, who shared his disappointment. "Spoilsport," she grumbled.

Sam shook his head. The pair were just as bad as each other. "Don't act like I'm in the wrong here," he scolded them both. "It's a cursed object, not an actual kitchen tool."

~0~0~0~

Nothing came from their trip to the joke store, except Dean's delight of a whoopee cushion that he immediately bought and planned to use around the motel room. The owner was, very much, into selling his joke and magic items to children but not cursing the things he sold with actual magic.

Which meant they didn't have much to go on. Which meant camping out in the motel until something was reported. One of the hardest parts was having to wait around for something strange to happen before being to do anything else because it meant that someone else may die before then. However, sometimes it was the only option when there were no leads.

Amelia had a plan, though. She wasn't just going to sit in her own motel room alone. She changed into her pyjamas and walked straight into their room, taking a seat on Dean's bed and making herself comfortable.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, walking out of the bathroom having had a shower.

"Watching TV," Amelia replied, picking up the controller from the bedside table. "There must be something good on. Does this dump come with cable?"

Dean chucked the towel he'd been drying his hair with at her. "You have your own room, go use it," he told her.

"Nah, I'm good," she replied with a small challenge in her voice. "Unless you can tell me one good reason why spending time in there is better than here."

Sam kept his mouth shut, but stopped looking into his research so he could watch this. Dean had been acting strange since they had met back up again. At first Sam had thought it was him, but as they addressed those issues, he saw it went further than that. Then he'd started to deflect Amelia's calls and he knew something was up.

"Because it's your room," Dean retorted and Amelia shook her head.

"So? This is your room. It's just as valid a room as mine is," she countered. "Plus, you two are in this room and I don't have to sit there in silence."

Dean rolled his eyes, as if he wasn't going to continue arguing. "Go have a shower or something."

"Already had one," she countered, flicking through the channels. "But thanks for calling me dirty."

"That's my bed," he tried with a bite.

"Never bothered you before," she replied. "So, unless you've got something to say to me, also not a good reason."

He opened his mouth a few times before looking to his younger brother for help. Sam held up his hands briefly to let him know that he was staying out of their… well, it wasn't a fight but Sam still had no idea what it was.

Dean let out a huff of air. "I'm going for a walk," he snapped before grabbing his boots. He didn't even wait to put them one, storming out with them in hand. Amelia watched him go then turned on the bed, pulling her legs up onto it.

"Did I do something?" she asked Sam. "I mean, I've been trying to rack my freakin' brain over this but he was fine when I last saw him. Has he said anything?"

Sam shook his head. "He won't admit that he's even doing anything," he explained. "Everything I say he just denies."

"But you can see it too, yeah?" Amelia asked him. "I'm not just imagining it? He's avoiding me?"

"I've seen him do less for the girls he's brought back to the room," Sam confirmed. "I thought it was just the whole, you know, being back on the road together thing. But now I think it's to do with that vision that Zachariah showed him."

"He told you about that?" she asked, surprised.

"I know that it happened," Sam replied. "And that's about it. He's not exactly been open about it."

"I don't exactly like talking about it, either," she said. "It wasn't a fun time for anyone."

"Wait, you were there too?" Sam asked, shutting the book he was looking through.

Her brows furrowed slightly. "Yeah," she replied. She didn't understand his confusion for a moment. "Did Dean not mention that?"

Sam shook his head. "I didn't even know he was travelling with you," he said. "You had a shared vision?"

"It wasn't a vision. It was- It was like we were actually there. Like reality had been warped around us," she explained. "It was- Not even a name drop?" she pressed. "Not even in passing?" Sam shook his head and she leant back against the headboard again. She felt rather rejected. She didn't understand the avoidance, but just ignoring that she even existed?!

"What happened?" Sam asked. "I really don't know."

She looked over at him. How did she explain their three days in the future? None of it was happy, or heart-warming, or even had a smidgen of hope in it. Her Uncle Bobby was dead. Dean was dead. Cas was dead. Sam was Lucifer's meat suit and she…

She shot up and off the bed. "I know what it is," she told him, hopping on one foot as she slipped her sneaker on before switching to the other. She also made her way to the room door. "I'll," she tripped slightly, "I'll be back in a minute."

She rushed out of the motel room, looking up and down each way on the walkway. She just caught the sight of Dean turning the corner down one way and began chasing after him. "Dean!" she shouted. "Dean, wait!" He stuttered in his step before he disappeared. "Hey! I know you can hear me!" she continued to shout. "Will you just wait a minute?!"

She turned the corner herself and saw him walking off towards the back of the motel. She was sure it was a dead end, which meant that he was just trying to get away from her and he wasn't really paying attention to where he was going at all.

She stopped, panting slightly. "I'm going to become a demon!" she shouted, which caused him to stop and turn around. She jogged up to him, glad to finally have his attention.

"What?" he asked, pretending to be confused. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to become a demon," she repeated. "Or, I'm not going to become a demon. Who knows? Avoiding me isn't exactly going to change that fact either way."

He sighed in frustration. "I'm not avoiding you!"

"Yes, you are!" she exclaimed. "You're avoiding me because you think it will save me from turning into a demon, the same way that you think that joining back up with Sam will stop him from saying yes to Lucifer!"

"I don't know how many times I have to say this," he snapped. "I am not avoiding you! Go back to the room!"

"No!" she snapped back. "Not until you admit that's what you're doing!" He just stared at her, trying to intimidate her into leaving and dropping the subject. "It wasn't even real, Dean!" she exclaimed. "Why are you being a dick about it?"

"I'm being—" he started before he obviously gave into the argument. "You were a fucking demon, Amy!"

"Yes, I was," she retorted. "I was there, Dean. I met her. She called me fat."

He stared incredulously at her. That was her takeaway?

"Does that not bother you at all?" he asked. "Doesn't it seem a little bit messed up?"

"And?"

"How can you be okay with that?" he asked. "How can you be okay with everything we saw?"

She let out a bark of a laugh. "You think I'm alright?" she asked in disbelief. "You know what I see when I close my eyes, Dean? I see Uncle Bobby's wheelchair on the floor. I see Sam looking at us with no Sam left in him! I see you—" She swallowed hard. "I see you with a broken neck. I hear Cas's screams. I'm not okay with any of it."

"Then why are you trying to push this?" he asked.

"Because it wasn't real," she replied. His brows furrowed. "Are you seriously telling me that you've not considered that it was fake?" she asked. "That, in the future, Sam just happens to say 'yes' and I happen to turn to the Dark Side, and Uncle Bobby happens to die and Cas happens to die because of you? Does it not seem a little, I dunno, coincidental that we saw just enough that you would have been convinced to say yes?"

Dean, honestly, hadn't thought about it that way. He'd been so concerned with fixing each of the wrongs he'd experienced that he'd not put them all together.

Still, it wasn't the main issue. "Why are you even here?" he demanded harshly. "I thought you didn't want to be 'Dean Winchester's prisoner' for the rest of your life? I thought you'd want to be at home with Bobby."

She growled in frustration. "I don't want to be your prisoner," she confirmed. "I also am not your prisoner. You do realise the difference, right? The fact that I want to be here suggests that."

"You do realise how ridiculous this is?" he exclaimed. "Whether or not it was real isn't the issue here. It's a possible future. One I'm not prepared to let happen."

"This isn't just your choice, Dean!"

"Actually, yes, it is," he snapped. "When we're done here, we're taking you home. You're going to stay with Bobby, or go back to college, or whatever. But this is it. This little road trip ends here."

Tears built in her eyes. "No," she said softly. "This is just because you're scared."

"It's not," he replied. "I'm tired of being responsible for you. We sort this out, then you're going home."

The words felt awful the moment they came out of his mouth, as did the devastated look on her face. She nodded then, without a word, turned and walked away. He opened his mouth to apologise but as she didn't look over her shoulder, he didn't say a word. He looked around, trying to find the energy to continue walking but it had all disappeared.

She wasn't wrong. He was trying to push her away because of what he'd seen. Not that she'd turned into a demon – she had a point; it did seem all a little coincidental for a three-day trip – but that she would be so willing to give up everything for him. He knew that it may never come down to him asking her to go Dark Side, but he knew the power he had over her. He'd say jump and she'd just say 'how high?'. He couldn't keep losing people, and he'd be damned again before he'd lose Amelia because of something he'd ask of her. He didn't want to drive a wedge between them but, if that's what it took, then he would do it.

Sam looked up when Dean re-entered the room and wasn't surprised when Amelia didn't follow. He'd heard her walk past and had quickly concluded that they'd had a fight and Dean had said something stupid. He didn't comment, though. He watched Dean kick off his shoes before flopping angrily on the bed.

"What?" Dean snapped as he took his anger out on the button on the remote.

Sam held up his hands in surrender before turning back to the book he was ready. "Nothing," he reassured.

"Good," Dean retorted.

~0~0~0~

Amelia paced her room, back and forth, as she tried to push down her sudden need to cry. She did really try to keep the grand displays of emotions to a minimum and she'd cried enough since the apocalypse had started. She didn't want to cry again!

Dean's words cut deep, though. He knew that she'd just had a rather large fight with her uncle for him saying pretty much exactly what he'd just thrown at her. She never wanted to be anyone's 'responsibility'. She just wanted to be part of a family. She'd always felt like she'd been forced into Bobby's life, like a puzzle piece that had been cut into shape rather than the original piece. He loved her, and she loved him greatly, but finding her way in a makeshift family hadn't been easy. She knew she wasn't a Winchester, either.

She paused, hands clenched by her side and her gaze went to her cell on the dresser. It surprised her how much she suddenly wanted to ring Cas. Was it because he was also a bit of an outsider now that Heaven knew he'd rebelled against them? Or was it because she found his awkwardness incredibly endearing.

Either way she didn't resist very long. She picked up her phone and dialled Cas quickly. It took only a few rings for him to answer. "Hello?"

He sounded so confused and she immediately felt a little better. At least some things stayed as she expected. "Hey, Cas. How's it going?" she asked.

"Um… I'm currently in Moringen," he offered. She frowned.

"Where's that?"

"Germany," he replied. "Is everything alright? Are you in danger?"

"No, no, nothing like that," she replied. "We're just—" she glanced at the window, wondering what Dean was doing. "We're just chasing up some monster stuff. You know, same old. I was just… I guess… I didn't mean to bother you while you were busy."

There was a pause. One that, briefly, made her wonder if he'd hung up on her. Just before she pulled the cell away to check the screen he spoke up. "You sound distressed," he commented.

She reached up, wiping the tears from her eyes. "How do you know what my distressed voice sounds like?" she asked, trying to sound teasing. She wasn't sure it worked.

"It is the same voice as the one you used when we were outside your home," he clarified. "I'm becoming quite adept at telling the different tones in voices that portray emotions."

Once again, he sounded a little proud of himself, and she was sure he didn't mean for that to come across at all. And there was something nice about an angel being slightly concerned about her. "Me and Dean had a bit of a fight," she admitted. "Nothing major, it just always upsets me when we're fighting."

"Understandable. You two do share a close bond. It can be upsetting to be at war with your partner."

She sighed. "Look, Cas, I'm going to say this one more time and you're going to listen closely," she instructed firmly. "Me and Dean aren't dating. Me and Dean have never dated. Me and Dean are never going to date. Dean and Sam are like family to me. It's weird. Stop saying it."

"Very well," he replied. "But you are distressed."

"I am," she admitted with a nod. "I'll be fine, though. I just thought I'd give you a call to calm myself down."

"Why is that?"

"Because I like talking to you," she said. "I thought that was obvious. Go on, I'll let you get back to searching Germany."

"Thank you." There was another pause. "I hope this conversation brought you the comfort you wanted."

She smiled to herself. She still felt like crying, but she really did feel better. "It did," she replied. "Thanks, Bright Eyes. Don't forget to drop me a line on time."

"I won't. Goodbye Amy."

"Talk later, Cas." She ended the call before moving to her bed and sitting on the edge. She looked out into the room. Up until being sent to the future by Zachariah, she and Dean had been sharing rooms. Now Sam was back she'd expected to be in her own room from time to time, motel permitting. And yet, as she stared at the wall across from her, she couldn't help but feel a million miles away from both of them.

~0~0~0~

Sam knocked on Amelia's door. "Amelia, come on!" he called. "We've got something!" There was no sound of her moving so he banged again. "Come on! We've got to go to the hospital!"

"I'm coming! Jesus Christ give me a minute!"

Sam turned from the door and to his brother, who had a deep scowl on his face. "I don't know what you said to her, but it's pissed her off."

"I didn't say anything to her," Dean snapped. "Why is everything always my fault?"

The door to the room swung open and Amelia stepped out dressed in her Fed clothes. She gave the two of them a glance over before heading to the back of the Impala. "What's happened?" she asked, obviously only addressing Sam.

"A guy was rushed into hospital with all of his teeth ripped out," he explained as they all climbed into the car. She never fought for the front seat, but Sam couldn't help but feel like it was very deliberate move on her part. She also sat behind him, like she was trying to get to the further part of the car away from Dean.

This was going to be a nightmare.

It was liking have two kids in the car. Except one of the kids was driving the car and the other was pouting in the back. Although, he had to admit, it was nice having a quiet car ride to the hospital. Dean immediately took charge, instructing Sam to interview the poor guy with no teeth, stalking off muttering about investigating the rest of the hospital. Amelia did the same, walking in the other direction.

"Sure," he muttered to himself. "Leave me with all the work."

The guy could barely speak, his lips swollen and bruised, but just as he was informed on the phone, he didn't have a single tooth left. Sam tried not to wince as he talked to him, keeping up his professional appearance, but he still found himself running his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were still there.

He found Dean outside, flirting with a nurse, and he cleared his throat to get his attention. With a nod of his head to the nurse, he came over, nodding into the room where the man was currently resting.

"What's up with Toothless?" he asked. "Cavity creeps get a hold of him?"

"Yeah, close," Sam replied, much to his surprise. "He wrote up a description." He flipped open his notepad. "Five foot ten, three hundred fifty pounds, wings, and a pink tutu. Said it was the tooth fairy." He flipped the book shut again, looking up at Dean's bewildered face.

"So he's obviously whacked out on painkillers," his older brother dismissed.

"Maybe," Sam replied, not convinced. "Whatever it was got past locked doors and windows without triggering the alarm."

Amelia walked over, taking a look at the doctor she walked past with an air of admiration. "Come on," Dean scoffed. "Tooth fairy?"

"The tooth fairy?" Amelia repeated, confused.

"And it left thirty-two quarters underneath his pillow," Sam finished. "One for each tooth."

"Well, I will see your crazy and raise you some," Dean replied, pointing at his brother. "There's a couple of kids upstairs with stomach ulcers—say they got it from mixing Pop Rocks and Coke. Another guy...his face...froze that way."

"What way?"

Dean looked up and down the hallway, making sure that no one was watching, before sticking his fingers in his mouth. He pulled his lips out wide and crossed his eyes, making himself look ridiculous but also pointing out the rather horrifying thing that had happened to the patient he'd see.

He quickly let the face go. "He, uh, held it too long, and it—it stuck. They're flying in a plastic surgeon," he said before working out the kinks in his jaw.

Amelia grimaced, but she wasn't surprised at all. She'd taken a quick spin around the hospital as well, doing her best to stay out of Dean's way until it became apparent that their argument was being drowned out by the sound of the crazy going on in the town.

"There is some freaky shit going on in this hospital," she stated.

"You're telling us," Dean muttered.

"I've just spoken to a woman who's nine months pregnant," she told them. "Stomach like Santa Claus."

"And?" he pressed.

"And she wasn't yesterday," she said. "Yesterday was her wedding day. She and her husband were virgins until last night." Dean pulled a face at the thought and Amelia nodded in agreement. "I know, right?" Sam rolled his eyes. "Anyway, she woke up this morning in a lot of pain. She's four centimetres dilated." She shuddered. "It's just awful."

"So, I mean, if you add all that up…" Sam said, thinking over everything they'd found out. Dean and Amelia looked at him, expecting an answer. He shook his head. "I've got nothing."

"I don't think any of us do," Amelia offered in consolation. They both started down the hall side by side, Dean turning to join them a moment later, a thoughtful look on his face.

"I thought sea-monkeys were real," he declared suddenly.

Sam frowned. "They are. They're brine shrimp."

"No, no, no, I mean like in the ads," Dean corrected. "You know, like the sea-monkey wife cooks the pot roast for the sea-monkey husband, and the sea-monkey kids play with the dog in a sea-monkey castle—real. I mean, I was six, but I believed it."

"And?" Amelia asked. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Point is..." He came to a stop and they huddled up together. "Maybe that's the connection. The tooth fairy, the Pop Rocks and Coke, the joy buzzer that shocks you—they're all lies that kids believe."

Amelia clicked her fingers, pointing at him. "That makes sense," she agreed. "How do you make a baby? When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much..."

"They get married and have a baby," Dean finished.

"That's what people tell kids who are too young to understand how the birds and bees work," she said.

"So, what, they're all coming true now?" Sam asked. "Okay, so whatever's doing this is—is reshaping reality. It has the powers of a god. Or—" He paused, taking a heavy breath in exasperation. "—of a trickster."

"Yeah, with the sense of humour of a nine-year-old," Dean muttered.

Sam just shot him a look. "Or you."

Amelia sniggered as Sam walked off. Dean looked offended, glaring at her. "Your sense of humour isn't any different to mine," he pointed out as they both followed him.

"I have a rather sophisticated sense of humour," she retorted. "You're just a child."

She started following Sam. "Did his face really get stuck that way?" she asked Dean, trying to sound casual instead of being rather intrigued and happy they were talking again. She didn't like fighting with either of them, but especially Dean.

"Yep. Like something out of Beetlejuice," he replied.

"The wind must have changed," she commented. He looked at her, confused. "That's what Uncle Bobby used to say to me, anyway."

"Really?" Dean asked. "Bobby played into all that lying crap?"

She nodded. "Sometimes," she confirmed. "Santa visited me every year. Money was left underneath my pillow. If I pulled a face it'd get stuck that way." She smiled. "Once he tried to convince me that the ice cream van only played music when it was out of ice cream. I didn't believe him and stole his wallet so I could get some."

Dean laughed slightly. "I remember hearing about that," he remembered. "He started stocking ice cream all year round after that."

She smirked proudly. "Yep, that was all me," she declared. "No one gets between me and my desserts."

As they walked out of the hospital they were passed by many different members of staff. One particular doctor, a man not much older than Dean, slowed down slightly as he walked on by. Dean frowned, wondering if he was the reason all the kooky stuff was happening when he caught where his eyeline was heading.

His frown turned to an angry glare. "Keep walking," he snapped. Amelia, who hadn't noticed at all, turned to see the man scurry away. Her eyes widened as she realised that he'd been checking her out and she turned her own glare onto Dean.

"What the hell, man?" she hissed. "He was cute!"

"I thought you only liked angels these days," he retorted grumpily. Her anger didn't fade and she realised the argument was back.

"I like people who aren't dicks to me," she snapped back as they both joined back up with Sam.

"Well, it's not like you're sticking around here much longer anyway," Dean snapped back. With a growl of frustration, she stormed off towards the Impala.

Sam turned to his brother. "Seriously, what is up between you two?" he asked. "You've not been the same since you had that vision Zachariah showed you."

"Nothing is up," Dean said, storming off as well. Sam didn't let him get away, his long legs making it easy to keep up with Dean's quick strides.

"And why didn't you tell me that she saw it too?" he continued to press. "Did you two see something…"

Dean came to a stop. "We did not see the same thing," he insisted. It wasn't a lie, either. They both, it would seem, saw the whole experience incredibly differently. "Drop it, Sam."

"But Dean…"

"No!" he exclaimed. "Drop it!"

Sam sighed and didn't say anything else as he followed his older brother. He knew what Dean was like. He'd hold in all of his feelings and concerns because, he felt, they weren't worth letting out. Now with the apocalypse hanging over their heads he would do everything he could to make sure they just got on with the job rather wasting time talking about what was 'wrong'. Eventually, though, it would come spilling out. He suspected that there would be more fights coming Amelia's way.