A/N: First off, thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter and I'm sorry that I didn't get back to all of you individually. Please review again and I promise I will. Secondly, there are a lot of disclaimers for this chapter. The chapter song is "Fire Woman" by the Cult ('cause Ty's a fire woman and Dean thinks she's to blame, get it?). The lyrics later on in the chapter are (in order of appearance) "Some Kind of Wonderful" by Grand Funk Railroad, "Take It Easy" by the Eagles, and "Crazy Bitch" by Buck Cherry.

Chapter Four: Fire Woman

Wound up, can't sleep, can't do anything right, little honey,
Oh, since I set my eyes on you.
I tell you the truth.
Twistin' like a flame in a slow dance, baby,
You're driving me crazy.
Come on, little honey, come on now!
Fire! Smoke, she is a rising!
Fire! Smoke on the horizon!
Fire! Smoke, she is a rising!
Fire! Smoke stack lightning!
Smoke stack lightning.
Well now...You shake it up, you're to blame, got me swayin' little honey.
My heart's a ball of burnin' flame.
Oh, yes it is.
Trancing like a cat on a hot tin shack,
Lord, have mercy! Come on little sister, come on and shake it!
Fire! Smoke, she is a rising!
Fire! Smoke on the horizon! Yeah.
Fire! Smoke, she is a rising!
Fire! Smoke stack lightning! Lightning!
I was thinkin' what I've been missin'.
I'll tell you truthfully, well.
She's comin' close now.
I can feel her.
She's getting close to me.

Dean managed to stew in his frustration for a little over an hour before he'd had enough of Ty's new attitude. He'd tried to ignore her, focusing on his drink as he sulked at the bar, but she'd made that impossible now.

The problem had started when she'd stepped outside for a breath of fresh air (not a bad idea, he'd figured considering the number of shots she'd had). He'd shot Sam a look and he'd nodded, knowing that silent message had meant that he should keep an eye on her. The two had slipped outside. They'd only been gone for a minute or two when Ty came back in, Sam on her heels.

"Hey!" she'd yelled, drawing everyone's attention, "Who's black Ducati?"

A guy over at the pool tables had raised his hand, looking really confused. Dean's eyes had narrowed when Ty flashed him a brilliant smile and strode over to him. From where he'd been seated, he hadn't been able to hear what she whispered in his ear when she reached his side, but that hardly mattered. The sight of her leaning in close to some crotch-rocket riding moron was enough. The pleased smirk that appeared on the guy's face in response to whatever she said just tipped the scales.

Dean shoved his stool back and climbed to his feet. Sam was at his side, already giving him a look that said he knew what Dean was thinking and that he didn't like it. Dean ignored the expression, like he did almost every time it appeared on his little brother's face. He heard Sam heave a wary sigh as he moved away from him and towards the pool tables, but he ignored him.

When Dean reached Ty and the guy with the motorcycle on the other side of the room, he was just in time to catch the blonde by the arm to prevent her from following the other guy out of the bar.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"Let go, Dean." Ty snapped, glaring at his hand on her arm.

"You know this guy?" Ducati asked, eyeing Dean and sizing him up.

"Unfortunately." Ty said, scowling because Dean had still not let go.

"I'm only gonna say this once," Dean said, leveling Ducati with an even stare over Ty's head that should have told him that Dean was not a person he wanted to mess with, "walk away."

"Fuck you, Dean." Ty growled, annoyed at being talked over.

"No offense, dude, but she doesn't seem too keen on being left alone with you." Ducati replied slowly.

"She's not thinking clearly." Dean deadpanned.

"'Cause I'm thinking for myself?" Ty asked, incredulously, "You are so full of shit!"

"Would you stop talking?" Dean grumbled, "You're not helping. You're pissed at me, I get it. Let's go home and you can yell at me in private."

Ty flashed a smile at Dean that was too much teeth and no feeling, "Get lost, Dean."

With that, Ty twisted until she could slip her arm out of Dean's grip. She seemed to be squirming out of his hold quite a bit lately. Moving closer to Ducati (also known as Ryan), she gently nudged him towards the door again. They began to move away when Dean grabbed Ryan by the collar, yanking him backwards. As Ryan stumbled backwards and tried to turn around so that he could defend himself, Dean launched a punch that caught him in the chin. As Ryan reeled from the punch, Ty leaped to defend him, yelling at Dean as Angie was yelling at all three of them to take it outside. Ty shoved Dean hard with both hands, forcing him back a few steps before he refocused his attention from Ducati onto her. Before she could assault him again, he grabbed her wrists and pushed her towards Sam, counting on his brother to keep her out of it. As always, Sam had his back, catching Ty before she could recover, wrapping his arms around her and thereby pinning her arms to her sides. Ty was still yelling, mostly four-letter words, but Dean had already tuned her out. His eyes were trained on Ducati as he pulled himself together, raising his fists and looking for a weakness. Dean almost grinned. This guy didn't have a chance.

Dean gestured for the guy to go ahead and try it. Ducati walked right into it, unleashing a right hook. Dean ducked, popping back up inside the guy's defenses and catching him with an uppercut. Dean could feel the guy's jaw pop. It wasn't surprising that his eyes lost focus and he collapsed to the floor.

"Get out of my bar." the bartender snapped, rushing onto the scene and pushing Dean away from the unconscious biker.

Dean backed away with a shrug, "I tried to warn him."

"Out!" Angie yelled, pointing furiously towards the door.

Dean spread his hands as if to demonstrate his innocence as he backed towards the door. He glanced towards Sam, who released Ty. She immediately bolted past them out the door, forcing the boys to hurry after her. She paced beside the Impala, wishing she didn't need the Winchesters to drive her home. The whole point of picking up the guy with the Ducati was to be able to avoid them. Then, Dean had to go and ruin it, like he had everything she'd had going before he rolled into town. Even Angie was probably pissed at her now.

Dean and Sam approached the car slowly once they saw that she hadn't run off on foot. Sam glanced at his brother questioningly, wondering how he planned to handle the now even more volatile female. Dean shrugged and silently unlocked the car. He knew how much it irked Sam when he did this, causing problems and then refusing to address them, but he much preferred to let Ty sulk than try and have a heart to heart. As long as she wasn't doing something stupid, she could be angry. He knew this course of action wasn't really getting him any closer in solving the problem of Ty, but he couldn't help it. When it came to fixing an emotionally warped girl, he honestly didn't have a clue and he knew it. So, for the time being, he would settle for his tried and true method of simply forcing her not to do things that would spell trouble. Maybe in the morning, when his temper had cooled off and his mind was clearer, he could force himself to talk to Sam about it and see what he thought they needed to do, but for the meantime, since he really didn't even know exactly what was wrong, this would have to do.

Dean made the drive back to Ty's in record time and all three were relieved to escape from the tension of the car. Ty had gone back to giving them the silent treatment, pretending she was hardly even aware of their presence. She let herself into her apartment, leaving the door open behind her as if she didn't care whether or not they followed her in. She went straight to her room and slammed the door behind her, hoping that would communicate effectively enough that she wanted to be left alone.

"Dude, would you please just talk to her." Sam sighed, collapsing on the couch.

"Why don't you talk to her?" Dean grumbled, eyeing the loveseat and imagining how uncomfortable it might be to sleep there.

"She's not my girlfriend." Sam retorted, "And I didn't piss her off."

"She's not my girlfriend." Dean griped.

"Fine. Latest woman to be spurned by Dean Winchester. Whatever." Sam amended sarcastically, "Still your problem, man."

"So, I deal with it in the morning." Dean shrugged, scoping out the arm chair and wondering if that would be preferably to the loveseat.

"Dean, let me clue you into something since you're obviously clueless about this stuff, if you leave it till morning, she's going to be ten times as pissed off." Sam advised, "At least try to square things with her. Making the effort gets you brownie points."

"Thanks, Dr. Phil." Dean rejoined with a roll of his eyes.

But, unfortunately, he conceded that Sam was probably right about this sort of stuff and resignedly trudged over to Ty's door. He paused before knocking, glancing back at Sam as if to ask if he was really sure this was such a great idea. Sam just raised his eyebrows as if to ask what he was waiting for. Dean sighed and knocked twice.

"What?" came the angry bark through the door.

"Open up. We need to talk." Dean replied.

"Dude!" Sam hissed.

"I mean, can I come in?" Dean amended, glancing heavenward with a look on his face that said he couldn't believe he was really doing this and not settling in to sleep.

"Why?" Ty asked, apparently not impressed by Dean's attempt at politeness.

Dean ground his teeth, "'Cause I don't like talking to doors?"

"Not good enough. Try again."

"How about because if you don't open the door in the next thirty seconds, I'm picking the lock?" Dean growled at the door.

"Enter at your own risk, Winchester. I've been practicing with throwing stars." Ty warned, glaring at her side of the door in turn.

"Bitch." Dean grumbled.

"What did you call me?" Ty demanded.

"Wow, thin walls." Dean remarked, "Look, you want to yell through the door, fine. I know you're pissed at me and that's fine. Truth is, I'm a little pissed at you, too. I'll give you the hunt, we'll call that my bad, but the shit at the bar is all on you, babe."

"You call that an apology?" Sam asked, wide-eyed.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean snapped.

"Whatever, Dean." Ty replied, staring at the door, her face and eyes loosing all signs of outward emotion. She wasn't even angry anymore, "I don't even care. Do what you gotta do, but stay out of my business. The deal with us was one hunt and done, remember? We're done."

Dean was slow to reply, frankly a little stunned at what she'd just said. Not that he'd been looking for a serious relationship or anything, far from it in fact, but he'd figured that he and Ty were something more than just a one and done at this point. He didn't know what to call their relationship, but it wasn't that. He'd figured Ty felt the same, he'd felt it in her kisses even, and yet here she was telling him it was over, telling him to stay out of her life. What the hell? When he met her, she'd wanted nothing more than to join them. Now she wanted them...no, him...gone. Well, if that's what she really wanted, fine! And when she wound up dead because of her stupidity, it would be her own fault. If she wasn't going to let him in, he wasn't going to stick around and wait for that to happen.

"You know what? You can say that again, sweetheart!" Dean snapped, "I don't need this shit."

Dean spun around and stalked towards the door. Sam called after him, but he ignored him. Ty heard the front door slam, but hardly reacted. She just sat silently in her room, digesting what had happened. She'd finally done it. She'd driven him away. Frankly, she was a little surprised it had taken this long.

"Ty?" Sam called hesitantly. Ty didn't respond, but he continued anyway, "I know that neither of you really meant that. We just want to help you."

Ty remained silent. Sam shook his head sadly, wishing this didn't have to be so hard for all of them, but also knowing that these sorts of things, the kind that involved tangled webs of emotion, were never easy. So, seeing as how they were currently at an impasse, Sam returned to the couch and settled in to wait for Dean's eventual return.

Dean, meanwhile, immediately sought the comfort of the Impala, his usual refuge from the rest of the world. Opening the door and collapsing inside, Dean quickly jammed the key in the ignition and brought the car to life. The hum of the engine was an immediate relief, causing him to expel the breath he hadn't been fully aware he was holding. He wrapped his hands around the steering wheel, adjusting his grip on the wheel, hands flexing before he finally put the car in drive and moved out on the road. Although the Impala always served to sooth Dean's anxiety to some extent, he could still feel frustration coursing through his veins. It wasn't the car's fault; he just couldn't get that damn girl out of his head. With a second sigh, this one markedly more agitated, he reached out and turned on the radio, seeking out one of the classic rock stations Ty had alerted them to the last time they'd been through this town.

"...When I hold her in my arms/ You know she sets my soul on fire/ Oooh, when my baby kisses me/ My heart becomes filled with desire/ When she wraps her lovin' arms around me/ About drives me out of my mind/ Yeah, when my baby kisses me/ Chills run up and down my spine/ My baby, she's alright/ My baby, she's clean out-of-sight/ Don't you know that she is ... she's some kind of wonderful..." the radio blared Grand Funk Railroad at him.

Dean scowled at the radio and changed the station. Ty was some kind of something alright, but wonderful wasn't the first word that came to mind. Still, the idea here was to stop thinking about her.

"...Well I'm running down the road trying to loosen my load/ got a world of trouble on my mind/ Lookin' for a lover who won't blow my cover/ she's so hard to find/ Take it easy, take it easy/ Don't let the sound of your own wheels make you crazy/ Come on baby, don't say maybe/ I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna save me..."

"Damn it!" Dean growled, spinning the radio dial at random, "Even the freaking radio's turned against me."

The dial eventually landed on a station playing a fast rock beat. Dean settled back for a second, finally feeling some relief. Then, the lyrics kicked back in.

"Hey! You're a crazy bitch/ but you fuck so good I'm on top of it/ When I dream I'm doing you all night/ Scratches all down my back to keep me right on."

Dean leaped forward in his seat and quickly hit the power on the radio. Silence was better at this point since it was clear he wasn't going to escape songs that brought Ty to mind. His hands tightening around the wheel and his foot pressing harder against the gas, Dean fell back on a tried and true method of outrunning his problems and burying his feelings.

Ty, on the other hand, sat on her floor surrounded by CDs. There was a neat stack to her left and a swiftly growing haphazard pile on her right. Ty picked up another CD from the stack.

"Reminds me of Dean." she said, shaking her head and tossing the CD to her right. She continued to grab the next CD of the top, "Reminds me of Dean. Reminds me of Dean. Reminds me of Dean. Damn it! Don't I own anything that doesn't bring that damn boy to mind?"

With a loud growl of irritation, Ty dug through her remaining CDs to find Blue Man Group, the only CD she owned that had a fast beat, but no words. She prayed that would be neutral enough to allow her to forget Dean for at least a moment.

Popping the CD in her player and hitting play, Ty jumped to her feet and instantly began wailing on her punching bag. She forced herself not to picture a particular handsome face with a devil-may-care grin and sparkling hazel eyes as her target and instead tried not to think at all. Unfortunately, every time when she thought she'd finally managed to get him out of her head, he wormed his way back into her thoughts. He was like a freaking addiction and she just couldn't shake it.

A year ago, Ty had never thrown a punch without holding back a little. Now, she was pounding the punching bag hard enough to make her hands ache and still finding little satisfaction. It was awfully tempting to sneak out of here past Sam and go find a good, old fashioned bar fight to take her agitation out on. In fact, it was too tempting.

Ty stopped sparring with her punching bag and quirked her head, trying to hear Sam's activities over her stereo. She could hear the television. Ty tip-toed over to her door and cautiously pulled it open just enough for her to peak through. Sam was indeed sitting on her couch, watching the TV and sipping a beer. Although he seemed perfectly at ease, zoned out even, Ty knew it would be impossible to get past him without him knowing. Ty closed the door and turned around, seeking another escape route. Her eyes alighted upon the window. Her window wasn't far from the balcony that opened out from her living room. If she was careful, she could probably slip out the window, over to the balcony, then drop to the ground outside. Between the stereo and the television, she could probably pull it off without Sam knowing.

Ty pulled open the window as far as it would go. The window was right over her bed, giving her something to stand on that made it not terribly difficult to slip outside. With her feet hanging outside, Ty flipped over onto her stomach, hanging on to the windowsill until she could get her feet over to the edge of the balcony. When she found the edge of the balcony with her foot, she slowly lowered herself further, using her feet to pull her over. For a second when she let go of the window and found herself balancing precariously on the top of the balcony ledge, she wondered if this was such a great idea, especially with alcohol still in her system, and if she might just end up with some broken bones and a trip to the hospital instead. Then, she found her balance and was able to hop down onto the balcony itself. The second her feet hit the solid floor, those thoughts of caution disappeared. She waited for a second to see if Sam was going to come running, alerted by the sound of her jumping down from the ledge. When nothing happened, she proceeded to climb over the ledge, holding on to the bars and lowering herself once again until she was dangling below the balcony itself. It was still a ways to the ground, probably around nine feet, but thankfully there was a patch of grass below to soften her landing. Ty let go, bending her knees on landing and allowing herself to fall forward. It wasn't very cool looking to end up on hands and knees, but it was much better for her joints to soften the blow of landing as much as possible.

Regaining her feet and dusting off her hands, Ty looked back up at her window with a grin. Sam was oblivious and she was out of there. Feeling pretty cocky, Ty strode towards the parking lot and her car.

Dean, by this time, had decided that simply driving was just not going to cut it this time. He needed to do something more active and less passive. This wasn't going to go away on its own. Maybe he could drown it.

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the next really run-down looking bar he came across, parking around back and far away from the other cars so his baby wouldn't be in harm's way. This was the sort of place most people passed by, wary of its appearance and the sort of clientele it undoubtedly attracted. For Dean, at this moment, that was precisely its charm. The road hog-style motorcycles out front promised rough men who weren't afraid to fight, the lack of windows promised a dark place where one could forget the passage of time, and the neon sign out front that assured him that the place was open was as welcoming as anything Dean could imagine.

Dean strode up to the door and pushed it open. The inhabitants of the bar, probably almost all regulars, glanced up when he entered, but then quickly returned to their previous occupations. Dean took in the room quickly: first, picking out the people who would most likely be a threat, then the exits should he need to make a quick getaway, finally taking notice of the pool tables, the dart boards and the selection lined up behind the bar. Taking his time, Dean wandered over to the bar and ordered a stiff drink. The bartender eyed him in return as if skeptical about Dean's presence in his bar, but then filled the order and placed the glass in front of the young hunter. Dean looked down into the amber liquid, wondering if there was enough booze in the world, let alone this bar, to make him forget the complicated mess he was in. Then, he shrugged to himself and decided that he would never know unless he gave it a try. With that thought in mind, he lifted the cool glass to his lips and downed the contents in one long swallow, coughing slightly as the alcohol seared its way down his throat to join the two shots of Ty's he'd had earlier.

"Bartender!" Dean called, slamming the glass back onto the bar, "Keep 'em coming."

Ty prowled the streets in her crappy car, hoping she wasn't driving poorly enough to draw any unwanted attention as she swiftly evaluated each bar and nightclub she passed in terms of the likelihood of its satisfying her needs. She finally ended up pulling into the parking lot of one shady looking place that she normally bypassed on her way through the area without a second glance. Tonight was not a night for familiarity. Tonight was a night to get lost.

Ty could hear yelling inside as she walked up to the doors and closed her hand over the handle. She paused, listening to the voices, but she couldn't make out anything resembling words. It just sounded like a rowdy bunch of guys. Well, she didn't care. At this point the sound of gunfire on the other side of that door wouldn't have deterred her entrance. Ty pushed the door open and strode in. Taking in the scene before her, her lips immediately curved upwards in a pleased smirk. This had definitely been the right choice. She'd been looking for a fight and here she'd walked right into the middle of one. Perfect.

Ty moved forward, fully prepared to leap into the middle of the fray when she caught sight of the person already occupying that position. Her smile disappeared faster than she could blink.

"Son of a bitch!" she exclaimed.

The sound of a pissed off female voice drew a bit of attention and more than one head turned to see who had entered. Unfortunately, one such head belonged to the person Ty was so desperate to avoid at the moment.

"Ty?!" Dean exclaimed in utter astonishment.

Before she could answer or Dean could get another word out, one of his opponents through another punch at his face, drawing his attention back to the fight and effectively ending whatever time out Ty might have momentarily created. With a long suffering sigh and markedly less enthusiasm, Ty slipped into the brawl, tapping a brute on the shoulder and unleashing a punch that shattered his nose when he turned around. She'd be damned if Dean was going to ruin this for her, too. Besides, it seemed he'd somehow managed to piss off an entire bar in addition to her and she couldn't exactly just leave him here to get his ass kicked. Although, if she did manage to drag him out of here in one piece, she fully intended to give him a thorough beating herself.

In the midst of punching and kicking her way through a biker gang's worth of burly meatheads, Ty found herself back-to-back with Dean.

"Didn't expect to run into you here." Dean commented, punctuating his sentence with a pained grunt as a fist found his jaw and he fell into a nearby table.

"Winchester, if you don't stop talking, I'm going to knock you unconscious myself." Ty growled in response, ducking a similar attack from her side of the fight.

Dean scrambled back to his feet, rubbing his jaw and testing it out to see if it was still in the right place. Apparently deciding it was, he replied, "Looks like you're a little busy at the moment, sweetheart."

Ty's teeth clenched at the pet-name and she lashed out furiously at the nearest drunkard, pretending it was Dean's handsome face she was targeting. Where did he get off calling her 'sweetheart?'

"Besides," Dean continued, grabbing a guy by the shoulders and bringing his stomach into abrupt contact with his knee, "I was here first and I don't remember inviting you to the party."

Ty would have informed him exactly how much his permission of her activities really mattered to her if she hadn't gotten distracted by her anger and caught of guard by some guy in a leather jacket wielding a pool cue. She cried out as the cue caught her across the ribs and snatched at the weapon before her adversary could withdraw it and attack again. She attempted to yank the stick out of his hands, but his grip on it was solid. And seeing as how Ty was now a little preoccupied in her tug-o-war battle and had both hands wrapped around the pool cue, she couldn't move fast enough to defend herself when someone else came at her, landing a punch right across her cheek bone. Ty could feel that this was getting rapidly out of hand. Despite her gusto, she was out of her league on this one. Every guy in this bar had probably about sixty pounds on her and a lot of experience in this type of fight. Hell, even Dean was undoubtedly a regular when it came to bar brawls. Ty, on the other hand, could still count her bar fight experiences on one hand (although the number was growing rapidly thanks to those "bad nights" at Cholla's, much to Angie's displeasure). She was loathe to pull a weapon on someone and possibly escalate the seriousness of the situation and there was absolutely no way in hell she was going to ask Dean for help. She needed to refocus some of their attention.

"That all you got, ugly?" Ty taunted with a smirk, "Maybe we should get your momma in here to throw the punches for you."

As anticipated, the scruffy alcoholic who'd landed a punch saw red and came at Ty again, swinging. Ty ducked and yanked back on the pool cue at the same time, pulling the guy on the other end of the stick right into the line of fire. And thankfully, that was all it took, one misdirected punch, to turn those two against each other. The guy in leather released the pool cue and returned the punch he'd received, forgetting about Ty completely. In the moment of relief that afforded her, Ty surveyed her surroundings and saw that by now most of the bar had devolved into chaos, rather than concentrated fighting. Dean was still exchanging right hook with some guy in Harley T-shirt, but everyone else seemed to be fighting amongst themselves now. Ty moved around behind Dean to come up next to him, swinging the pool cue like a club and breaking it across the Harley guy's thick head. He dropped, falling into a table and breaking it on his way down.

"Thank me later." Ty snapped, grabbing a fistful of Dean's shirt and propelling him towards the door.

Dean shook her hold off, but took the hint and quickly ducked his way through to the exit, Ty on his heels. Once outside, he stopped, spinning around to face her, still just as tense and ready to throw punches as he'd been inside.

"I never asked for your help." he barked, oblivious to the blood trickling down his face from a cut above one eyebrow, over the other cheek and out his nose.

Ty just raised her eyebrows at him, glancing pointedly at his injuries. She'd tried not to let it show that her own cheek was throbbing and she suspected she also had some serious bruising across her left side in roughly the shape of a pool cue. Not to mention that her hands hurt like hell. Besides, if he didn't realize as soon as he said that what a jackass he was since she never asked for his help with her hunt either, he was a complete idiot.

"What the hell are you doing here anyway?" Dean continued, refusing to respond verbally to the look she was giving him, but swiftly swiping at the blood from his nose with his hand.

Ty did not want to get into that with him. So, she spun on her heel and began stomping back towards the car, biting out, "Like you care."

Dean wasn't about to let her walk away from him like that. He leaped forward, grabbing her arm above the elbow and using her momentum to spin her back around towards him. He was prepared for the punch she automatically launched at him and stepped out of the way of the blow before grabbing her other arm. Ty didn't struggle so much as give him a look that said he was incredibly lucky that he wasn't bursting into flames from the heat of it.

"Stop saying that." Dean commanded.

"Why should I?" Ty challenged.

Rather than answer that question and potentially delve too far into an emotional discussion, Dean dodged that landmine and fired a question back at her, "What is going on with you?"

What was going on with her? Deep down, Ty knew that what was going on with her was messed up, but that knowledge was buried way too deeply for her to even think about answering Dean's question. Between her and owning the problem were thick walls of anger and frustration.

"What? What do you think is wrong with me, Dean? I'm being reckless? So what? You thought I was reckless and crazy before. What the hell's the difference now?" Ty demanded.

"You know damn well what the difference is." Dean snapped. He paused and took a deep breath, shutting his eyes momentarily before opening them to look at her again, "Just talk to me."

"And say what?" Ty asked, refusing to let her anger go.

"I don't know! Why don't you try explaining to me what in that screwed up head of yours makes you think it's a good idea to throw yourself in the middle of a bar brawl? Hell, I'm sure you'd do the same thing if that had been a room full of demons! Do you really want to die? Is that it? If I'm getting this wrong, just let me know 'cause it really seems like you've lost it, babe." Dean accused, his voice rapidly gaining volume until he was yelling at her.

"What the hell do you expect?" Ty yelled back, struggling free of Dean's hold, "You want to know the difference, Dean? The difference is that when I did dangerous things before, I had a purpose. I was trying to prove myself, sure, but I was also trying like hell to stop Sam's vision from coming true. And yet, at the end of it, no matter how hard I fought or what any of us did, it was all for nothing. I still wound up burning on the ceiling, Dean! If nothing I do matters, who the hell cares if I throw myself in harm's way? It's all borrowed time, anyway."

Ty's voice had lost it's fury by the end of her rant, trailing into a whisper as she realized what she'd just said. She could feel Dean's stare even though she had her head down and couldn't see it. She could feel his surprise at her outburst. Damn it! No one was supposed to be able to get to her like that, break through all the barriers she'd built up. How was she supposed to pretend that everything was fine, that she was fine, now?

Dean's hand brushed her arm and Ty jumped back, head snapping up. She caught the sympathy and pain in his eyes in the second before she hurriedly looked away again, backing quickly away from him.

"Don't touch me." she mumbled.

"Ty..." Dean objected, moving towards her.

"No!" Ty cried, the force of her protest causing Dean to halt in his tracks.

Ty wasted no time, taking the opportunity to run, sprinting away from Dean and back towards her car. She needed distance, especially from him. Dean was dangerous. Without him around, she'd still be broken, but she could bury it deep inside where it hardly mattered. She could pretend like she didn't feel and if she tried hard enough, almost convince herself. That was so much better than trying to unravel the mess that she knew she was inside and had been ever since her encounter with the yellow-eyed demon.

Ty sped out of the parking lot and down side-streets away from the area. She drove fast because she didn't want to risk Dean following her. She watched her rearview with an intensity bordering on paranoia, looking for a sleek black outline with double headlights. She never saw anything like that, though, and finally decided that she'd ditched him and it was safe to pull over when she reached the cemetery outside of town. She knew from past experience that no one was ever there that late and she would be alone.

Ty parked the car, but didn't immediately exit. She leaned forward, allowing her head to rest on her hands on the steering wheel for a moment. Her mind kept playing back her own voice, throwing her admission back at her and refusing to let her forget it. She wasn't herself anymore; she'd changed. What did that mean? Did she even care?

"No." Ty said out loud, sitting up again, "I don't."

She opened her car door and stepped out, brushing imaginary dirt off her clothes as if she could sweep away what had just happened as easily. Her face adapting the now familiar mask of nonchalance, she strode through the partially open gates into the cemetery. She wandered absently among the headstones for awhile, perusing the names and dates with no real interest. Finally, she reached the mausoleum and had a seat on the steps. She'd sat in this exact spot the night she'd first met Dean Winchester, her mind recalled. Ty quickly pushed that thought out of her mind. This was a cemetery, a quiet place for the dead to rest. And she belonged here, too, didn't she? She had died, after all.

Ty leaned against the fancy stone pillars that ordained the front of the mausoleum, allowing her eyes to drift closed. No sounds disturbed her and she soon found herself deep in an exhausted slumber.

However, despite the peace of the graveyard, Ty was not alone. Another presence watched as she let her guard down, smiling to itself as it observed her. It had watched her for awhile now, waiting for this moment when her defenses were weakest. It was ironic, really, that it had the Winchesters to thank for that. It would be sure to thank them later.