Dylan woke up when they shuddered to a stop. He opened his eyes to bright daylight—and to Sonora, not in the car. His chest tightened, catching his breath. He examined the odometer and realized she must have driven to their destination; Broken Bow, Nebraska. They parked at a no-name gas station in front of rusty petroleum pumps. Following a ring above the door, Sonora emerged with two coffees and got back in the car. She placed one coffee in the cup holder and drank from the other. When Dylan reached for the other one, she swatted his hand away.

"Um, I'm positive I was the one driving," Sonora said with a snap to her voice. Geesh. Someone was cranky.

"So...they're both for you?"

"No. The drink is for you. I just wanted to give you shit." She gave him a teasing half-grin before taking a sip of her drink.

Caffeine. Thank fucking God.

He took the steaming styrofoam cup, knowing the drink was going to taste like shit. Gas station coffee was never tasty, always tasting of burnt gasoline. But he needed a jumpstart. When he put the cup to his lips, a delicious aroma wafted. He paused. Wait, the brew didn't smell charred. Nora had added a few splashes of caramel, coconut, and mocha—his go-to combo for disguising the nastiness. She had remembered. Her thoughtfulness made the edges of his mouth tip up into a full smile.

"Thanks," he said, taking a long sip. Ah. Yeah. He needed sweet, sweet caffeine.

Despite Nora's sweet gesture, tension still lingered between them since their conversation before he fell asleep. Who the hell was she to tell him what to do with his life? She wasn't his girlfriend or wife or anything. And yet—he cared what she thought. He knew where she was coming from because of her life.

Nora grew up in a time with little to no options for a future other and a wife and mother. Beyond that, she was half Native American and grew up during a time that limited her opportunities even more. And he had everything at his disposal, no strings attached. So yeah, Dylan got it but didn't mean he had to cave or agree. He didn't want to attend college. He couldn't. Not after Beck. Not after Mom. He only wanted to do his job, which was doing what his family did. Saving people, hunting things. That was that. To Hell with everything else.

Sonora started driving and got the directions to a local motel and a map because this region of Nebraska didn't have amazing cell reception to use their maps app. They got to discussing the Richardsons, and they were lucky that they were the only Richardsons in the town. Deciding they couldn't waste time, they went to the hotel to change into their suits before heading right back out.

The house was somewhat easy to find in a town of 3,500. On the corner was a small cottage style with a front porch, complete with a garden complete with a waving flag. Broken Bow was a town where you expected the neighbors to drink pink lemonade on the front porch and wave as they walked by. Typical middle America goodness. Well, except for a family of Rugarus.

There was only one car out front, and the description didn't match the suspect's vehicle. The car was the mom's or one of his brothers...that is unless he ditched the car on the way. The car was an older model sedan, from the early 90s, and could be easily hot-wired if one knew. Which, thanks to his dad, he had.

Sonora parked the Camaro further up the road. Close enough to reach in a hurry, but far enough away that required a short walk to the front door.

"Grab the briefcase; I have a propane torch and lighter in case things go south." Sonora got out of the car, slamming the door.

Dylan did as she said and hurried behind her, getting ready to flash his FBI identification when they got to the door. Sonora knocked like she was serving a warrant, and a woman in her late 50s answered the door.

"Mrs. Richardson," Sonora inquired.

"Yes," the woman said. "Can I help you?"

Sonora pulled out her identification, and Dylan followed.

"FBI, ma'am. We're working a homicide case in Missouri—"

"Yes, someone killed my daughter-in-law."

"Have you seen your son," Sonora questioned. The woman started getting twitchy and pale, her eyes darting. Dylan sensed her pulling up a wall and her dread. That was a dead giveaway; she had.

"No."

"M'am, it's imperative we talk to him. If he's here and you're harboring a fugitive–"

"I said no, now if you excuse me." Mrs. Richardson started to close the door, but Dylan put his foot in the way.

"We just want to talk, Mrs. Richardson. May we come in," he said, sending out a wave of calm from him to her. "Please?"

Mrs. Richardson relented with a smile, and Dylan gave Sonora a wink. He kept telling her you got more flies with honey than vinegar. And being able to manipulate emotions wasn't a poor gift to have either. They made their way to the living room and a wall of family photographs. He recognized Daniel from the photos in Missouri, but not the other two boys or the man. Dylan had to assume the older man was Mr. Richardson, and that the other two were Daniel's younger brothers.

"Please, sit," Mrs. Richardson motioned at the kitchen table. Dylan and Sonora sat on either side of the woman. He put the briefcase between his legs within reach. Could never be too careful. The widow looked old for her age. It was obvious she had seen some shit in her life.

"He's not here...but I know why you're here," she said in response, leaning her elbows on the table and putting her forehead in her palms.

"And why is that," Dylan gently pushed.

"The curse."

"Curse?" Dylan's eyes took a quick peek at Sonora. Yep, she heard her too.

"You're going to think I'm crazy," Mrs. Richardson continued, lifting her head, playing with the wedding she still wore on her left ring finger.

"We're in a special branch of the FBI. So try us," Sonora said.

"My-my husband's family...they have a history of...things happening to them. When they hit a certain age, they...the males in particular…"

"Monster'd out," Sonora blurted. A jolt of fear radiated off the elder woman that shot him right in the chest. Dylan ran a hand down his face. God, she needed to work on her bedside manner.

Mrs. Richardson's eyes went wide with shock.

"Yes. They hit 30 and then...they change. I realize Danny hit that milestone, but...I hoped the curse skipped him. Wishful thinking, right?"

Dylan glimpsed the sadness radiating from the woman as she continued playing with the ring on her finger. The way she was twisting the gold band while she was talking…

"What happened to your husband," Dylan asked, realizing he whispered the question. The thick grief from the lady was thick and suffocating. She closed her eyes tight before she dared answer.

"He killed himself," she said, a single tear slipping down her cheek. A lump rose in Dylan's throat, the same one the woman in front of him was trying to swallow. Damn. That poor woman's grief...and it was a feeling he had been trying to escape in his own life.

"I'm so sorry. How," Dylan asked as he did his best to hide the wavering timbre of his voice.

"Leave it to hunters to show up here. He drove a car full of gasoline off a cliff," a voice interrupted from the doorway.

Dylan's gaze lifted to a young man leaning his shoulder against the doorway. He noticed the resemblance between that guy and Daniel. But the man wasn't Daniel himself; the normal skin was a dead giveaway. Rugarus was pale with dark eyes and wormy skin.

"Patrick," Mrs. Richardson sighed. "I–"

"It'll be alright, Ma," he smiled at his mother before turning his attention back to the "FBI." "Yeah, we knew what Dad was, and we know what we could become—and we've prepared for the end. Daniel thought he'd be able to maintain control and keep his wife safe, but…so, don't worry about me. I'll take care of myself before it's too late."

"Patrick," Mrs. Richardson's eyes flew up to her son. "But you can't— "

"Yeah, I can, mom. You even warned him marriage was stupid. All age 30 brings is death and monsters. And I would never want to hurt you, Mom. Never."

"Have you talked to your brother," Dylan asked.

"I have. He called about 20 minutes ago, wanting to see if he'd be able to hide here—and I said hell no."

"Patrick!"

"Mom, I won't let him hurt you or me," he turned his attention back to Sonora and Dylan. "The only person that would take him in is Jason. He's up in Maine. There are lots of secluded lands up there too. Jason has always been lax on the monster curse because he was a baby when Dad died and he doesn't remember what changed in Dad. I saw it. So, if you're looking for Daniel, he'll either turn up dead by his hand, or he's going to be making his way to Jason. He's up at Bowdoin College in Brunswick. He has an apartment on campus. I'm 99 percent positive Dan would go to Jay. They're close."

Dylan stood from the table with his briefcase and thanked them for their time. Nora followed suit.

"You won't kill him, will you," Mrs. Richardson said, looking up at Dylan. He didn't know what to say to the poor lady. That thing wasn't her son anymore. He was a monster. But Dylan understood enduring significant loss, and his words failed him. Patrick knelt beside his mother at the table, putting a hand on her shoulder and one on her knee.

"Mom," Patrick started. "Remember, Dad? Danny's gone. What remains is going to feed and feed…and people are going to die. You know that. We have to remember him for who he was."

Mrs. Richardson lost her composure and broke down in her son's arms. Dylan perceived the crushing tension around his heart as if under several tons of boulders. He couldn't catch his breath. Sonora glanced at him with concern and grabbed him by the arm.

"We'll let you know what goes down," she said to the mother and son. "And—I'm truly sorry for your loss."

Once they left the house, he could exhale, taking several deep cleansing breaths. But it drained him of all the emotion. Fuck, the damn hunt was like being at home, and what he was trying to avoid. And it frayed his nerves. He stumbled, and Sonora put his arm around her shoulder to give him some support. She even had to help him into the car.

After she got herself into the car, she turned her attention to him. He was slouching in the seat with his head tilted back, trying to ground himself. A small hand touched his shoulder.

"Dyl, what's going on? Are you okay?"

"Yeah...a little worn out...those emotions were heavy in there. I feel bad for her." He twisted his head to glance over at Nora in the driver's seat.

"Yeah, I do too. I'm sorry. Hearing her thoughts sucked so I can only imagine. I couldn't fathom feeling those things all the time...living in a personal Hell knowing you were going to lose everyone important."

He gave her a sad smile.

"Come on, let's go."

"How long is the drive to Brunswick?"

"27 hours, but that's not where we're going. First thing first, you need to recharge. We'll stay at a motel for a bit. Maybe just buy one of those 4-hour deals."

"A 4-hour motel? Sounds dirty—and I don't mean in the sexy sense," he joked, causing her to laugh.

"Probably not. But as long as they have mirrors on the ceiling and magic fingers, I'll be a happy camper," Sonora said through her giggles as she put the car in gear.

"Well, we should make sure we get our money's worth," Dylan laughed, and he sensed it—nerves and a twist in his stomach. And those sensations weren't coming from him—they were coming from Sonora. She tensed up but was warm? So weird. When he thought about what they were talking about...Woah. Holy shit. Was Sonora reacting to what he said? Did Nora think about him in that conversation?

His eyes drifted from her cute short chestnut hair over her lithe tan body, and then he felt the heat too. She was adorable when she bit her lip when she was embarrassed. Damn. And her legs looked great in her sleep shorts. He thought back to how they had been sleeping in bed, and how her body pressed against him, and he couldn't deny thinking about a repeat excited him. He only imagined how it would be like to get between her thighs...

But he remembered their brief fight from earlier and how she was set on getting a new partner. "I meant napping."

"Yeah, I figured," she breathed, her lips tight. "What did you think I was thinking?"

He didn't dare project what he was thinking, just in case Nora was creeping in his mind. Dylan didn't want to admit his thoughts to himself. Shit. He was attracted to Sonora. Tempted by her in an irrational sense. Hell, who wouldn't be? She was stunning in every sense of the word.

Becky's cerulean eyes slipped into his mind, and what being with her had led to—a funeral. Her end by his hands.

No.

Dammit, he would not let another senseless death happen again. Another fun Winchester curse. You slept with a girl, they inevitably died. He decided right then; regardless of his feelings, Sonora needed a new partner. Pronto.

Ding!

Ding!

Dylan took his phone out of his pocket. Two texts from April...and his stomach dropped when he saw the time they were sent. They were way early this morning. Nice. Must have come through late because they were driving through podunk, USA. Either way, there was rarely ever a good reason for late-night texts in their family.

His finger pressed the button and held his breath.

hey, bro. took care of that wolf prob.

Well, that was good news at least. Not that he doubted her. April was pretty kick-ass...but...she was out of practice.

know u r on a case but need u home ASAP. i need ur help.

Help? What? Shit. SHIT. He found April's number in the contacts.

And it rang. And rang. And rang. His heart stopped with every missed call.

"Hel….hello?"

"Christ, April, are you okay?!"

Sonora glanced at him. "Is everything okay," she whispered from the driver's seat.

Dylan waved her off, giving his sister his undivided attention.

"Hello? April? Are. You. Okay?"

"Huh? Yeah…" She yawned.

"Why the hell did it take you so long to answer?"

"Oh. I...I left my phone in the bathroom and I just got up. Sorry."

Seriously? It was late in the afternoon, and she just got up?

"Well, sis, I just got your texts. Sorry, we were in where God-left-his-shoes Nebraska. You said you needed me to come home? What's going on?" He could hear her giggle in the background. What the absolute Hell? "April? Are you fucking with me right now?"

"What, no—"

"Is someone there—"

"No," came her immediate clipped response. Lie. "No one. Just watching something funny on TV—"

The tenuous hold on his temper was slipping. Between what was happening with Nora and everything else, he didn't need for his sister to be doing something dangerous, dumb, or reckless. Knowing her, it probably involved a combination of all three.

"April. What do you want," he spat.

"I—"

"You texted me at," he looked at the time stamp. "Three in the goddamn morning. I got these texts and thought someone had fucking died." Again, he thought. "Is everyone okay?"

"No one is dead, Dyl," she sighed with annoyance. "Don't you think I would have called if that was the case?"

"Truth? I don't know if you'd have the common sense. You texted me at three in the morning for no reason…" He paused and let out a shaky breath. "Then what do you need, because I went from being fucking terrified to now being super pissed off. Why do you need me to come home ASAP?"

"I need to talk to you—"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I'm sorry? No need to get all bitchy, bro. Did you climb out of the dick side of the bed this morning?"

Nice. Well, at least she sounded more normal.

"I'm out on a hunt trying to focus on getting the monster, and not getting killed out here. Then I get a text from you, saying you need me home, and all you want is to talk? Seriously?"

"Dyl, this is something I need to talk to you about in person."

He let out a harsh laugh. "April, we tried that. I was home for weeks and you didn't want to talk since…." Since Mom. "You want to talk, I'm right here."

"No, I can't on the phone…"

"Jesus H. Christ, April! Honestly?! Look, I'm happy you want to talk, I'm ecstatic. I am. Call Gwen or Cas, Hell, I bet Bobby'd be damned thrilled if you opened up a little."

"But...you're my twin," April muttered. "No one understands me like you do."

She was right. He was the yin to her yang. She always referred to them as being the best wombmates, because she was a dork. And he knew her well enough to recognize the sadness in her tone. Something was up with her.

"Look, sis, I'll come home when I can. Should be in the next couple of days...okay? I've," he glanced over at Nora, who was doing her best not to eavesdrop even though Dylan was fully aware she was focusing on the entire conversation. The way she was biting on her lower lip to stop herself from talking was drawing his attention. "I've got to see this one through and then I'll come home. You okay until then?"

"It's...it's okay, Dyl. No...no rush. I was just being stupid about something."

"You sure?"

The screen door banged and the sound of her steps on the porch stairs in the distance. "Yeah. It was just a rough night but...yeah, I think everything is going to be okay now. Don't worry about me."

But he worried about April. A lot.

"I'll be home as soon as I can. If something changes and you need me home, I'll make it happen. If it's life or death though, you call me whenever okay? I'll run my ass home with my super vampire speedy awesomeness." That earned him a genuine laugh from April. And man, it had been too long since he'd heard one from her.

"I promise if something is wrong, I'll call you," she said. "Stay safe...please."

"Of course. You too. I love you, sis."

"I love you too, jerk."

Dylan ended the call and leaned his head against the window. He did bother looking over at Sonora. He could sense she had questions, but he didn't want to talk. Fear suddenly slipped down his spine...and it wasn't coming from Nora. It was a warning. Something was wrong.

"Were you followed?" Dean peered out the doorway of his motel room. They were alone. Good. He couldn't take any damn chances. They had to be discreet.

"No, I'm in the clear. Are you sure Sam doesn't know—"

"He took time to be with Ruby at home. He has no clue. And do you think he'd be okay with what we're doing? And what about Cas?"

"Oh, come on, Winchester. Cas has no clue. I obviously wouldn't be so open about meeting up with his best friend in a sleazy motel room with hourly rates, ya know?"

"Good point," he admitted with a half-smile. God, Dean hated lying to Cas. The dishonesty was really eating at him—but, goddammit, he needed her. "Are you sure you want to do this? We can always turn back now before we–"

"No. No, I want to do this. I need to do this," Gwen said, coming closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder.