"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

I looked up. "What do you think happened back at Renee's house?"

Sam shook his head. "We really don't know. We just knew we had to get you out of there." He sighed. "I'm really sorry you had to see that."

I shrugged. "To be honest, the only thing I feel bad about is the man who died."

Dean furrowed his brow.

I sighed, and tears came to my eyes. "I ki—" I cleared my throat. "Killed him."

"What?" Sam looked shocked, and he shook his head. "What happened?"

"I told you that Renee had been acting weird," I said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"After you dropped me off..." I sighed. "I really don't know what happened. She made me food, and she must've put something in it 'cause the next thing I knew... I woke up, tied to a chair."

Dean rubbed his face like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"She told me that— that she knew Yellow-eyes and she knew his real name was Azazel. She told me she was in love with him, but the only way she could draw him in was with me, 'cause he used to be like a father to me." I shook my head. "She told me that at the time she didn't know Azazel was a demon, but he took care of me. She was happy with that 'cause she didn't want to, but after a while, she hated that I was taking the attention away from her. That's why she gave me to Dad 'cause it was either that or— or she was gonna kill me."

Dean stood up and started pacing.

"After she told me that... a demon showed up and killed her. That's who that man was," I explained.

"He was a demon?" Sam asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, that rug he was laying on had a devil's trap under it."

Sam shook his head. "I don't understand. Renee had a devil's trap in her house?"

I shook my head. "No, I put it there."

Sam furrowed his brow. "What? How—"

"Sam," Dean interrupted, "Let her explain."

"After the demon killed Renee, I cut myself free with my knife. I stabbed him in the neck and ran. I got away long enough to drop my grandmother's rosary in a fishbowl and splashed it on the demon when he came into the room. Then I ran upstairs and rushed to draw the devil's trap with a tube of lipstick. I covered it with a rug and then hid behind a bed." My throat started to tighten, thinking about the next part of the story. "When the demon was trapped... I exorcised it."

Sam and Dean gave each other a look, both of them stunned.

"I killed that man." I shrugged, tears now streaming down my cheeks.

Sam shook his head, his elbows on his knees, holding his hands together, with tears in his own eyes.

"No, this is my fault," Dean said, "I shouldn't have allowed you to come with us on any hunts or let you stay with that woman." He shook his head. "I knew that was a terrible idea. From now on, you're not leaving motel rooms. You're not going on any hunts."

"What? How is that the answer?" I asked.

"Maddison!" Dean yelled. "I'm not arguing about this. My job is to keep you safe, and I failed that.

I furrowed my brow, now angry. "But—"

"No! It's done. I'm done." Dean shook his head.

I stood up. "Don't you get it?! I probably wouldn't have known what to do if I didn't go on hunts with you guys." I shook my head. "I probably would be dead right now or worse."

Dean's expression softened, but he just stared at me.

"I've learned everything I know about surviving by watching you." I sighed. "And— And you're going to be gone soon. So, teach me... teach me how to protect myself 'cause... you won't always be able to."

Tears came to his eyes, and he pulled me into a long hug. "I will do anything I have to, to keep you safe. I can promise you that."

I cleared my throat, pulled away, and wiped my tears away. "There's more, though."

The boys just looked at me and waited.

"I think I might be like you, Sammy," I said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"That demon at Renee's was saying I was supposed to be Azazel's "perfect child." Then Azazel said it himself that night the gate to hell was opened. And... you guys remember Andy?" I asked.

They both nodded.

"He used his abilities on Dean, but when he tried to use them on me, they didn't work. Just like when he tried to use them on Sam. That must mean something... right?" I asked. "I mean, you were thinking it too, Dean."

They just stared, taking in everything I had said.

I shrugged. "I don't know what I can do or even if I can do anything." I looked at Sam. "Maybe it doesn't matter anymore. I mean, nothing has happened with you since the night Azazel was killed. Right?"

October 24th - October 26th, 2007

Months later, Sam came up with a plan to get Dean out of the deal again. Dean barely let Sam talk. He didn't want to hear any of it. So, naturally, they started fighting.

"I don't understand, Dean. Why not?" Sam asked.

"Because I said so," Dean said, coldly.

"We got the colt now!" Sam shouted.

"Sam..." Dean warned.

Sam sighed. "We can summon the crossroads demon—"

"We're not summoning anything!" Dean shouted over Sam.

"Pull the gun on her and force her to let you out of the deal!" Sam finished.

"We don't even know if that'll work!" Dean yelled.

"Well then, we'll just shoot her!" Sam yelled, "If she dies, then the deal goes away!"

"We don't know if that'll work either, Sam!" Dean shouted. "All you're pitching me right now is a bunch of 'ifs' and 'maybes' and that's not good enough because if we screw with this deal, you die!"

"And if we don't screw with it, you die!" Sam screamed.

I put my head back and looked up at the ceiling, waiting for them to stop fighting.

"Sam, enough!" Dean scolded. "I am not going to have this conversation."

"Why, because you said so?" Sam asked.

"Yes, because I said so!" Dean yelled.

"Well, you're not Dad!" Sam shouted.

I raised my eyebrows and looked at them, waiting for whatever was going to be said next. Sam and Dean just stared at each other.

"No, but I am the oldest," Dean said through gritted teeth. "And I'm doing what's best. And you're going to let this go, you understand me?"

They stared at each other angrily. Sam turned away and looked out of his window.

"Tell me about the psychotic killer," Dean said, calmly.

Sam didn't answer.

"C'mon, Sam, tell me about the psychotic killer," Dean encouraged.

Sam lifted a paper off of his lap and started reading it monotone. "Psychotic killer... rips victims apart with brute-like ferocity."

"Okay, any mention of his razor-sharp teeth or his four-inch claws? Animal eyes?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "No. But the lunar cycle's right. Look, if it is a werewolf, we don't have long. Moon's full this Friday, and that's the last time it changes for a month."

Dean nodded. "Two days, no sweat."

When we arrived in town, Sam and Dean went into the hospital as detectives to talk to the only surviving victim.

They emerged about twenty minutes later and told me that the victim, Kyle, said his assailant had killed his brothers. He also told them that the man was just an average looking person. The most distinctive thing about him was a Wile E. Coyote tattoo. While Dean talked to the doctor, Kyle thought Sam was a sketch artist, so somehow, he got roped into drawing the picture of his attacker.

Dean grabbed Sam's notebook and flipped to his drawing. "Boy, this is a piece of, uh, art. Really." He laughed.

I peered over Dean's shoulder and smirked when I saw a stick figure with large muscles, a giant head, and a goofy smile with huge sharp teeth.

Sam snatched the notebook out of Dean's hand and tucked it away. "Yeah, like you could've done any better."

"I mean instead of almost blowing our cover..." I shrugged and smirked. "You could just have me do stuff like that."

"Yeah, 'cause people would believe a twelve-year-old is a detective." Dean laughed.

"Um, excuse me, but I'm thirteen. And also, you could just say..." I thought for a second and shrugged. "I'm like a child prodigy or something."

Dean smirked. "All right, Nancy Drew. Calm down."

I stuck my tongue out at him.

Sam laughed. "So, what did the doc have to say about Kyle's brothers?"

Dean shook his head. "Not much, they were DOA at the scene. He did give me the lowdown on the coroner's report."

"Lemme guess, their hearts were missing," Sam said.

"Nope." Dean sighed. "But chunks of their kidneys, lungs, and intestines."

I frowned in disgust.

"That's just gross." Sam groaned.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, also definitely not werewolf behavior."

"So, what? Demon?" Sam asked. "Attacker could've been possessed."

"Why would a demon stop halfway through an attack?" Dean asked.

"I think that uh... could've..." Sam sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, I got nothing."

Dean nodded. "Me neither."

A little later, we heard about another mysterious attack that took place. One of the victims had survived, so the boys wanted to go back to the hospital to talk to her.

However, when they returned to the Impala, the story they told me was completely shocking. They said that the victim and her husband had been hiking through the woods, but they ended up getting lost and stumbling onto a small house. As they approached the house, a sweet old woman greeted them and invited them in for food and drinks. Once they started eating, they realized the woman had poisoned their food. As the husband fell, the old woman grabbed a knife and started stabbing him like it was fun.

The victim said that she hadn't eaten as much as her husband, so she had the strength to fight back. She ended up pushing the old woman, causing her to fall and crack her head on the stove, and she took it as a chance to escape.

The last thing she added before the boys returned to me was that she thought she saw a beautiful little girl with long black hair and pale skin standing outside, watching the whole thing.

So, after talking about the old woman, we made our way over to her house. We wanted to see if there were any signs of a spirit or a possible demon.

"Well, there's no sulfur anywhere. How about the EMF?" Dean sighed as the two of us walked back into the living room with Sam.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it's going nuts. When I went over here by the window..." He pointed. "There's definitely a spirit here."

"Who stood outside the crime scene and watched," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "Looks like."

"What the hell do you make of that?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed. "Actually, I do have a theory. Uh, sort of."

Dean nodded. "Hit me."

Sam sighed, looking almost embarrassed. "Well, I'm thinkin' about fairy tales."

As he said that, I realized he was completely right.

Dean furrowed his brow. "Oh, that's— that's nice. You think about fairy tales often?"

"No, he's right," I said.

Dean looked at me, confused.

"Dean, I'm talking about the murders. A guy and a girl? Hiking through the woods, an old lady tries to eat 'em?" Sam asked.

"Hansel and Gretel," I said.

Sam nodded. "And then we got three brothers, arguing over how to build houses, attacked by the Big Bad Wolf."

Dean nodded, now understanding. "Three Little Pigs."

"Yeah," Sam said.

"Actually, those guys were a little chubby." Dean shrugged. "Well, wait, I thought those things ended with, uh, everybody living happily ever after?"

"Well... actually, the original ones were pretty gnarly." I frowned.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. See, the Grimm Brothers' stuff was kinda the folklore of its day, full of sex, violence, cannibalism. Now, it got sanitized over the years, turned into Disney flicks and bedtime stories."

Dean nodded. "So, you think the murders are uh, what? A re-enactment? That's a little crazy."

"Crazy as what? Every day of our lives?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "Touché. How's the creepy ghost girl involved?"

"Um..." Sam thought for a second. "Well, she must've been here for a reason. I'm willing to bet you top dollar she was at the construction site too."

"We gotta do research now, don't we?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged and nodded. Dean closed his eyes and put his head back in frustration.

Dean and I went to the library to find anything we could about the town or a little girl with black hair and pale skin. Sam went off and worked on his own research.

After several hours, Dean and I gave up, having found nothing. We met up with Sam outside of the library.

"So?" Sam asked when we reached him.

"Checked every record they had. Found the usual amount of violent childhood deaths for a town this size," Dean said, and then we walked across the road toward a park.

Sam nodded. "Okay."

"Guess how many were little girls with black hair and pale skin, though," I said.

"Zero?" Sam asked.

"Zero!" Dean shouted, exasperated. "You wanna know how many little girls with black hair and pale skin that have gone missing?" He paused for less than a second. "Right again. Zip. zilch, nada." He sighed. "Tell me you've got something good, 'cause we've totally wasted the last six hours."

"Well, you ever hear of Lillian Bailey?" Sam asked.

Dean and I shook our heads.

"She was a British medium from the 1930s," Sam explained.

"She got a thing for fairy tales?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "Nah, trances. See, she'd go into these unconscious states where, um, get this, her thoughts and actions were completely controlled by spirits."

Dean furrowed his brow. "A ghost puppet master."

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"Think that's what this kid is doing?" Dean asked, "Sending wolf-boy and grandma into trances, making them go kill-crazy?"

Sam shrugged. "Could be. Ya know, kinda like uh— uh, spirit hypnosis or somethin'."

"Trances I get, but fairy tale trances?" Dean asked. "That's bizarre, even for us."

We stopped walking as we heard a loud croak from below us. We all slowly looked down to see a large bullfrog sitting on the path right in front of us.

"Yeah, you're right. That's completely normal," Sam said sarcastically.

The bullfrog continued croaking.

Dean sighed. "All right, maybe it is fairy tales. Totally messed-up fairy tales. I tell you one thing, there's no way I'm kissing a damn frog."

Sam looked up and pointed to a house across the street. "Hey. Check that out."

It was a cute house with a pumpkin sitting on the porch.

"Yeah? It's close to Halloween," Dean said.

"You remember Cinderella?" Sam asked. "With the pumpkin that turns into a coach..."

Just as he said that a mouse ran across the porch to the pumpkin.

I gasped. "And the mice that become horses?"

Dean shook his head. "You two are somethin' else."

I shrugged. "It's worth checking out, though."

Dean sighed and nodded, and then we quickly walked across the street to the house.

However, when we knocked on the door, no one answered. So, we figured it was better to be safe than sorry and decided to pick the lock, but the boys just stood there staring at me.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Well, it's not going to pick itself." Dean shrugged and gestured for me to pick it.

"Really?" I asked, not expecting that.

Dean nodded and handed me his lockpick. I took it and got to work, it took a few tries and a lot longer than if they had just done it, but I eventually unlocked it.

"Hmm, you actually did that faster than I expected." Dean took the pick back, looking impressed.

When the door creaked open, we all walked in.

"Well, who knows, maybe you'll find your fairy godmother?" Dean smirked.

Sam looked at Dean, annoyed. Sam walked one way, and I followed Dean in the opposite direction until we heard a rattling sound. They both drew their guns, and we followed the sound.

"Help! I'm in here!" a girl's voice rang through the house.

We ran after the voice and followed it into the kitchen, where we found a teenage girl, handcuffed to an oven.

"Hey! Hey." Sam crouched down in front of her. "It's okay. We're here, we're here. We got you." He leaned forward and started picking her lock.

"You have to help me. She's a lunatic," she pleaded, exhausted.

"What happened?" Dean asked.

"My stepmom, she just freaked out, screamed at me, beat me. Chained me up," the girl explained.

"Where is she now?" Sam asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know."

As the boys worried about the girl, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. I looked down the hallway to see a beautiful girl a little younger than me with long black hair and pale skin watching us.

"Hey..." I whispered to the boys, who both looked up and spotted her too.

I started walking down the hallway as Dean followed protectively after me. The girl turned and walked into the living room as I got closer to her, but once we walked in, she had disappeared. I sighed and turned to Dean but saw her standing behind him as I did.

I stepped around him and walked up to her. "What are you doing here?"

The girl stared at me, flickered, and then vanished. Leaving a red apple in her place. I bent down, picked it up, and handed it to Dean. We both examined it curiously and then gave each other confused expressions.

Dean and I waited at the Impala for Sam as he made sure the paramedics took care of the girl.

Sam walked out a while later. "Paramedics picked up Cinderella."

"That's good," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

Dean tossed the apple to Sam. "So... little girl, shiny red apple. I'm guessing that means something to you, fairytale boy?"

"Snow White," I said.

Sam nodded.

"Snow White? Ah, I saw that movie. Or the porn version anyway, 'cause there was this wicked stepmother?" Dean whistled. "She was wicked." He grinned.

I groaned. "How do you somehow work sex and porn..." I shivered from just saying the words. "Into almost every conversation?"

Dean thought about it and shrugged. "I guess it's just a talent."

Sam laughed. "Well, there is a wicked stepmother. And she tries to kill Snow White with a poison apple."

"But the apple doesn't actually kill the girl, right?" Dean asked.

"No. Puts her into a deep sleep, so deep it's almost like she's dead," Sam explained as he tossed the apple back to Dean.

We decided to head back to the hospital to see if there had been any young girls who came in recently or any who had been in a coma.

Sam and Dean walked up to the front desk and asked one of the nurses some questions while I sat close enough to hear their conversation.

The nurse sighed. "No, sorry. We don't have any comatose little girls."

"You sure?" Sam asked.

"Totally. It's mostly old guys. And, well... Callie." She paused and sighed sadly. "She's been around since before I started here."

"Callie?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, it's so sad. And poor Dr. Garrison, he just... won't give up on her," the nurse explained.

"Is Callie one of his patients?" Sam asked.

"No. His daughter," the nurse said.

We walked down the hall until we came across Callie's room. A doctor was sitting by her side, reading a book of fairy tales to her.

"'And the huntsman stepped inside, and in the bed, lay the wolf. So, the huntsman took a pair of scissors and cut open the wolf's belly,'" the doctor, who I could only assume was Dr. Garrison, read.

Callie looked exactly like the young girl we saw in that house. She was just older, closer to Sam or Dean's age. She was still beautiful with long black hair and pale skin.

Dr. Garrison stopped reading once he noticed us standing there and put the book down.

He walked over to us and cleared his throat. "Detectives. Can I help you?" He looked down at me curiously and then back up at Sam and Dean.

"We stopped by on our day off and just... heard that Callie is your daughter," Dean said.

"And we wanted to say how very sorry we are," Sam said.

Dr. Garrison nodded. "Well, uh. Thank you." He walked past us and started down the hallway. "If you'll excuse me."

"Oh, heading this way? We'll walk with you," Dean said as we all turned with Dr. Garrison. "How long's Callie been like that?"

Sam cleared his throat. "We don't mean to intrude. We can't possibly understand how hard it must be for you seeing her like this."

Dr. Garrison sighed. "It's not easy. She's uh, been here since she was eight-years-old."

"That's when she was poisoned?" Sam asked.

Dr. Garrison nodded. "Yeah. Swallowed, uh, bleach. Never figured out how she got her hands on the bottle. My wife found her, uh, brought her to the ER here, and I was on call."

"Your wife was, uh, was that Callie's stepmother?" Dean asked.

Dr. Garrison suddenly stopped walking and looked at Dean. "Actually, yes. How'd you know that?"

Dean shrugged. "Lucky guess."

"Well, Julie was the only mother that uh, Callie ever knew. My wife passed away last year and, uh... it's just my daughter and me now." Dr. Garrison sighed. "She's all I've got left." He looked away sadly. "Um, excuse me. I've gotta get back to work."

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

Dr. Garrison nodded and walked away. We let him make some distance between us, and then we started walking back toward the front door.

"Well, you're right. It's Snow White in spades," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "Yup. Stepmom poisons the girl, puts her into a deep sleep. What's the motive you think?"

Dean shrugged. "Could be like Mischa Barton."

Sam looked at Dean, confused.

"'Sixth Sense' not 'The OC,'" Dean said.

"What?" Sam asked, looking even more confused.

Dean shrugged. "Hey, you know fairy tales, I know movies. She played the pasty ghost."

I nodded. "Oh yeah. Her mom made her sick on purpose just so people would feel bad for her."

Sam smirked at me. "Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, uh... Munchausen Syndrome by Proxy." He shrugged. "Huh, could be."

"So, say all these years, Callie's been suffering silently because nobody knows the truth about what mommy dearest did," Dean said.

"And after all this time, her spirit just gets angrier and angrier, until it finally just starts lashing out," Sam said.

Dean nodded. "Right. Meanwhile, she has to listen to Dad tell her these deranged stories about a rabid wolf or a cannibalistic old lady. It's enough to drive anybody nuts."

"Okay, but how are we gonna stop her? I mean Callie's stuck here, her father's keeping her body alive," Sam said.

Dean nodded. "It does make it a bit hard to burn the bones."

"You think?" Sam smirked.

Just as we rounded the corner to the front door, two EMTs came running in with an older woman on a stretcher. She was covered in blood and cuts.

"Coming in!" one EMT yelled.

They wheeled the stretcher through the emergency doors.

A doctor rushed over quickly. "Okay, what's her status?"

"Seventy-two-year-old female sustained multiple lacerations and puncture wounds. BP is eighty over forty and falling. Sinus tachycardia," the other EMT answered.

The doctor put his hand on her neck. "Is that a bite?"

One of the EMTs nodded. "Looks like she was mauled by a mad dog or maybe a wolf?"

"What was the last story Dr. Garrison was reading Callie?" Dean whispered to us.

"'Little Red Riding Hood,'" Sam and I said in unison.

We watched as the emergency doors closed, and minutes later, the doctor pulled a sheet up over the woman's head.

Once one of the EMTs left the emergency room, Sam and Dean pulled him to the side to ask him a few questions. I hid behind a corner and peered around to see what was going on.

"Excuse me," Sam said.

As the EMT turned around, they held up their badges.

"Was she the only victim?" Sam asked.

"She was found by the side of the road, barely alive. Alone," the EMT said.

"We need to find her next of kin," Dean said.

The EMT flipped through some paperwork. "She has a granddaughter."

"Do you have an address?" Dean asked.

The EMT handed one of the papers to Dean and then walked away.

They walked over to me, and then Dean turned to Sam. "Hey, you find a way to stop Callie, all right?"

"What about you?" Sam asked.

"I'm gonna go stop the Big Bad Wolf." Dean paused for a second. "Which is the weirdest thing I've ever said." He quickly walked off, leaving Sam and me behind.

Sam elbowed my arm softly. "Come on."

We turned and started searching the halls for Dr. Garrison until we finally spotted him.

"Dr. Garrison!" Sam shouted. "I need to speak with you."

The doctor turned around, surprised. "Detective. What can I do for you?"

"Well, um... it's about Callie," Sam said hesitantly.

Dr. Garrison furrowed his brow. "My daughter? What about her?"

"You know, maybe— maybe we could sit down for a minute?" Sam asked.

"No," Dr. Garrison said, now annoyed. "What about her?"

"Okay. Well, um." Sam cleared his throat. "All right, Doctor, this isn't gonna be easy. What happened to Callie was not an accident."

"Excuse me?" Dr. Garrison snapped.

"I'm sorry, but it's true," Sam said calmly.

"You have no idea what happened to my daughter." Dr. Garrison turned and started walking away.

Sam and I followed.

"There are things you don't know, Doctor... about your wife," Sam said.

"My wife?" he asked as he continued walking.

"Doctor, your wife poisoned Callie," Sam said.

Dr. Garrison stopped and turned to us, looking distraught. "Why would you say something so horrible to me?"

Sam sighed. "Because we need your help."

Dr. Garrison became angry and pointed at Sam. "You stay away from me, and from my daughter, you understand?" He turned and walked into Callie's room.

Sam sighed. "Doctor, this isn't... please, uh—"

Dr. Garrison slammed the door in Sam's face.

I looked up at Sam. "Now what?"

Sam sighed and opened the door. We walked in and closed the door behind us.

"I'm calling Security." Dr. Garrison went to grab the phone off of the wall.

Sam quickly clamped his hand over the phone, not allowing it to be picked up. "No, listen. We don't have time to do this gently. If you don't listen, more people are going to get hurt because Callie is going to hurt them."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Dr. Garrison shouted.

"You're gonna think I'm crazy, but just understand me. Your daughter Callie is still here. She's a spirit," Sam said.

Dr. Garrison looked over at Callie sadly and sighed. "So, you've seen her too."

Sam and I looked at each other, surprised, as Dr. Garrison sat down at his daughter's side.

"I sensed her... Callie. Her presence, her scent. I even saw her standing at the foot of my bed, but I never..." Dr. Garrison paused. "Believed it, I thought I was dreaming, I—"

"It wasn't a dream," Sam said, "She looks like she did when she was eight. White dress. Red ribbon in her hair. She's been trying to talk to you."

Dr. Garrison sighed. "You're not a cop, are you?"

Sam shook his head. "No."

"Then who are you?" the doctor asked.

"Someone who knows a little bit about this kind of thing," Sam said.

Dr. Garrison shook his head. "But what you said about my wife poisoning Callie, that's—"

"Sir. Callie told us," Sam said.

"What?!" Dr. Garrison shouted.

"Not in so many words, but in her own way." Sam nodded. "She told us."

Dr. Garrison shook his head. "My wife loved Callie. So how is— how is that possible?"

"I don't know. But it is," Sam said.

Dr. Garrison shook his head, getting upset again. "No. No, I— I don't believe you."

"Look, Callie is killing people. She's angry. She's desperate because nobody will listen to her. So, you have to listen to her." Sam sighed with pleading eyes. "Please, listen to your daughter."

Dr. Garrison sighed and sat down on the bed with Callie. He took her hand in his own. "It's me, Daddy. Is it true? Mommy did that to you?" He shook his head. "I— I know I wasn't listening before, but I'm listening now. Daddy's here." He sighed. "Please, honey, is— is there any way that you can tell me?"

Suddenly, Callie's spirit appeared in the corner of the room, and I nudged Sam in the side.

"Doctor..." Sam said.

Dr. Garrison looked over at us, and we nodded to Callie's spirit. She looked sad and confused.

Dr. Garrison turned to her. "Is it true?"

Callie's spirit nodded.

"Oh... I'm so sorry, baby." His voice broke. "But listen to me. You gotta stop what you're doing, okay? You're hurting people. I know everything now. I know the truth. It's time for you to let go. It's time for me... to let you go."

Callie's monitors started beeping, and Dr. Garrison turned to her, caressed her face, and kissed her forehead. The monitors continued beeping and then flatlined. Dr. Garrison wept over Callie's body as Sam and I watched mournfully. I held Sam's hand as we watched Callie's spirit disappear, and then we left the room, letting Dr. Garrison mourn in peace.

After Dean met up with us, Dr. Garrison joined us, and Dean explained what had happened when he found the granddaughter.

The man with the Wile E Coyote tattoo was there. The girl was terrified of him but didn't know where he had gone. As Dean tried to get her out of the house, the man attacked him, and they got into a huge fight, but after a while, everything changed, and the man didn't even know where he was or what was going on.

"And the girl's okay?" Dr. Garrison asked.

Dean nodded.

Dr. Garrison sighed. "So... it's really over."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. All thanks to you."

"Callie was the most important thing in my life. But I should've let her go a long time ago," Dr. Garrison said, sadly.

Dean nodded. "See ya 'round, Doc."

Dr. Garrison sighed shakily. "I sure hope not." He patted Dean on the shoulder and walked away.

After Dr. Garrison had disappeared from view, Dean broke the silence. "Ya know what he said? Some good advice."

"Is that what you want us to do, Dean? Just let you go?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't answer but raised his eyebrows and looked at Sam for a long moment. He then turned and walked away, leaving Sam and me to watch him walk down the hallway alone.