Hell To Pay

by belladonna78

Sequel to 'All Hell Breaks Loose'. Beth is now reeling from the fact that Dean sold his soul in order to get her out of the deal she made with the crossroads demon to bring Sam back to life. How will they cope with the sobering thought that in a year's time, Dean is going to Hell, and there's nothing they can do about it? Dean/OC. Slightly AU. Rated MA for smut

8. Red Sky At Morning - First Blood

She sits in her corner
Singing herself to sleep
Wrapped in all of the promises
That no one seems to keep
She no longer cries to herself
No tears left to wash away
Just diaries of empty pages
Feelings gone a stray
But she will sing

Til everything burns
While everyone screams
Burning their lies
Burning my dreams
All of this hate
And all of this pain
I'll burn it all down
As my anger reigns
Til everything burns

---

RED SKY AT MORNING - FIRST BLOOD

---

Impala

"So I've been waiting since Maple Springs. You got something to tell me?" Dean said into the silence of the car. We had been driving for the last few hours and he'd obviously been stewing on something. Like a closed book, Dean hadn't shared his thoughts with me, and I had been quietly wondering if he were still thinking about the semi-breakdown I'd had before we'd left.

"Me?" I asked, frowning at the back of his head as if he had eyes there. Of course it was me, one didn't just flip out and yell her head off at the man who had sold his soul for her, and expect that there wouldn't be repercussions. I bit my lip, wondering if perhaps he could see me for the flawed human being I was, and that maybe, just maybe he would agree to get out of this damn deal and let me go to Hell like originally planned.

"No, not you babe," he answered, looking gently at me in the mirror before turning his serious hazel eyes toward the man sitting next to him. "Sam." This was said quite pointedly as he looked over at our brother.

Sam looked back at him like the kid who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and shrugged. "It's … not... your birthday." He said, clearly playing dumb about something going on. I gazed curiously at the two men, becoming aware that something had occurred which I'd missed while we were at Maple Springs.

"No," Dean said with narrowed eyes, his voice gravelly and hard.

"Happy... Purim?" Sam said jokingly. "Dude, I don't know. I have no idea what you're talking..."

"There's a bullet missing from the Colt." Dean said and I looked up from the closed journal I had been turning over in my hands, it still remained closed and had for weeks now.

"What?" I asked curiously, leaning forward a little so as not to miss the conversation.

"You want to tell me how that happened?" Dean said. "Because I know it wasn't me, and I know it wasn't Beth. So unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans..."

"Dean..." Sam muttered warningly.

I looked at Sam, my heart leaping to my throat. Had he done it? Did he go through with the plan? "You went after her, didn't you?" I asked, amazed that he hadn't involved me. It had been my plan in the first place, not that I was about to admit that to Dean.

"The Crossroads Demon?" Dean asked, frowning at me with a look that clearly said he wasn't pleased I knew something about this. "After I told you both not to."

"Yeah, well..." Sam didn't get a much of a chance to answer.

"You could have gotten yourself killed!" Dean snapped, his voice rising in clear indication that he was unsettled and angry at the sequence of events that had brought us to this moment.

"I didn't," Sam answered, as if the fact that he were sitting here in front of us was good enough measure for having put his life on the line in the first place. I was just angry that I hadn't been able to do it, I would have easily and willingly put a bullet through the eyes of that Crossroads Demon, just to watch her die.

"And you shot her?" I asked, eyes wide.

Sam shrugged and raised an eyebrow at me. "She was a smartass." I nearly laughed, but Dean was anything but in a joking mood.

"So what does that mean? Is Dean out of his dead?" I asked, hopeful, knowing in my heart that it simply couldn't be that easy. Since when was life simple for the Winchesters? Things didn't work that way for us, it was as if there was only so much happiness allowed in our lives and somehow, inexplicably, we'd reached that quota.

I had started to wonder if loving Dean had used up all my happiness allotment: the feelings I had for him so strong and adoring that just looking at him made my soul sing with joy. It was ridiculously cliché and I hated that most of all, but there was no denying it. Somehow this man, who rode around in a '67 Impala, ganking all manner of creatures that went bump in the night, and swilling beer and pie in copious amounts that couldn't be healthy, had made the Prince Charming pedestal.

I was completely smitten, even after all this time, and if I was perfectly honest – I had been from the day I met him. I wanted to believe in soul mates like my mother had: I wanted to lay claim to Dean as mine, and only mine, but I wasn't sure. God was playing a particularly cruel joke on us if we were, because our lives together had been anything but perfect.

"Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact?" Sam said with a grim amused look. "No. Someone else holds the contract." This got my attention and Dean's at the same time.

"Who?" Dean asked, glancing over, the tone in his voice showing that perhaps he was a little more willing to seek out an end to this deal than he had been a few days ago. Maybe my vow to get him out of Hell, come what may, had got him thinking. Surely he wouldn't expect anything less, he would move Heaven and Earth to get to Sam or me if the situation were reversed, and I wasn't about to leave him to rot in Hell if we could do something about it.

"She wouldn't say," Sam answered and I sank back into the back seat with a sigh.

"Well, we should find out who." Dean said. "Of course, our best lead would be the Crossroads Demon...Oh... wait a minute..."

"That's not funny..." Sam said deadpan.

"No it's not!" Dean snapped. "It was a stupid freaking risk, and you shouldn't have done it!"

"I shouldn't have done it?" Sam asked, shaking his head. "You're my brother Dean. And no matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as Hell not gonna apologise for it, all right?"

Dean looked sullenly back at the road, his lips tight and angry as he shoved down whatever retort he had for Sam. I reached over and squeezed both their shoulders, letting them know in simple touch how much I loved them both. They both exchanged a look and then fell silent. Satisfied that this little tiff was over, I sat back and returned to the task at hand: John's journal.

Cole had been out in Buffalo cataloguing the storage unit, going through all the things John had stored so that we'd have some idea on what was even in there. She'd packaged this up for me and mailed it overnight express a few weeks back, but I hadn't even looked at it until now.

The journal was one I'd never seen before, smaller and not as thick as the one we carried around like our Holy Bible.

I took a breath and opened it, turning to the front page. My heart ached at the familiar handwriting that was John's and when I saw the date, it skipped a beat. It was a few days after they'd rescued me from the demon.

---

Wisconsin

Almost 12 years ago

John's POV

I made Dean drive while I rode shotgun, Sam and Elizabeth... Beth... in the back. I glanced over the seat and saw that they'd both fallen asleep, a couple of pillows against either window as they napped. Dean was sullen and silent as he watched the road, and I knew he was thinking about the last few days, just as I was. He'd had mixed emotions about bringing Beth with us, but in the end he'd told me I should do it. It had surprised me, he so rarely showed an opinion contrary to my own: it had made me pay attention.

I opened my journal and started writing, I had to get this all out. I didn't want to write about it at all, but one day she might ask, and I wanted to remember.

Patrick is dead. I arrived too late to save him. We were too far away when the call came. Even driving non stop for twenty-five hours, sharing the drive with Dean, we'd still arrived two hours too late. I'll never forget the sight before us as we entered the house.

The house had been quiet, too quiet, I'd nodded for Dean to follow me, guns drawn as we searched for Patrick and Elizabeth. The library was lit up from a skylight, the sun filtering through to an otherwise darkened room. The young girl before me, who I hadn't seen since a child, now stood tall and haughtily before the dead body of her father lying on the ground. I sucked in a breath, seeing the knife protruding from his chest, the pool of blood underneath him.

"You're too late John," she said and I paused, watching her. This wasn't Elizabeth, this was someone else. She seemed unable to move out of the small area and that drew my eyes to the ceiling. I smirked when I saw the devil's trap that Patrick had drawn on the ceiling. I inclined my head toward her with an amused look.

"Get out of the girl," I said. She laughed at me, it was like nails grating against a chalkboard, I forced myself to keep my face neutral.

"No, I don't think so. I know a few people down below that would like to get a hold of this pretty little thing... now we know about her." The demon said.

"I'm afraid I can't let that happen," I said confidently to her.

"Heh! You can't hold me here forever," she snarled at me. I put on my poker face, forcing my emotions back, deep down within.

I found Patrick dead on the floor, and Beth possessed by the very thing that had killed him. I couldn't let her see my distress at having just found one of my oldest friends dead on the floor, I had to be strong. But it wasn't easy. Patrick and Grace had been childhood friends of Mary's, and good friends to me when I got back from Nam.

Worst of all was seeing that little girl, grown to young lady, possessed. I hadn't much experience with exorcisms, but there was one that Patrick had given me a long time ago. And I used it.

I sent Dean for my journal, while I walked around the edge of the circle, assessing the demon. Patrick's body was long dead, by hours, and I cringed internally at having failed to get here fast enough. I leaned down, looking at the knife. It was unfamiliar to me, but he'd also told me about it, an ancient weapon that had been handed down through the family from so long ago no one exactly knew its origins. It was enchanted with carvings, and I pulled it out, keeping my face calm. It killed demons, I knew that, and it would kill this one. Only problem was, it would kill Elizabeth too.

The demon held out her arms, daring me.

"Go ahead John," she said. "Use it." I didn't take the bait, instead turned the knife over in my hands, looking at it. Dean returned with the journal and I flipped through to the page where I'd written the exorcism down many years earlier.

"Time to meet your maker, demon," I said simply, then started to read the Latin in front of me. "Regna terrae... cantate Deo, psallite Domino – qui fertis ascendit, super caelum..."

"You're leaving her one way or the other," I told the demon. "Now why are you here?"

"That's above your pay grade John Winchester," she said with a smirk.

I resumed reading. "...caeli ad Orientem. Ecce dabit..."

The demon started to twitch before me, and then she screamed at me in anger. Dean looked shocked and I rousted him to attention as the demon bit the girl's arm, blood welling in the wound which she caught in her hand.

"You better kill her, John. Because pretty soon all of Hell is going to know about her, and they'll be coming," she said to me. She started to chant into the blood and I realised she was using it to communicate with someone, or something. I started to read again as she chanted in a language unfamiliar to me.

The demon was exorcised, sent back to Hell, but it's left me with a dilemma. I have a fifteen year old girl with nowhere to go. I've talked to her uncle and he is too young and too stubborn to take her in, angry at the world. I'm not sure I'd want to send her there even if I could. Upon discussion with Jim Murphy, and the boys weighing in their opinions, I have decided to take her with me. I can't abandon her. I owe Patrick and Grace that much, they would have taken the boys in a heart beat if the situation were reversed. So now I have a daughter to care for too. God help me.

---

Sea Pines, Massachusetts
Gertrude Case's House

Present Day

Beth's POV

Gertrude Case was standing in front of us holding a picture of her niece, a woman who had somehow managed to drown in her own shower. The woman was around seventy years old and dressed elegantly, with her hair up in a bun at the top of her head, pearls around her neck and adorning her ears. Dean, Sam and I were all similarly dressed in suits, this was definitely an upper-class area.

"But I don't understand. I already went over all this with the other detectives," she said looking from Dean to Sam.

"Right, yes. But, see, we're with the Sheriff's Department, not the police department – different departments," Dean explained and she shrugged, the story sounded plausible enough.

"So, Mrs. Case..." Sam started, and she cut him off with a smile.

"Please. Ms Case," she said, emphasising the Ms and looking him up and down, a slight flush appeared in her cheeks as she licked her lips. Dean exchanged an amused look with me and I had to keep from chuckling as Sam started to look flustered.

"Okay. Um, Ms. Case, um... you were the one who found your niece, correct?"

She nodded. "I came home, she was in the shower," she answered.

"Drowned?" I asked, looking at her.

"So the coroner says," she said with a raised eyebrow and looking sceptical. "Now, you tell me, how can someone drown in the shower?"

I shrugged, I didn't have an answer for that. Dean looked puzzled and I grinned, his facial expressions were just priceless sometimes, made me want to kiss him right then and there for being so damn cute.

Gertrude turned her attentions to Sam, who continued with the questioning. "How would you describe Sheila's behaviour in the days before her death? I mean, did she seem frightened? Maybe she said something out of the ordinary?" He asked.

Gertrude looked at Sam curiously, then glanced between him to Dean and I.

"Wait a minute. You're working with Alex, aren't you?" She asked.

Dean and I exchanged a look and then he nodded. "Yep. Absolutely. That Alex and us, we're like this," he said, crossing his fingers.

"Why didn't you say so?" She said with a smile. "Alex has been such a comfort." Gertrude sat down in the armchair behind her, placing the photo frame on the table beside her. "But I'm sorry. I thought the case was solved," she added.

"Well, no. No, not yet," Sam said, going with the conversation.

"I see," Gertrude said with a slight frown.

"So, anyway, we were talking about your niece," Sam prompted.

"Well, yes. Sheila mentioned something quite strange before she died. She said she saw a boat," Gertrude replied with a nod.

"A boat?" I asked, curious.

"Yes. One minute it was there, then it was gone. It just disappeared right before her eyes," she answered, looking at us all. "You think it could be a ghost ship? Alex thinks it could be a ghost ship."

"Well, uh, could be," Sam said with a nod and a slightly uncomfortable smile.

"Well," Gertrude smiled at Sam. "You let me know if there's anything else I can do for you," she said reaching a hand out and tracing it slowly along Sam's hand. Sam glanced at me, looking uncomfortable and Dean snickered quietly nearby. "Anything at all," she added a little more suggestively.

---

Docks

Present Day

Beth's POV

The docks were something to behold. The water was crowded with huge yachts and other large boats in varying degrees of splendour. We walked slowly along the wooden planks, and I watched the play of water as it lapped against the bows of the boats.

"What a crazy old broad," Dean said shaking his head, taking my hand as he walked. I cast a curious gaze at the display of affection, but didn't say anything, enjoying the feel of his fingers laced through mine. Little moments like these I tucked away in my mind for later, because one day they might be all I had left.

"Why? Because she believes in ghosts?" Sam asked, frowning at him, completely oblivious to anything other than the conversation at hand.

Dean snickered. "Look at you. Sticking up for your girlfriend. You cougar hound," he teased. Sam tossed him an unimpressed look.

"Bite me," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Not if she bites you first," Dean said with a laugh, I shook my head, thinking about another aspect of the conversation we'd had with Gertrude.

"So who is this Alex? Is there anything player in town?" I asked, looking over at the two of them.

"Maybe, maybe not," Dean said with a frown. "Doesn't change our job."

"So... ghost ship?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It's not the first one sighted around here," Sam said.

"Really?" Dean asked, surprised.

"Yeah. Every thirty-seven years, like clockwork, reports of a vanishing three-mast clipper ship out in the bay. And every thirty-seven years, a rash of weird, dry-land drownings," Sam said. I looked at him, impressed. He'd been doing his homework while Dean and I had been testing out the motel room's bed.

The bed had been lumpy and a little creepy with weird stains and things that made you wonder about what that mattress had witnessed in it's obvious long life. Thankfully we'd had clean sheets to make use of, just the same we'd had to shower afterwards, which had been enjoyable by it's own standards, until the cockroaches decided to visit. We'd decided to move motels after that.

"So, whatever's happening is just getting started," I said.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed with a nod.

"What's the lore?" Dean asked.

"Well there are apparitions of old wrecks sighted all over the world. The S.S. Violet, the Griffin, the Flying Dutchman – almost all of them are death omens," Sam said.

"So, you see the ship and then a few hours later, you pucker up and kiss your ass goodbye?" Dean asked, casting a look around us at all the people passing by. I was sure there was a better way to put dying, but in Dean terms, pucker up was about as good as it was going to get.

"Basically," Sam said with a nod.

"What's the next step?" Dean asked, unusually out of a game plan for once.

"We gotta I.D the boat," Sam said and I looked over at him thoughtfully.

"Well that shouldn't be too hard. I mean, how many three-mast clipper ships have wrecked off the coast?" I asked. Sam grimaced when he looked back at me.

"I checked that too, actually. Over one hundred and fifty," Sam said. I screwed up my nose, who the hell would have thought that? Did boats just lack the ability to stay afloat during a particular time period or something. That was a lot of freaking boats! Even over a 150 year period it was one a year. I was flabbergasted, and a little overwhelmed at the thought of having to sift through the research right now.

"Wow," Dean said, equally as impressed as I was. He shook his head and looked over at Sam with a shrug.

"Yeah," Sam breathed, shaking his head back.

"Crap," I said, letting my thoughts slip out of my mouth.

"Yeah," Sam laughed.

We walked up the steps leading to the main road, and the parking space where we'd left the Impala. Dean started to look a little confused and I saw immediately what the problem was. The parking space was empty and the meter was reading expired.

"This is where we parked the car, right?" Dean asked me, pointing to the meter, the Impala was definitely not where we'd left her.

"I thought so," I said with a nod.

"Where's my car?" Dean asked, stepping into the road and holding out his hands. His voice started to rise a little, panicked. I grimaced and looked worriedly at Dean.

"Did you feed the meter?" Sam asked, and Dean looked at him like he was crazy.

"Yes, I fed the meter!" Dean snapped, stepping back on to the pavement. "Guys, where's my car? Somebody stole my car!" He said loudly as he walked away from us, Sam and I exchanged a shrug and turned around – Dean's outburst had drawn a couple of looks from passers-by and it didn't go unnoticed by Sam either.

"Hey calm down," Sam said and Dean threw his hands in the air.

"I am calmed down! Somebody stole my ca..." He stopped speaking and when I glanced back, Dean had his hands on his knees, hyperventilating.

"Dean!" I rushed over to him, Sam following. His breaths were coming in short, erratic bursts, and I realised that I'd never seen him like this. Since when did Dean have panic attacks? "Dean, you need to calm down." I said, placing my hand on his chest as Sam grabbed his arm, holding him as he attempted to catch his breath. Dean looked completely alarmed, like the missing car had just triggered something much deeper inside of him.

"Dean, hey, hey, hey. Take it easy," Sam said comfortingly, patting his brother on the back as he sucked in a few more breaths, looking at me with panic in his eyes.

"'67 Impala?" A British accent said to us, and we looked up to see Bela Talbot sauntering toward us. "Was that yours?" She asked with a smirk.

"Bela," Sam sneered and she raised an eyebrow. He moved almost imperceptibly toward her, but stopped as she came to within a yard of us.

"I'm sorry. I had that car towed," she said with a smile, looking at Dean who was suddenly straightening his back and pulling himself together.

"You what?!" Dean took a step toward her, and I pressed my hand harder to his chest, restraining him.

"Well, it was in a tow-away zone," she commented and Dean looked like he was going to hit her.

"No, it wasn't!" He said. His eyes said it all, if she came any closer, he was going to kill her, and there would be nothing further to it. Of course Bela didn't care, she just kept on goading him.

"It was when I finished with it," she said with a grin. We all looked at her, I knew I was contemplating how I could drown her in the water right now, a glance toward Dean and Sam pretty much said the same thing. I narrowed my eyes at her and sighed.

"What the hell are you even doing here?" I asked coldly, watching as her blue-grey eyes turned to look me over.

"A little yachting," Bela said flippantly, smiling and looking around at all the boats.

"You're Alex," Sam said out of the blue, and she smirked. "You're working with that old lady." He put it together like he always did, and I shook my head. Was there nothing too low that this woman would stoop to?

"Gert's a dear old friend," Bela said.

"Yeah, right. What's your angle?" Dean said sceptically.

"There's no angle. There's a lot of lovely old women like Gert up and down the eastern seaboard. I sell them charms, perform seances so they can commune with their dead cats." She replied.

"And let me guess, it's all a con?" Dean asked.

"The comfort I provide them is very real," Bela said, almost looking sincere.

"How do you sleep at night?" I practically sneered at her with a glare.

"On silk sheets," Bela replied.. "Rolling naked in money." She looked over at me curiously. "Really, Beth. I'd expected the attitude from lover boy here, but you?"

"You shot me!" I said incredulously. I still had the scars to prove it. Out of all three of us present, I think I had the most reason to hate her.

"I barely grazed you," she said dismissively, which made me want to slap her, hard, with the back of a shovel or something. She looked at Dean. "Cute. But a bit of a drama queen isn't she?" I made to move, thinking I might just punch her in the nose being that the shovel was still in the trunk of the car, which was currently missing in action, but this time Dean restrained me with an arm around my waist, looking over at Bela.

"You do know what's going on around here. This ghost-ship thing, it is real," he pointed out.

"I'm aware. Thanks for telling Gert the case wasn't solved, by the way," she said in a disappointed tone.

"It isn't," Sam said with a frown.

"She didn't know that. Now the old bag's stopped payment and she's demanding some real answers," she said, looking at us all. "Look... just stay out of my way before you cause any more trouble." She turned to leave, and then looked back at us. "I'd get to that car if I were you...before they find the arsenal in the truck. Ciao!"

She left and I watched her retreating back with a fury burning inside me.

"Can I shoot her?" I asked, my hand itching to grab the gun from the small of my back and clip one of her shoulders as payback.

Dean sighed. "Not in public," he said sadly, looking at Sam who nodded.

Damn.

---

Stillwater, Oklahoma

Almost 12 years ago

John's Journal

It's been two months since Beth joined us. She's fitting in to the family really well, just like a daughter, a sister for the boys. Dare I say it might even be good for us? I am worried about her this last week. She's sunk into a depression, not unlike what I think I went through when Mary died. I don't know how to help her other than to keep pushing her to get through it, so I have Dean getting her up, and we're training. She's learning guns now, and she's good – so good it's almost making me uncomfortable because she should be thinking about boys and prom dates and chatting on the phone with girlfriends. It worries me that her only friends are Dean and Sam, as if I haven't messed up their lives enough already. I need to get her into school again, which means getting her some fake papers because as far as the rest of the world is concerned, Beth O'Malley is dead.

Dean's POV

"Beth, hey Beth come on, get up!" I said, shaking the girl by the shoulder as she rolled over with a groan, dark brown eyes looked up at me in protest.

"Go away Dean," she muttered, pulling the pillow over her head. I grabbed it and tossed it on to the other bed.

"Get up, come on," I said, hoisting her up by the arm. She sighed and attempted to glare at me, but I just flashed her a smile and she stopped in her tracks. I snickered, she couldn't stay mad at me. Besides, it wasn't my fault and she knew it.

Beth glanced over at Dad, who was writing in his journal and looking over at us occasionally. Suddenly she steeled herself and swung her legs out of bed, looking up at me sadly.

"Come on, it'll be okay once we get started," I said, she nodded and let out a long breath. I pulled one of my hoodies over her head, because we still hadn't gotten around to getting her any decent training clothes, and she shrugged into a pair of sweatpants and tennis shoes. I looked her over as she pulled her hair into a ponytail, and then wrapped her arms around herself. Good, we were ready to go.

Dad nodded almost imperceptibly at us as we left the motel room. I started out at a brisk jog, and Beth fell in behind me, keeping pace. She was fit and I didn't have to slow for her at all, I liked that. I quickened the pace, taking us down a few walking trails into the national park nearby. No one came out here at this hour of the day, we would be completely alone.

We reached a clearing and I stopped, taking a few deep breaths before turning to her. She was bent over, hands on her knees and bringing herself back to a resting state.

"Okay, self-defence," I said to her, and she groaned. "You need to know this stuff Beth!" I said, rolling my eyes. She didn't reply, simply standing up and looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Come on, Dad's going to take you on hunts soon, you need to know this." I repeated and she nodded slowly. "Let's go over what we did yesterday."

I circled her, predator like, while she watched me. When I reached her side I lunged at her, attempting to grab her, but she was quick. She ducked out of range, and danced around me smiling.

I swung a punch at her, she blocked, another, it too was blocked. I pushed in to her, attempting to get her off balance. It worked, she tripped over a tree root and fell to the ground, helpless as I knelt over her and put a knife to the pale skin at her throat. She swallowed, staring up at me. "You're dead," I said to her grimly. She narrowed her eyes and pushed me off her.

"Again," she said, looking at me, determined. I stood up with a smile.

"That's my girl," I said, and she grinned, moving in to throw a punch at me which I easily blocked. She spun around and elbowed me in the ribs when I wasn't expecting it and chuckled as I groaned.

"I'm not your girl, I'm not anyone's girl," she said with a smirk. I huffed and stood a little straighter.

"You're still a girl," I said to her. "You need to hit harder than that."

"I don't want to hurt you," she said with a cocky grin. I snorted.

"Sugarpie, there's nothing you could do that would hurt ..." I stopped, blocking the forward kick she had just sent toward my groin. I held her ankle, looking up at her. "Well... except maybe that," I said with grin. She laughed and so I twisted her ankle and flipped her, shoving her face first into a puddle where she spluttered up muddy water.

"Dean!" She cried out, standing up, covered in mud all down her front. I laughed, she looked a sight. "God you're a prick!"

"Awww, that hurts," I said sarcastically and she glared at me. She scraped the mud from her face and flicked it at the ground.

"Fine," she said with a determined tone, falling into a defensive stance. "Let's do this," she countered, and I nodded, a smile on my face. Nothing kept this kid down for long, we just had to keep her moving, don't give her any time to think about what had happened two months ago, about how her life had changed.

I'd been hesitant at the start, torn between bringing her with us or not, but it had been nice having someone more my age around, Sammy was just... well he wasn't like me, and I couldn't get up to mischief with him because I was supposed to be watching out for him. Beth on the other hand, it was almost encouraged. Do anything with her, just keep her moving, keep her distracted, don't let her think about her dad.

"Come on," I said with a grin, thinking of something more fun than sparring. "Let's go do guns," I offered and she nodded enthusiastically. I was starting to get a little worried at how much she liked guns, but she was good with them, I'd give her that. We jogged back to the motel and Dad was waiting out the front of the room, going through the trunk of the car.

He took one look at Beth, caked in mud all down the front of her and grinned. He was so different with her, if you watched him, it did my head in sometimes because he was such a hard ass on me. I watched as he patted her on the shoulder and told her to go shower and change. Just once it might be nice to get that kind of attention from him. I shrugged it off and smiled as I watched Beth traipse inside. We were doing rifles today, I chuckled. This was going to be fun.

---

Motel Room

Present Day

Beth's POV

I was curled up on the couch reading through John's journal, Dean was watching me from the bed, curious. He'd seen me with it for a day or so now, and it hadn't passed my attention how he hadn't asked me what it was yet. Curiosity finally got the better of him as he flopped down on the couch next to me, looking over at the journal.

"Okay, spill," he said, and I looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"The book, what is so damn fascinating about it?" He asked when I didn't answer straight away.

I smiled and kissed him on the nose. "Cole found it in the storage unit, it was Dad's," I said.

"And?" He asked, looking confused.

"And it's a journal," I said to him, flipping it open to show him what had been my particular obsession since the night before.

"Dad had another journal?" Dean asked, frowning.

"No, these are pages he's removed from his other one and put into this cover," I said. Dean looked at the handwriting curiously, nodding when he recognised it as John's.

"Well why would he do that?" He asked, glancing over at me.

"It's about me," I said quietly. Dean raised an eyebrow and leaned over to get another look.

"Huh?" He said as I flipped to the front of the journal and showed him the first page.

"When you guys found me, and I came with you," I said. "Dad kept a journal about it." I fell silent, thinking about all that I'd read. "Apparently he was really debating whether or not to keep me for some time," I added.

"What?!" Dean asked, surprised.

"Well, you remember what it was like, the first few months. You know more than anyone how I didn't even want to get out of bed." I said, he nodded solemnly. It had been pretty bad in the beginning.

He leaned over and kissed me, a slight smile playing on his lips. "He made the right choice," he said, and it made me chuckle.

"You're only saying that because you scored the girl," I said, climbing into his lap and sitting to face him, my arms draped across his shoulders and around his neck.

"Mhmmm," he said with a nod, kissing my neck. I moaned and ground my hips against the perfect angle of his pelvis, the catch of his breath instilling me with desire as I looked into his eyes. Dean kissed down my collarbone and ran a hand up under my top, teasing a nipple through the bra, drawing another moan out of me.

"Mmmm," I said with a grin, leaning back slightly. He pinched the nipple between his fingers and teased me as I moved against him. I claimed his lips in a slow, lingering kiss as his hands slid down to my hips, holding me.

The door to the room opened, and Sam strolled in carrying a bag of donuts.

"Hey guys," he said, ignoring the embrace we were locked in on the couch.

"Morning Sam," I said, moving away from Dean slightly.

"So there was another murder last night," he said and that got our attention. Dean shifted and I climbed out of his lap, both of us moving to get a couple of donuts from the bag.

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, and I got an address," he said with a grin.

"That's my boy," Dean said with a smile, taking a bite out of a chocolate covered creme-filled donut. "Mmm!" He exclaimed in delight, Sam and I exchanged amused smiles.

---

Warren House

Present Day

Beth's POV

The first thing I saw when we arrived was Bela, impersonating a reporter and talking to a clearly distraught man. She had a tape recorder shoved up in his face and he was talking to her, all flustered. I took it to mean that this was the brother we'd heard about over the scanner, and as usual, Bela was right in the thick of it.

"No. Police said that he drowned, but I don't u-understand how..." He trailed off as we approached, shaking his head in confusion.

"I am so sorry for your loss, Mr Warren. Now, if you could just tell me one more time about the ship your brother saw," Bela said, pushing him for information. I skipped ahead and flashed my badge, Dean and Sam following suit. Bela gazed at me in amusement.

"Ma'am, I think this man's been through quite enough. You should go," I said, turning to toss a challenging look at the woman.

"But I just have a few more questions," she said with an innocent look and smile.

"No, you don't," Sam said sternly, staring her down.

Bela turned, staying in character and smiled at Mr Warren. "Thank you for your time," she said, glaring at us as she started to walk away.

"Sorry you had to deal with that," Dean said to Mr Warren. "They're like roaches," he added loudly enough for Bela to hear. Bela turned back and grit her teeth, rolling her eyes.

"So, we heard you say your brother saw a ship?" Sam asked, turning to the victim's brother.

"Yeah, that's right," he said.

"Did he tell you what it looked like?" Dean asked.

The man looked at us and then nodded. "It was, uh... like the old Yankee clippers. A smuggling vessel. The rakish topsail, a barkentine rigging. Angel figurehead on the bow."

"That's a lot of detail for a ship your brother saw," I pointed out, looking at him curiously.

"My brother and I were night diving," he said to me. "I saw the ship too."

Sam was looking behind us and nudged Dean. Bela was talking to the real police and pointing in our direction. Time to go.

"Right. Well, we'll be in touch," Dean said with a nod.

"Thank you," Sam said to the man as we left.

---

St George, Utah

12 years ago

John's Journal

It's Beth's first hunt tonight. Three months and I think she's ready. She's a fast learner and I'm proud of what she's achieved. She can easily outshoot Sam already, not that he's showing that much interest in guns right now. Dean has been working with her night and day, he's determined to get her ready to fight with us. There's a running joke, since she doesn't cook – just like the rest of us – that if she can't cook she needs to earn her keep through fighting. I think she's happier with the idea of fighting.

John's POV

We were hunting a skinwalker, he'd been in the area for a few weeks now, taking on the forms of other people and then entering their homes, slaughtering them in their sleep. I didn't know what drove these creatures to homicide, but it was nearly always the same thing whenever we came across them.

I looked at Beth, she was dressed in jeans and black hoodie and flashed me a nervous smile.

"You ready?" I asked. It was just her and me tonight, first hunt alone and I wanted her focused, not worrying about Dean or Sam.

She nodded and looked a little excited. I chuckled. "Come on then," I said.

I knelt down on the patio and picked the lock on the door. I had tracked the skinwalker to this house and I was certain it was inside. The door creaked eerily in the quiet of the night. My flashlight lit up the house enough to see, and we progressed, both with guns and silver bullets in hand, silver knives sheathed to our arms.

There was a noise upstairs and I nodded toward the stairway. Beth took the lead, moving silently as I followed. She paused at the landing, just as I'd trained her, listening for where she had to go next.

A whimper sounded in the bedroom and she moved quickly down the hallway toward it, I brought up the rear. With a deep breath, Beth pushed open the bedroom door and we came across a disturbing sight. The parents were tied to the bed, gagged, and standing over them was a young boy about Beth's age brandishing a knife. He'd already slashed at the father: he was alive, but wouldn't be for much longer. The kid looked over at us, hearing Beth's rapid breathing and then he fell down beside the bed.

"Don't hurt me!" He said holding his hands up.

"Beth, don't listen to it," I said sternly.

The mother was whimpering and struggling against her bonds. I moved toward her and started to cut at the ropes around her wrist. Beth was staring at the boy whose hands were covered in blood.

"I'm innocent!" The boy professed, despite it having been quite clear he wasn't.

Beth circled around, watching the boy. Without warning he lunged at her with a knife, and slashed her forearm. She cried out, grabbing him and spinning him into the wall.

"Kill it!" I ordered Beth, "Now!" But she froze, and the boy took the advantage, he grabbed her knife, disarming her in the confusion and threw himself at me, stabbing me in the shoulder. I rolled him to the ground and brought out my own knife, gritting my teeth against the pain as I rammed it into his chest. The boy fell to the floor, dead.

I looked up at Beth and sighed, she was staring in horror at the boy.

The skinwalker hunt didn't go as planned, Beth froze, and she nearly got herself killed because of it. Had the skinwalker managed to get the better of me, she would have definitely been next. It terrifies me to think of the danger I put her in, that I put her in every day – but she's got to learn. If she's going to come with us, I need her ready, I need her hardened against the things that go bump in the night.

Maybe this was a mistake, bringing her with us. She's a girl, and she knows nothing of the horrors that are out there. Yes, she has endured possession and the killing of her father and still she hasn't broken. I'll give her that, but at the end of the day – if she's going to freeze, can we have her with us? Can she protect herself, can she protect her brothers? She's always done really well on the group hunts, but I'm very afraid that she might come to harm if she hunts alone, or in a pair. I went hard on her tonight, real hard, I probably pushed too far, but it had to be done. She cannot be allowed to falter, I have a responsibility for her safety now.

"What if that had been Sammy?" I snapped at Beth, who was sitting on the couch quietly, tears running down her face. "You could have gotten him killed! You don't hesitate when I give you an order! You knew that kid was dangerous! You could have gotten those people killed! You could have gotten yourself killed!"

She flinched and covered her face with her hands, sobbing.

"Dad, come on! Leave her alone," Dean said and I glared at him.

"No, Dean. She needs to learn, just like you did." I said sternly, looking at Beth, assessing her.

"I can't trust you in the hunts if you are going to freeze Beth, you have to be better than that, stronger than that, you have to follow orders." I said, resuming pacing and lecturing her at the same time.

"He was just a kid!" She said softly, and Sam came to sit on the couch with her, holding her hand, she looked at him with a slight smile and I sighed.

Patrick and I disagreed on how to raise the kids. When Mary died he wanted me to stay with them, but I wasn't in a space for that. Yes, they took the boys for a few weeks so I could get my head around things, but at the end of the day no one was going to protect them like me. It would be years before I discovered that he'd known more about hunting than he'd ever let on. It wasn't until Grace died that I learned he was a demon hunter, had been since a teen – in fact, he confessed that the three of them: him, Grace and Mary had gone on many hunts together. I was floored, I'd never even suspected, and he said Mary had wanted it that way.

When I said I would take the boys on the road after Mary died, he argued with me. It wasn't until Grace disappeared that he started to realise the value of moving around. Even then he only moved annually, keeping Beth in schools and trying to give her a 'normal' life. This is half the problem, these kids aren't normal kids, at least they can't be allowed to be if they are going to survive. Beth doesn't know how special she is, and she needs to be stronger. Patrick wouldn't do it, he was too soft on her, and it's left me with no other choice than to be the bad guy.

"You can't let what you see cloud your judgement. You have to trust your gut, you have to follow those instincts. You knew he was dangerous, you still hesitated." I said, dropping my voice just slightly.

She nodded, the tears had stopped and she was pulling herself together again. I had a moment to think how proud I was of her, most fifteen year old girls couldn't do it; but I couldn't be soft, I had to be firm with her, I had to make her better than that, I had to make her a protector, a warrior.

"It's late, let's all get some sleep, tomorrow we start again. Sam you're on the couch, it's too small for me or Dean," I looked over at Dean who was lounging on one of the beds, arms crossed and scowling. "You bunk with your sister," I said, moving to the other bed, shrugging out of my jacket and shoes. I changed while Beth was in the bathroom doing the same thing, donning some sweatpants and a t-shirt. I slipped under the crisp sheets and let my fatigue wash over me; it had been a long day.

Beth came out of the bathroom looking physically and emotionally exhausted, her eyes were red and puffy from crying and her hair hung in untidy strands around her face. She crawled into bed and I watched quietly in the semi-darkness as she tossed and turned in bed. Eventually Dean rolled over and pulled her in to him; I frowned at the gesture. I'd seen Sam do it many times, she had so many nightmares, but I'd never seen Dean initiate the contact.

I watched, pensive, waiting for something more to happen. Dean was no stranger with the girls, and I was paranoid something was going to start here, that would be a massive problem. Dean whispered something in her ear and she started sobbing quietly, rolling in to him. He put his arms around her and held her, much like Sam did when she was upset from a nightmare. Only this time wasn't from a nightmare, this had been my doing – and that much I was reminded of with the glare Dean threw me in the darkness.

I sighed and realised there was nothing going on except Dean being a protective big brother, and I let it go, rolling over and closing my eyes to the encroaching deep sleep that was wanting to take me under. I was seriously getting too old for this shit.

---

Warren House

Present Day

Beth's POV

A short while later I had a shotgun in my hands and the familiar, comforting feel of its weight helped soothe my troubled mind. I slipped a shell into the chamber, loading the gun and snapped the barrel closed again. My mind was a million miles away, lost in the clouds of time thanks to the journal I had been reading. I thought about the last entry I'd read and the lecture John had given me that night, grimacing. I'd come so far since then.

Dean walked over, his hazel eyes watching me as I tested the weight of the gun in my hands. I looked up at him and smiled, he had no idea what a life saver he was to me, I was thankful every single day for him.

"Hey," he said, leaning in to place a soft kiss on my lips. I stared up into those intoxicating eyes and felt my heart soften. "What you thinking about?" He asked.

"You," I said simply. Dean's eyes took on the cocky, self-assured look they often did when he would look at me smugly as if to say. 'You know I'm a God, right?' I chuckled, watching him.

"What amazing thing have I done for you this time that has you so distracted?" He asked and I snorted.

"Hmmm, nothing much lately," I teased. "But I was thinking about what you said to me that night Dad bitched me out when I failed to kill the skinwalker." Dean grimaced, his eyes taking on the concerned look that he'd given me that night.

"He was a bit rough on you, I didn't approve," he said quietly, his voice wavering just a little. It had affected him more than he let on to see John yelling at me, but he'd stilled his objections.

"He was right though," I conceded. "I could have gotten him killed."

Dean was thoughtful, looking up from his gun, to take in our surroundings.

"Do you remember what you said to me?" I asked and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Do I look like I remember what I said to you? All I remember is you kept me up half the night until I pinned you down to go to sleep," he grinned, shaking his head.

I felt the corners of my mouth twitch into a grin, rolling my eyes at him. "You make it sound so onerous, but you know, I'd be willing to bet you didn't mind pulling me up against you like you did..." I said, trailing off. I leaned back toward him, breathing along his jawline and trailing soft kisses as I went.

"Maybe," he said with a grin. "But you know, a blubbering mess of a teen in my arms was hardly a turn on...especially dressed in those daggy old sweatpants and t-shirt you had on." I was taken aback by the detail.

"You do remember!" I said curiously.

"Every word sugarpie," he said, looking at me with the same caring eyes he had that night. He'd grabbed me, and pulled me in to him, held me close. If I closed my eyes, I could almost hear the words whispered in my ear. 'Go to sleep. I'm not going to let anything hurt you, I'll always have your back. That much you can count on."

I trailed my gaze over his face, years had aged him, but in a good way. He stood before me, boy grown into man, the same self-assured presence he'd had the whole time I'd known him.

"Well isn't this nice," Bela's voice sounded behind me and my hands instinctively tightened on the gun I was holding. I closed my eyes, fighting back the urge to turn and shoot her.

"I see you got your car back," she said to Dean, her bluish-grey eyes tracing along his arm to the shotgun in his hands.

"You really want to come near me when I got a loaded gun in my hands?" Dean asked, beating me to it. I kept quiet because the woman elicited a fury in me that left me speechless, and at the end of the day, bitch or not, she was still human and off limits: even if she would have left us high and dry to suffer horribly unlucky deaths the last time we saw her.

"Now, now. Mind your blood pressure," Bela said with a little smile. "Why are you even still here? You have enough to I.D the boat."

"That guy back there saw the ship," Sam said as if it was perfectly clear what we were doing. It was, to someone who had a heart, but I wasn't convinced that Bela fell into that category. She was like the snake who slipped into the garden of Eden, tempting Eve with the forbidden fruit: so long as she got her way, and made a profit, she'd sell her own soul to see the deal done.

"Yeah? And?" Bela replied to Sam, only strengthening my already poor opinion of the woman.

"And he's going to die, so we have to save him," Sam said, looking at her like she was mad.

"How sweet," Bela said with a smirk, smiling broadly at Sam.

"You think this is funny?" I asked, my voice low and irritated. Bela turned to look at me, amusement written all over her face.

"He's cannon fodder," she said, shaking her head. "He can't be saved in time, and you know it." Dean looked over at Sam who was shaking his head. Sam turned on his heel and walked away from Bela, moving toward the front of the car, Dean followed suit, leaving me standing there, gun still in my hands, Dean's earlier words of 'Not in public' running through my head.

"Yeah, well, see, we have souls, so we're gonna try," Dean snapped at her and she watched him as he opened the car door.

"Yeah, well I'm actually going to find the ship and put an end to this," Bela retorted. "But you have fun!" My stomach turned as I watched her, seeing a little sense to her plan. John had always taught me to follow my gut, but I wasn't happy that Bela seemed to be taking the more affirmative action in this case. I watched her quietly while Dean walked back toward her, jumping in with his usual goading.

"Hey, Bela, how'd you get like this, huh? What, did Daddy not give you enough hugs or something?" He asked and she turned her steely gaze to look at him.

"I don't know, your Daddy give you enough?" She asked, raising her eyebrow and meeting him quip for quip. "Don't you dare look down your nose at me. You're not better than I am."

Dean's green eyes met mine for a brief moment, and something flashed behind there, a doubt that was always there even though he truly did believe what he was about to say. I knew what he would say, because it was the same line we always threw back at people when they questioned the Winchester family about their motives.

"We help people," Dean said, his eyes flashing angry.

"Oh come on," Bela said sceptically. "You do this out of vengeance and obsession. You're a stone's throw from being a serial killer." Dean turned to look at Sam, who was glaring silently at the woman. An amused look upon his face, Dean turned back with a furrowed brow, almost rolling his eyes at Bela. "Whereas I, on the other hand, I get paid to do a job and I do it. So, you tell me – which is healthier?"

"Bela, why don't you just leave?" Sam asked, looking tired and fed up with the woman. "We've got work to do."

"Yeah. You're zero for two. Bang-up job so far," she commented, and I stared at her, fighting back the unusual homicidal rage coming up inside of me. She frustrated me, then again, most people did these last few weeks. I was putting it down to the ticking time bomb inside my head. I was unable to assuage my anger, my terror at what was slowly moving closer and closer, so I wanted to take it out on anyone around me who I deemed worthy.

With a final smirk, Bela turned on her heel and walked away, her long brown hair swishing down her back as she reached her car and climbed in.

---

Peter Warren's House

Later that night

Dean's POV

Beth had her nose buried in the journal again. Sam was researching on the computer and I was staring at the house we were staking out. Just another perfectly good Thursday evening at the Winchesters.

"Anything good?" I asked Sam, looking over at the screen. Sam sighed and shook his head. I looked back out the window to see Peter moving around in the house with a box.

"No, not really," Sam said. "I mean, both brothers are Duke University grads. No criminal record. I mean, a few speeding tickets. They inherited their father's real estate fortune six years ago.

"How much?" I asked, looking at him.

"$112 million," Sam said. I whistled, impressed.

"Nice life," Beth commented from the back, not looking up from the journal, but obviously listening to what we were saying.

Sam glanced back at her. "Yeah. I mean, nice, clean, above board. So why did they see the ship?" Beth snapped the journal closed and put it back in her bag, leaning forward to rest her arms on the front seat.

"Why Sheila too? What do they all have in common?" She asked.

"Maybe nothing," I offered with a shrug, maybe the clipper was appearing to people at random and it was just bad luck.

"No. There's always something," Sam said quietly, reading the files on the screen again.

"Hey you!" Peter Warren had moved out of the house and spotted us, he pointed and came running down the paved driveway to the security gate.

"I think we've been made," I said to the others, and we all climbed out of the car and approached him.

"What are you guys doing?! You watching me?" Peter asked in an agitated state. I had to wonder if there were more to it than just finding us parked out the front of his home.

"Sir, calm down. Please," Sam said.

"You guys aren't cops! Not dressed like that. Not – not in that crappy car," Peter said.

I looked at him and raised my eyebrow. "Whoa, hey. No need to get nasty," I said with a smirk. He could just leave Baby out of this, she hadn't done anything to him. Beth snickered next to me, sobering when I gave her a look that decreed I was not impressed with her laughter – insulting my car was no laughing matter!

"We are cops, okay?" Sam placated, holding his hands out. "We're undercover. We're here because we think you're in danger." Peter stopped long enough to throw us a questioning look.

"From who?!" He asked, still agitated.

"If you just settle down, we'll talk about it," Sam said, but it was a useless attempt, something had obviously gotten the guy riled, I kind of had to wonder if it was as simple as two guys and girl sitting in a car opposite his house.

"Look, you guys just stay away from me!" Peter said, starting to walk back toward the house.

"Wait," Sam said, tossing me an exasperated look.

"Hey, you moron!" I yelled at him. "We're trying to help you!" Beth shook her head at me, and I agreed, it wasn't going to help matters with the tone and words, but he wasn't listening anyway and it felt good to call him a moron.

Peter ran to his car and got in, driving off. Before he even made it to the gate however the car stalled and Peter started to look alarmed.

"That can't be good," Beth said and I nodded.

"Get the salt gun," I said as Sam and I tried to get inside the fence. Beth ran for the car as I gave Sam a boost over the fence, jumping up to manoeuvre myself over and follow him.

The doors to the car were locked as we reached it and inside Peter had just collapsed against the steering wheel after spitting up a bunch of water.

"Peter!" Sam said, beating at the window and trying to open the door. Beth ran up behind us carrying two guns.

"Dean!" She called out, tossing me one. I cocked it as soon as I caught it, turning it to the window. A ghostly face looked back at me from the passenger seat. It was a spirit dressed in old seaman's clothes and a navy coat. I pulled the trigger and shattered the glass, the spirit disappeared.

Beth moved in beside me, holding her own shotgun. With the spirit gone, Sam was able to get the door open and check the vitals of Peter, feeling around for a pulse. He looked up at us and shook his head, nothing, the man was well and truly dead. I kicked the door in frustration, we had been right here!

---

Dallas, Texas

12 years ago

John's Journal

I got Beth into school, finally. It wasn't easy, there's a ridiculous amount of paperwork you need to supply to do that. She's using her mother's maiden name. I debated making her a Winchester, but there's too much of a paper trail with the boys, someone might pick up something in their student transcripts and start wondering just where a sister had cropped up. So we're using the cover that she's a stepsister.

John's POV

I'd been called to the school, something about Dean beating up a kid. I cursed his hot headedness. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten into a fight, but he was usually smart enough to do it off school grounds where officials wouldn't have to be involved. They'd said Beth had been involved too, and that had me a little concerned, every day I kept questioning my sanity over bringing her with us: especially when stuff like this happened.

The school corridors were now empty of children, they'd all gone home for the day. Sam was sitting out the front of the Principal's office, his head buried in a book while he waited for his brother and sister who had been detained until I got there.

"Sammy," I said as he looked up at me. He smiled weakly at me and shrugged.

"What's going on Dad?" He asked, glancing at the door opposite him. "Why are Dean and Beth in there?"

"I'm about to find out," I said with a sigh, ruffling his hair. "Just hang here for a little longer, okay?" He sighed and nodded, turning back to his book.

I turned and knocked on the door, turning the handle and letting myself in as someone called out for me to enter. I was used to old tired schools, filled with the dirt and grime of time having passed with little more to offer than a sad tale of lives unfulfilled, sporting nothing more than broken dreams.

This office however spoke of money, and lots of it. Even as a public school, there were pristine white walls, and perfectly covered floors – linoleum, but in perfect condition. The chairs in the room matched the desk, and a couch was propped against the side wall for extra visitors.

The couch currently contained Beth, curled up with her knees to her chest, chin resting on them while she hugged herself, eyes all red from having been crying. I frowned, looking at Dean who was pacing the room, his body a tightly coiled spring ready to pounce.

"Sit down young man," the Principal said, glasses perched upon the bridge of her nose as she stared at Dean moving around the room. Dean glanced over as I entered the room, and threw himself into a chair with a glare.

"Ma'am," I said, looking at the woman, her hair rolled into a knot at the base of her neck, she waved me into the remaining seat, turning pale blue eyes to me.

"Mr Winchester, I'm Sally Doyle," she started, shaking my hand. "I'm afraid we've had an incident, and I need to start by saying that here at Dallas High we simply don't condone the kind of vigilante violence that we witnessed from your son..."

Dean snorted, interrupting her with a shake of his head. He beat his hands on the arms of the chair and I threw him a stern look. He fell quiet beside me and I looked back at the woman.

"What exactly happened?" I asked, not liking the way this was sounding.

"Your son started a fight with one of the students in his class," she said and again Dean huffed.

"Yeah, right," he muttered, again I looked at him and he fell silent.

"What have I told you about fighting Dean?" I asked, I was clearly going to have to lecture him again on the need to keep a low profile.

"What? I didn't start it!" Dean snapped, and he glanced back at Beth.

"You threw the first punch," Sally said, looking at Dean sternly.

"He had it coming!" Dean responded and I sighed, running a hand along my face. They always had it coming where Dean was concerned.

"I'm sorry," Sally said, "but I simply don't believe this story you and your sister have concoct..."

"Concocted?!" Beth muttered from the couch, her voice raw and broken from crying. I glanced over at her, she was looking incredulously at the woman who shook her head sadly at Beth.

"You people have some freaking nerve," Dean snapped, standing up and storming to the back of the room before spinning around. He moved toward the desk, leaning on it, getting up in Sally's face. "If I hadn't arrived when I did, that bastard would have more than a broken nose, let me tell you, he'd be dead!"

Beth started crying again and Dean backed away from the woman at the desk, who was looking at him. I thought I detected a slight panic in her eyes, but it retreated and was pushed behind her cold facade when Dean went to sit with Beth, pulling her into him and resting his chin on her head.

"What the hell is going on here?" I asked, realising something was amiss.

"Your daughter, stepdaughter, has decided to join in with your son in making up some far fetched story. I'm telling you, I won't have these lies being circulated about one of our most prestigious families!" Sally said, standing up and leaning on the desk.

"What story are you claiming she's made up, exactly?" I asked, glancing over at her. Alarm bells were going off inside my head: Beth didn't make up stories, not even to save Dean's hide.

Dean made an angry noise from across the room and I met his gaze, he was seething, something had clearly gone wrong here.

"Prestigious Boy decided it was well within his rights to pull her into the toilets and have his way with her," Dean said. "And his little circle of frat wannabes were there egging him on."

"Now, just a minute..." Sally objected.

"Is this true?" I snapped at her, she looked at me, fear in her eyes. I knew in an instant what was going on here. Money. Money talks and bullshit walks, and there was a fair amount of both being thrown around here.

"When she managed to fight him off, the bastard pulled a gun on her," Dean continued, and Beth shuddered, recollecting the moment. "A freaking gun! In a school?!" He glared at the woman.

"We found no evidence..." she stared, but Dean was on a roll.

"You think I was gonna let him keep it?!" Dean snapped, cutting off what she was going to say. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a standard .45 beretta and leaned forward to hand it to me. I took it by the grip and looked it over, popping the clip to see that he'd already emptied the ammo out. Good boy.

"This is hardly standard issue school attire, even for Texas," I commented to Sally, who had turned a shade whiter.

"If I hadn't happened to walk in at the exact right moment..." Dean muttered, looking at Beth and pulling her closer to him. I frowned, unhappy with where he'd been going with his story. I was starting to notice a few things out of place now. A ripped skirt, and Beth was currently wearing Dean's overshirt, so I didn't even want to know what had happened to the top she'd had on.

"Scott Preston is a fine, upstanding young man in our community. He has never been accused of anything of the sort, I find it very hard to believe..."

"You mean, he's just never been caught," I muttered, standing up. I walked over to Beth and knelt down in front of her, she met my gazing unflinchingly.

"Is it true?" I asked softly. She nodded, sniffing and sitting up a little straighter. I scowled. God dammit. My kids were supposed to be safe at school! What? Did I have to be with them twenty-four seven in order to ensure their safety? I glanced back at the closed door, suddenly a little concerned about Sammy sitting out there all on his own, there was still the added situation of a rugaru running around somewhere in town too.

"Mr Winchester," Sally said, looking over at me. "I have managed to convince the boy's father not to press charges, but I'm afraid you're going to have to withdraw the children from our school, we simply cannot have this kind of behaviour occurring within our walls."

"You've convinced him...?" I looked at her incredulously. "What about my daughter?" I asked angrily, standing up and spinning to face her. "What about what would have happened to her if Dean hadn't walked in on them?"

"Well, it's simply their word against that offered by all four of our finest families," she said, spelling it out. I sucked in a breath, and turned back to the kids.

"Right, I get it," I said, fuming. "Let's go kids." Sally breathed a sigh of relief, barely imperceptible, but it was there. I sighed, there was nothing I could do here. I just had to pull the kids out and leave – too much money in this town to effect a change.

Dean scowled, standing up and pulling Beth to her feet. We exited the room, and Sammy joined us, looking on curiously as I stormed down the hallway.

A man and his son exited the nurses station as I neared it, and he had the nerve to turn on me.

"Hey! Hey!" He said, walking up in his perfect black suit and tie, not a hair out of place, expensive watch on his wrist. I stopped and looked at him, Dean and Beth lulling behind as she started to breathe faster at the sight of the young man, whose nose was currently plastered. Dean had obviously done a good job in breaking it, I smirked, for the first time proud of the fact that Dean had gotten into a fight.

"I'm going to nail your son's ass to the wall over this! My son has a modelling contract, he had an important shoot in two days!" The man said, getting in my face and shoving me back.

"He ought to be thankful a broken nose is the only thing he's sporting after what he tried to do to my daughter," I said darkly, and the man paused, glancing over at Beth and taking in the sight of her.

He smirked, looking at me. "My son doesn't have to force a girl into anything, look at him! If anything, she's just trying to defend her honour when in reality she was asking for it."

There was the sound of bones crunching. I didn't even remember moving, I saw the aftermath however. Blood spurted out from the nose of the man, and his son ran to grab him. He roared in fury and pain, holding his nose.

"You bastard!" He cried, "I'm going to have your ass mounted on my wall!"

"Just try it you son of a bitch," I said, my voice dropping an octave. "Because I'm willing to bet this isn't the first time golden boy has tried to take something he wasn't offered. If I dig deep enough, I bet I can uncover a whole closet full of skeletons, and I'm not above going to the media with it. I'm sure they'd have a field day with the information, a nice, prestigious family like yours." They were empty threats, but I had a good poker face.

He bought it. Standing up, the man backed away, staring at me.

"Get out of my town," he snarled, turning on his foot and shoving his son toward the door. I turned to see the kids staring at me with grins on their faces. I sighed. Sometimes it just wasn't worth getting out of bed in the morning.

John's journal continued...

Thankfully, Beth is a smart girl. I've altered her birth documents to put her the same age as Dean – as a stepsister we can pull this off. She'll be in his classes from now on. It's the only way I can ensure that she has him with her as protection. I don't want a repeat of what happened in Dallas. I've upped her hand to hand combat training against more than one attacker, because in the case of something like that attack happening again, she needs to be able to defend herself. Groups will always be an issue, but it's just a matter of her getting stronger, she has the skills, she just needs to use them. I think I'm almost ready to try her on a hunt again.

---

Impala

Present Day

Beth's POV

The radio was blaring across the speakers and a couple of weathermen were discussing the incoming bad weather, everyone needed to be battening down the hatches, and here we were heading straight into the storm.

Dean reached a hand across to the dash and shut off the radio, looking into the back seat where Sam was sitting, staring out the window.

"Do you want to say it, or should I?" Dean asked.

"What?" Sam asked sullenly.

"You can't save everybody, Sam." Dean said, turning back to the road.

"Yeah, right, so – so what, you feel better now or what?" Sam asked. He had been very quiet since we left the house, and had that sour expression on his face that was all too common these days.

"No, not really," Dean answered with a shrug.

"Me neither," Sam said with a sigh.

Dean turned back, exchanging a glance with me before looking at Sam again. "You gotta understa..."

"It's just lately, I feel like I can't save anybody!" Sam interrupted, and I turned in my seat to look at him sympathetically. I knew what he meant, this search for a way out, to save Dean, it was taking its toll on everyone, Dean included, even though he'd never admit it.

We fell silent, nothing more to say. I sighed, leaning back in my seat and watching the lights of the houses rush by.

---

Holiday House

The Next Morning

Beth's POV

We'd acquired a house for the duration of our stay. A holiday home that no one was using currently.

It was morning and I was reading John's journal again while Sam was on the laptop doing research. Dean was playing with his phone, scrolling through contacts or something. We were at a loss as to where to start for the day.

A knock sounded at the door, all of us looking up at the same time. Dean stretched his legs and stood up, shaking his body a little to work out the tightness from sitting for too long as he strode across the room. He looked through the little window at the door, and then rolled his eyes at Sam and I.

Sam grabbed a gun and put it in his lap before nodding to Dean. I sat up, tucking my own gun down the side of the couch behind a cushion, putting the journal under another cushion for safe keeping. Without any fanfare he opened the door, swinging it wide.

Bela was standing on the other side with a smirk on her face, she walked through the door, looking around.

"Dear God, are you actually squatting?" She asked with an amused tone. No one answered her. "Charming," she said with a raised eyebrow as Dean closed the door behind her. "So, how did things go last night with Peter?"

Again none of us responded, and she glanced between the faces of each one of us. "That well, huh?"

"If you say 'I told you so', I swear to God I'll start swinging," Dean muttered, glaring at the woman. I chuckled, I was going to go one up on him, I was going to shoot her – we weren't in public anymore.

"Look, I think the four of us should have a heart to heart," she said.

"That's assuming that you have a heart," I quipped back at her, standing up, making no effort to hide the small hand pistol I was holding.

"Beth, please... I'm sorry about what I said before, okay? I come bearing gifts," she said.

"Such as?" Sam asked, watching her from where he was still seated.

"I've ID'd the ship," she said, looking at us all. She put down the document wallet she was holding and opened it, pulling out a photo of a clipper. "It's the Espirito Santo, a merchant sailing vessel, quite a colourful history. In 1859 a sailor was accused of treason. He was tried aboard a ship in a kangaroo court and hanged. He was 37."

"Which would explain the 37 year cycle," Dean commented with a nod.

"Aren't you the sharp tack?" She smirked and got a glare for her trouble. "I have a photo of him somewhere...here." She rifled through the photos in front of her, coming up with an old black and white photo of a man standing by a ship.

"Isn't that the customer we saw last night?" Dean asked, handing me the photo. I nodded, it was definitely him, maybe a drowned rat version, it was him for sure.

"You saw him?" Bela asked.

"Yeah, that's him, except he was missing a hand," Dean commented, and I raised an eyebrow at him. I'd failed to notice.

"His right hand?" Bela asked.

"How'd you know?" Sam asked, apparently he'd seen it too. Damn, was I really that distracted lately that something so obvious had slipped my attention?

"The sailor's body was cremated," Bela said grimly. "But not before they cut off his hand to make a hand of glory." She said. I leaned forward, this I had heard of.

"A hand of glory – didn't you give me one of those at the end of that massage last week?" Dean said suggestively to me with a chuckle. I rolled my eyes and threw him a smile, he was completely incorrigible.

"Not quite the same thing, Dean," I said with a grin. "The right hand of a hanged man is a serious cult object and very powerful," I added, looking at Bela.

"So they say," she commented.

"And officially counts as remains," Dean pointed out. We would definitely need to find and burn the hand.

"But still, none of this explains why the ghost is choosing these victims," Sam said with a shrug.

"I'll tell you why," Bela said and Sam looked at her expectantly. She rolled her eyes. "Who cares?! Find the hand, burn it and stop the bloody thing."

"I don't get it. Why are you telling us all of this?" Dean asked suspiciously, and I cast an appraising eye at her, I'd been wondering the same thing.

"Because I know exactly where the hand is," she stated.

"Where?" I asked, frowning.

"At the Sea Pines Museum. It's a crap bit of maritime history. But I need help," she said, looking at Dean.

"What kind of help?" Sam asked. Bela smirked and I knew I wasn't going to like it.

---

Later that evening

Beth's POV

I was standing in the living room, arms crossed and glaring at Bela who was dressed in a sexy little black dress. She looked up the stairs and sighed.

"What is taking so long?" She called out. "Sam's already halfway there... with his date." I grimaced, recalling the look on Sam's face when he'd found out that he was attending the charity ball at the museum with Gertrude Case. The older woman had been all too keen to take him, her little toyboy.

"So not okay with this!" Dean yelled back down the stairs and I had to stop and wonder just what part was concerning him, there were so many things that were troubling me about this whole arrangement right now. I grit my teeth and bit back a remark, sometimes you just had to take one for the team.

"What are you, a woman? Come down already!" Bela called back.

Black shiny shoes appeared at the stop of the stairs, and my eyes trailed up over classy black pants as Dean started to descend the stairs. Bela's breath caught at the sight of Dean as he reached the ground floor, completely resplendent in a black tux. I had to agree, he looked deliciously edible. I swallowed, looking at the dashing form in front of me, and glanced back at Bela.

"All right, get it out," Dean said, sighing and throwing his arms out. "I look ridiculous."

"Not exactly the word I'd use," Bela said breathlessly.

I shifted uncomfortably, turning a steely gaze toward her.

"What?" Dean asked, completely missing the undertones in her voice.

"You know, when this is over, we should really have angry sex," Bela said, completely ignoring the fact that I was in the room. Dean stared at her, a little taken aback, and then glanced at me, smiling as if to say he was about to start counting Bela as part of our phone number competition. He saw the unimpressed look on my face and turned back to Bela, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

"Don't objectify me," he said, shaking his head. "Let's go."

I followed him down the hallway and he stopped, holding the door for Bela who slipped through with a cocky smile at me. I looked around for my gun, I wasn't happy.

"You know what, suddenly I'm so not okay with this plan," I said, biting my lip. I didn't like the way Bela was looking at Dean, like she could eat him up and still be home in time for breakfast.

"Hey, you think I like being in this monkey suit... going to some fancy shindig, with her?!" Dean said, reaching a hand up to my face. "But she's got the invite sugarpie, and she wasn't budging." I sighed and nodded. Bela had stopped to look back at us exasperatedly. I glared at her and closed the door, sliding my hands around Dean's waist.

"You do look, really, really good. Good enough to eat," I said with a cheeky smile. Dean's face beamed at the compliment and he looked like he was about to primp. Instead I leaned up to him, brushing my lips across his with a sizzling heat passing between us. He moaned, leaning into the kiss and sliding a tongue between my lips to dance with my own. Hands slid around my waist and he pushed me up against the wall, moving to kiss down my neck drawing breathless gasps from me.

Bela opened the door, slamming it into Dean's side and he grunted. "Christ!" He said, "do you mind? I'm having a private moment here!"

"I can see that," Bela said with a raised eyebrow. "I promise I'll give him back Beth, if he behaves, I may even return him without too much molestation."

I sighed and looked at Dean, letting my displeasure show clearly in my eyes. He looked at me sympathetically and leaned down to kiss me once more, softly and a lot more chaste than before. "We'll be back before you know it," he said, leaning in to my ear. "You know what to do."

With another sigh I leaned back against the wall, glaring at Bela once more as they walked down the pathway.

---

Sea Pines Museum

Dean's POV

I could still see Beth's brown eyes staring at me, even when we arrived at the Museum. I was chewing nervously on some gum and Bela looked at me with great distaste.

"Are you chewing gum?" She asked, looking at me incredulously. "Try to behave as if you've lived this life before, yeah?" I sighed and spat the gum into my hand, looking around for somewhere to put it. I walked over to the fountain in the middle of the table and stuck the gum under the rim of the bowl. Bela rolled her eyes at me. One thing about Beth, she never, ever nagged me to be something I wasn't. God there was a comfort in that.

Gert and Sam walked past us and I couldn't help but notice the tight grip she had on Sam's arm. "This'll get their tongues wagging, hey my Adonis?" She said cheekily, grinning up at him.

"Just remember, we're on business," Sam reminded her, looking a little uncomfortably at me. I agreed, business, and narrowed my eyes at Bela.

"Ohhhh, but sometimes business can be pleasure, hmm?" Gert said, stroking his chest.

"Right," Sam said sighing. Bela and I walked toward the bar, and I looked over at her as Gert escorted Sam away into the crowd. I hoped she hadn't heard Gert's declaration of business and pleasure, because as far as Beth was concerned, the two of them were to stay completely separated in this instance. I didn't even want to think about what Beth would do to Bela if she tried anything. I looked at myself in the mirror against the wall, grinning, not that I could blame her for trying, I did look irresistible.

Sam came rushing back to me, looking a little anxious. "Exactly how long do you expect me to entertain my date?" He asked, glancing back at Gert who was eyeing him off from across the room.

"As long as it takes," Bela said, shaking her head at me.

"Look, there's security all over this place, all right?" I said. "This is an uncrashable party without Gert's invitation, so..."

"We can crash anything, Dean," Sam interrupted and I paused. He was right.

"Yeah, I know. But this is easier and it's a lot more entertaining," I said with a grin. I found it funny that Beth hadn't pushed me on that fact, something was definitely up with the girl.

"You know there are limits to what I'll do, right?" Sam said, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ohhh, he's playing hard to get, that's cute." I said, turning to take a glass of champagne from the bar. I looked at Bela and inclined my head. "Come on," I said and she stood up. As I passed Sam I leaned in to him, I couldn't resist just one more little dig. "I want all the details in the morning!" I said as I handed a glass of champagne to Bela.

"Thank you," she said graciously, taking the glass with a smile. I followed her, casting a gaze back at Sam. Gert was standing in front of him, holding a couple of glasses of champagne. She smiled and Sam took a glass, they chinked in a toast and then I chuckled as Sam downed his champagne all in one go. Way to go Sammy.

Bela led the way out to the back of the museum, we put our glasses down, turning all business. She leaned against a balustrade and cast a look around at the security guards.

"Private security?" She asked and I shook my head.

"I don't think so, look at the way they're standing, they're pros. Probably state troopers moonlighting," I said, they were tough all right, and they meant business. I didn't like the idea of getting into a tussle with any of them.

"Posted at every door, too," Bela pointed out.

"Yeah, I don't think we're just going to be able to waltz upstairs," I said, looking about.

"What do you suggest?" She asked, looking at me. I screwed up my nose, this is why I liked having Beth with me, she came up with the good plans, I just did things ad hoc and hoped for the best.

"I'm thinking," I said to her. Bela looked amused.

"Don't strain yourself," she said. I frowned, but I had nothing, I was planless. "Interesting how the legend is so much more than the man," I smirked at her.

"Well you know what they say," I said, "...behind every great man..."

"...there is a great woman." Bela smirked. "Interesting. Didn't think she had it in her, nor you to credit her. I guess you really do care about the girl."

"Don't tell her that, I got a reputation to uphold," I said with a grin, and Bela rolled her eyes at me.

"Maybe I should have brought Beth as my date?" Bela said, raising her eyebrow in challenge.

"You got any bright ideas, I'm all ears," I said.

"Okay," Bela said, and without warning she faked a faint, leaning into me as she fell to the floor. I caught her in my arms, and knelt down near her on the floor.

"Honey, honey, are you all right?" I said, faking concern. I looked around the room while Bela lay limp in my arms. A waiter stood a few feet away and I caught his attention. "Waiter! Waiter. My wife has a severe shellfish allergy. There's no crab in that?" I asked, pointing to a tray he was holding.

"No, sir," the waiter said. I eyed off the little cakes on the tray and took one, shoving one in my mouth. "They're excellent, by the way," I commented, chewing and swallowing the delectable little morsel.

A guard approached us, all stiff and impersonal, as if someone had put too much starch in his undies. "What seems to be the trouble?" He asked.

I glanced up. "Ahhh, champagne, my wife, she's a lightweight when it comes to the sauce. Is there somewhere I can lay her down till she gets her sea legs back?" I asked. He paused and then glanced up the stairs toward the private rooms.

"Follow me," he said, surprising me because I didn't think he was going to fall for something that simple.

"Right, thank you," I said handing the guard her purse and lifting Bela into my arms. "Come on, you lush," I said, biting back the temptation to call her Tinkerbell. That name was reserved for Beth, and Beth alone, when it came to drunken escapades.

The guard led us upstairs to an office and with a grunt I put Bela down on the leather couch, not taking a lot of care.

"You think she's a pain in the ass now, try living with her," I said to the guard, showing him to the door. "Thank you very much," I said, closing the door behind him.

I turned back to the woman on the couch who was now sitting up and looking at me wide-eyed. "Maybe next time give me a little heads up with your plan?" I said.

"I didn't want you thinking, you're not very good at that," she commented, leaning casually against the back of the couch. I snickered, thinking about a comeback, but again, I had nothing.

"Oh, look at you searching for a witty rejoinder," Bela said with a smirk.

"Screw you," I said.

"Very Oscar Wilde. Room 235, it's in a locked glass case wired for alarm, I'm sure that won't be a problem?" She said.

I felt my inner six-year-old coming out, rolling my eyes and mimicking back at her the same comment. "I'm sure that won't be a problem," I said screwing up my face at her. Of course it wasn't going to be a problem, what did she take me for?

The room was easy enough to find, the shrivelled up hand of glory sat exactly where Bela said it would, on display in a glass case. I shuddered to look at it, gross. It was no Snow White, that was for sure. Kneeling in front of the case I opened the panel underneath the glass, and took out my tools, working quickly. Within moments the alarm was off and I had the hand in my possession.

I stuffed it into my jacket and moved back out into the hallway. I passed the guard on his way back from the room, and glanced furtively at the door.

"Oh sorry, uhhh, nature called," I said, and he looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh huh," he said.

"Thanks for looking after my wife," I said, looking down the hallway toward where Bela was.

"Oh, she's being looked after all right," he said with a shake of his head, walking off. I looked at him, confused, and then shrugged, moving back to the room. When I opened the door and rejoined Bela, she was slipping back into her dress. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what had been going on in here.

"Any trouble?" I asked.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," she said with a grin. "The hand?" I pulled it out of my suit jacket and looked it over. Man, it was fugly.

Bela took a few steps toward me, her eyes never leaving the hand. "May I?" She asked.

"No," I said with a smirk, snatching it out of her reach. What did she take me for? I pulled the handkerchief out of my pocket and shook it out, wrapping the hand up.

"It might be more inconspicuous in my purse," she said.

"Nice try," I said, pointing out that I wasn't fooled by her for a second.

"Just trying to be helpful," Bela said.

"Well, sweetheart, I don't need your kind of help," I said, putting the hand back in my suit jacket and chuckling internally. If Beth could only see me now, she needed to have more faith in my ability to ward off women's charms.

---

Downstairs

Sam's POV

This song had been going on forever and a day, would it never end? Gert was clinging to me, one arm draped over my shoulder holding an empty champagne glass, while her head rested on my chest.

"Man, this is one long song," I commented.

"I hope it never ends," she said, taking a deep breath. "How's the investigation going?"

"These things take time," I said elusively.

"People are talking about the Warren brothers' deaths. Strange. Do you think it's connected to Sheila?" She asked me.

"Yeah, yeah we think so," I said, looking down at the bright eyes staring up at me all flirtatious and cheeky.

"I think they had it coming," Gert said, moving her head back to my chest. "In a biblical sort of way."

"What do you mean?" I asked, getting her attention.

"You know about their father?" She whispered.

"No?" I asked.

"Come here, I'll whisper it to you." She pulled me in before I could do anything about it, her lips brushing against my earlobe as she spoke. "People say that the old man didn't die of natural causes," she said.

"Then how?" I asked.

"Rumour is the boys did it. Nothing was ever proven, but people still whisper," she said. I felt her lips kiss my ear and I pulled away, completely weirded out.

"Okay, okay. So... did Sheila have any connection to them?" I asked.

Gert frowned and shook her head. "None that I know of."

"Did Sheila have any kind of tragedy in her life?" I asked, taking a different tact.

"Yes, as a matter of fact there was a … car accident when she was a teenager," Gert said.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Her car flipped over, she was okay, but her cousin Brian was killed. Why, is that important?" She asked. I thought about it, maybe it was.

"Well, having a nice time?" Bela asked with a smile, she and Dean coming up to us.

"He's delightful!" Gert said, putting her head back on my chest. She pulled away at Bela's smile and walked over to the woman. "He wants me," she said conspiratorially .

Bela looked at us both and smiled. "I'm going to get Gert into a cold shower," she said. I nodded my complete agreement.

"Good idea," I said as Bela pulled the resistant Gert out the door.

"See you at the cemetery!" Bela called back at us. I turned to look at Dean who was gazing at me curiously.

"You stink like sex," he said and I rolled my eyes.

"You got it right?" I asked, loosening the bow at my neck. "Tell me I didn't get groped all night by Mrs Havisham for nothing," I pleaded as we walked outside.

"I got it..." Dean replied confidently as we climbed into the car, then turned confused eyes to me. "Mrs who?"

"Never mind, just let me see it," I said, gesturing for the hand.

Dean reached into his jacket and pulled it out, unwrapping the item from his handkerchief. His mouth fell open and I glanced over to see him holding a small, thin glass bottle with a miniature replica of a ship.

"I'm gonna kill her!" Dean snapped, hitting the steering wheel. Bela Talbot had just pulled the switch on us again.

---

Shreveport, Louisiana

12 years ago

John's Journal

Dean and I are taking Beth on another hunt tonight. It's been a month, I think she's ready to try again. She's determined and stubborn, just like Dean, so I've given in to my reservations and decided to let her go. We're hunting a wraith, it's been in the local nursing home, feeding on the old people. There was talk about a monster walking the corridors at night, eating the brains of the residents. Sounds like a wraith to me. I sent Dean in with Beth to cover one ward, I took the other.

Dean's POV

I looked at Beth, we were in our regular street clothes, impersonating a couple of teens come to visit Grandma. We stalked through the corridors, looking for anything that seemed out of the ordinary.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" I asked her quietly and she nodded, looking up at me.

"Yes," she said simply, fingering the silver knife tucked into her sleeve. She appeared calm and collected, and I wanted to believe her, but at the same time, it wouldn't matter to me if she never got into hunting – better for her not to if you asked me. She was a gentle soul who had faith in angels and God, I had trouble reconciling that with a life of killing.

An anguished cry echoed down the hallway and we exchanged a look. We rounded the hallway, following the sounds that were more and more becoming those of a struggle.

"No! No! Back demon!" We burst through a door into a man's private rooms and found a young nurse straddling him on the bed. A spike protruded from the palm of her hand and she held it over the man's head. As we burst through the door she turned to look at us, smiling, moving her hand behind her back. It was too late, we'd seen it, we knew who she was. Still, she decided to try and fake her way out of it anyway.

"Hello there, can I help you?" She asked sweetly, climbing down from the bed.

"Yeah, uh, we're looking for Mr... uh... Rogers. He's our Grandpa," I said to her, smiling and putting my arm around Beth's shoulders.

"I'm not familiar with Mr Rogers, is he in the other wing?" The nurse said, moving around toward us.

"Uhh, maybe, yeah," I said with a nod. "Why don't you show us?"

She nodded and moved toward us, at the last moment she lunged for me, grabbing my shirt and spinning me into the wall. A loud crack sounded as I hit my head, I saw stars pop up behind my eyelids as the crushing weight of my brain hitting my skull left me dizzy.

I slid down the wall, my limbs all loose and uncontrolled, and it felt like I was going to throw up. Beth was completely immobile, staring at the wraith who smirked at me, the spike protruding ominously from her palm. She reared her hand back and I flinched, waiting for the inevitable searing pain that was about to happen even though I struggled to get out from underneath her.

It never came. Suddenly Beth was behind the creature, and she thrust her silver knife deep into her back, hitting the heart from behind. The creature roared, shimmering before my very eyes from a young, virile red headed nurse to a decaying corpse, black and sagging, her hair falling out in chunks.

I gagged, and pushed the body away. Beth stood over me, knife in hand, having held on to it as the body fell to the ground, pulling loose. She looked down at me, slight horror in her eyes.

"Took you long enough," I grunted, trying to sit up.

Beth sucked in a breath, staring at her hands which were covered in blood.

"Beth," I said, trying to bring her back from wherever it was she'd gone inside her mind. She blinked, looking at me.

"I killed him," she whispered, tears coming to her eyes.

"Uh, her, I think," I said, looking at the wraith, pushing against the wall until I was standing in front of her. Brown troubled eyes stared back at me.

"Not her..." she said quietly before looking down at her hands again. "Dad."

I sucked in a breath and realised where she'd gone. Back to that day. I took the knife from her, putting it in my jacket; then I took her hands in mine, just like I had the day we'd met, she was turning them over and over and I held them tight.

"Not you didn't," I said. I looked down at the corpse on the floor, the old man had fainted on the bed, and we were in the middle of the whole complicated situation. I took her hand, pulling her out the glass door that led from the room into the gardens beyond. I had to get us away from the scene.

There was a bench under a tree and I sat us down, reaching out to take Beth's face in my hands.

"You didn't, it wasn't you, it's not your fault," I said, and she looked at me, crying.

"You don't know that, it's my fault I was possessed, I was weak!" She said.

"No you weren't," I said, sighing, pulling her in to me again. She sank into my chest with a sigh of sadness. Dad found us a moment later and she pulled away, wiping back tears and sniffing.

"Did you do it?" He asked, looking at Beth. I nodded.

"Yeah, yeah she did. She was great, didn't hesitate at all." I said. It wasn't entirely true, but she'd been through enough, and when push came to shove, she'd been there with that knife to back me up, to protect me.

"Well done," Dad said, patting Beth on the shoulder. She mustered up a smile for him and nodded.

"Okay, let's go, we're done here." He said. I nodded, getting to my feet a little unsteadily. My head was still ringing and I wondered vaguely if I might have a concussion. Beth slipped her arm around my waist to help balance me and I smiled at her.

"My little protectress," I said to her, kissing the top of her head. She chuckled and shook her head at me.

"Just doing my job," she said quietly.

"And what job is that?" I asked while we walked. Dad had run ahead to get the car, seeing that I was moving slowly.

"Well, you're always looking after Sammy, so I guess it's my job to look after you," she said to me and I smiled.

"But who looks after you?" I asked, even though we already knew the answer. I just wanted to hear her say it, to know that she knew I had her back.

"You do," she said softly, bumping against me as we walked. "You promised."

"That I did," I said, nodding at her with a quirky smile. "Don't you forget it."

---

Holiday House

Present Day

Dean's POV

I was staring at the little glass bottle, with a miniature boat in it as I held it in front of the candles lighting up the room.

"You know what, you're right," I said to Sammy. "I'm not gonna kill her. I think slow torture is the way to go!" I said, starting to pace the room. We'd changed out of our monkey suits, and I was getting more and more pissed by the minute that instead of enjoying the little strip tease I had planned to do with Beth to remind her that she hadn't missed out on anything during this soiree, I was instead missing one supernatural artefact – and to top it off, I was missing Beth too!

She wasn't answering her phone. I wasn't at panic mode about that yet because it had been part of the plan to have her follow Bela if she got away from us at the party, but as each half hour passed with no contact from Beth, I was starting to get there.

"Dean, look, you gotta relax," Sam said to me.

"Relax, oh yeah, yeah, I'll relax," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose against an ensuing headache. "I can't believe she got another one over on us!"

"You," Sam said quietly and I turned to look at him.

"What?" I asked shortly.

"She got one over on you, not us," Sam said pointedly, placing the blame for the lost hand squarely on my shoulders.

"Thank you Sam. Very helpful!" I said loudly, shaking my head.

The door was suddenly thrown open, and an angry looking Beth shoved Bela through the door, a gun pointed at her back.

"Well well well, look who the cat dragged in," I commented. Beth raised an eyebrow at me and I couldn't help but grin at her. "Hey kitty," I said, and received a grin in return.

"Where's the hand, Bela?" Sam asked from behind me, getting straight to the point.

Bela scowled back at Beth and crossed her arms. "She sold it," Beth answered, pushing the door closed and moving past Bela into the room. "I didn't get to her in time."

"Look, I've had a buyer lined up since I knew it existed," Bela said weakly.

"So the whole reason for us going to the Charity Ball was...?" Sam prompted, though we all knew the answer.

"I needed a cover. You were convenient," she said with a shrug.

"Look, you sold it to a buyer, just go buy it back," Sam said.

"It's halfway across the ocean, he's already gone. I can't get it back in time," she said, and I realised that she was starting to look a little scared. I glanced at Beth, who was looking smugly at her, shaking her head.

"What's going on with you Bela? You look like you've seen a ghost," I said.

"She saw the ship," Beth said, raising an eyebrow at me.

"You what?" I said incredulously, looking at the woman. "Wow, you know, I knew you were an immoral thieving con artist bitch, but just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't get any lower..."

"What are you talking about?" Bela asked.

"We figured out the spirit's motive," Sam said, holding up another photo. "This is the captain of our ship. The one who hung our ghost boy."

"So?" Bela said, looking unimpressed.

"So they were brothers. Very Cain and Abel. So now our spirit, he's going after a very specific kind of target – people who've spilled their own family's blood," Sam said, and Bela's eyes widened.

"See first there was Sheila who killed her cousin in a car accident; and the Warren brothers, who murdered their father for the inheritance, and now you." I said, looking at her.

"My God," Beth said, stunned, looking over at Bela in the same light we were.

"So who was it Bela? Hmmm? Who'd you kill? Was it Daddy? Little sis, maybe?" I asked her, pushing her.

"It's none of your business," she snapped back at me, but her eyes said she was scared. She knew we knew, and now we knew that she knew that we knew. It was all very knowing. I grinned, feeling quite superior to her right now.

"No, you're right," Beth said, frowning at her. "Well, have a nice life – you know, whatever's left of it." She turned to me and took my arm. "Let's go."

"You can't just leave me here," Bela said, looking at the three of us.

"Watch us," I said back to her, completely in agreement with Beth on this one.

"Please," Bela begged. "I need your help."

"Our help?" I said with a smirk. "Now how could a couple of serial killers possibly help you?" Yeah, I was still smarting from that comment, and it wasn't going to die an easy death any time soon.

"Okay," Bela said, looking at me. "That was a bit harsh, I admit it, but it doesn't warrant a death sentence."

"That's not why you're gonna die. What did you do, Bela?" Sam asked.

"You wouldn't understand, no one did. Never mind, I'll just do what I've always done, I'll deal with it myself." Bela said, looking dejectedly at Sam.

"You do realise you just sold the one thing that could save your life?" I asked.

"I'm aware," Bela said dryly.

"But, maybe not the only thing," Sam said with a raised eyebrow. Bela looked at us cautiously, and then somewhere, under those calculating eyes, a little bit of hope started to shine. Of course we were going to help her, it's what we did.

---

Cemetery
Present Day

Beth's POV

Sam and I were setting up the altar , a pentagram lit up at each point with candles. He poured blood we'd gotten from the local butcher into a goblet while I laid out the necessary herbs for the summoning ritual we were about to perform.

"Do you really think this is going to work?" Bela asked, staring up at the full moon overhead. Dean was perched on a headstone, shotgun loaded with salt in hand, watching as Sam and I worked.

"Almost, definitely not," he said. A crack of lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a loud boom of thunder, angry storm clouds had crowded in over the top of us and rain started to fall from the sky as we worked. Dean looked at me, nodding at John's journal in my hands.

"Beth, you better start reading," he said and I nodded. I zipped up my jacket and pulled the hood over my head, grimacing at the downpour that had just started. I wasn't happy about the rain getting this journal wet, it was too precious to lose to a rainstorm. At the moment, I had very little choice however, it was either read or watch Bela die.

"Aziel, Castiel, Lamisniel, Rabam..." the Latin flowed easily from my lips as Sam held a flashlight up for me to read by. I continued to read the Latin, wind picking up around us. The candle in front of me blew out, and I glanced at Sam, sharing a disconcerted look. I ran my finger under the words as I read, keeping pace with where I was at.

"Stay close!" Dean instructed Bela and she started to look around panicked. Suddenly I heard Bela yell at Dean.

"Behind you!" I glanced up to see the spirit appear behind Dean. He spun around but wasn't fast enough. The spirit sent him flying through the air and he hit a tomestone. I forced myself back to the page, Sam handing me the flashlight as he made for Dean, who had the shotgun. Bela suddenly shook as the spirit touched her face, and then she started to cough up water. I glanced up between verses, still reading the Latin as quickly as I could.

"Beth, read faster!" Dean yelled to me scrambling toward Bela who was kneeling on the ground, vomiting up water and gasping for air. Sam was looking about for the gun in the darkness.

Bela started to weep as I finished the ritual. The rain subsided and the clouds passed as the spirit of the captain appeared behind the attacking spirit.

The kind looking man who was the captain looked at his brother, love and compassion emanating from him. The younger brother looked on, angry.

"You...hanged me!" He muttered, the words cutting like knives through the air.

"I'm sorry," the Captain said with tears in his eyes.

"Your own brother!" The spirit accused.

"I'm so sorry," the Captain said sadly. The restless spirit charged at the spirit of his brother, and in a clash of water, like two waves crashing against one another, they disappeared, fading into the night's cold air.

I looked about at the family in front of me, Dean holding Bela and looking shocked at the fact that the ritual had actually worked, Sam wandering back toward us, gun in hand. I sighed with relief, we'd done it, we'd managed to release, hopefully for the better, another restless spirit – he could no longer do any harm.

---

Holiday House

Next Morning

Beth's POV

We were packing our bags, getting ready to leave when Bela strolled through the front door as if she owned the place.

She smirked, shaking her head. "You guys should learn to lock your doors. Anyone could just barge in."

I looked up from John's journal which I had come to the end of, and rolled my eyes at her. "Anyone just did," I said. "Have you come to say good bye or thank you?"

"I've come to settle affairs," Bela replied. "Giving the spirit what he really wanted, his own brother – very clever Sam," she said, tossing him a bundle of money. "So here. It's ten thousand – that should cover it. I don't like being in anyone's debt."

"So ponying up ten grand is easier for you than a simple thank you?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. He chuckled at the woman. "You are so damaged."

Bela smiled, looking at Dean affectionately. "Takes one to know one," Bela said quietly. Dean shook his head and grinned at her, I reflected ruefully that she probably wasn't too far off the mark with that one.

"Good bye lads," she said, then looked over at me. "Beth, take care of these guys, won't you?" I nodded silently, fighting the little inner voice in my head that was trying to tell me she wasn't too bad a person, just damaged, like the rest of us.

She walked out as quickly as she had arrived, closing the door behind her.

Sam turned to look at us, tossing the money to Dean. "She's got style, you gotta give her that," he commented.

"I suppose," Dean said, flipping through the hundred dollar bills.

"You know, Dean, we don't know where this money's been," Sam said and I chuckled.

"No," Dean said with a nod, tossing me a grin. "But I know where it's going... ahahaa!"

---

Impala

Present Day

Beth's POV

I flipped to the last entry, and smile on my face. I'd read it a few times now, but it never failed to put a smile on my face.

This is the last entry on the subject of Beth joining us. I'm going to put these pages away, just in case Beth wants to know what happened during this time. I hope whatever I've said here helps in some way if she ever does. She's been with us six months, and I can safely say our lives have changed for the better for it. I see Sammy opening up again, smiling and enjoying laughter and friendship. He and Beth have started creating their own dart board game, and I have to say, they're pretty good at it. I shudder to think what else their devious minds will come up with over the years. Dean is less sullen, dare I say he might even be enjoying himself occasionally? I have been too hard on him, I see that now, but I was only doing the best that I could.

I've had to be hard on Beth too, and continue to be, because she needs to be strong to face what is to come. But I rest at night, content that whatever does come, they will have each other, a real family. I'm taking them to Bobby's tomorrow, where Beth can meet a new sister to add to the family, I think she's ready. I have no idea what Nicole will think of her, she's a hot headed one that girl, but I'm hoping maybe Beth's good nature will temper her a little, like it has Dean.

Ellen called last night, she'd just heard about Patrick. She wanted me to send Beth to her, to be raised with Jo. I didn't even have to think about the answer. Six months ago I might have considered it, because at the end of the day Ellen would have been no more a stranger than we were to Beth. But now, I can't give her up, she's my daughter, and I love her. She makes our lives brighter just being in them. I doubt she'd go, even if I ordered her to, she's a stubborn one, more so than Dean, maybe even me. I suppose you have to be in order to be a Winchester.

Dean's arms slid around my waist as he leaned in to kiss the back of my neck, peeking over my shoulder at the journal. "Did you learn anything?" He asked, stroking a hand along my stomach.

"Apparently I'm as stubborn as a Winchester," I said with a grin, turning to look back at him. He chuckled and nodded.

"No argument there," he commented, kissing me on the cheek.

I looked down at my hands, and for once they looked just like hands. I sighed, and tossed the journal on the back seat of the Impala, still leaning against the side of the car. I turned in Dean's arms to face him, kissing him softly with a smile.

"I think I found redemption," I said quietly and he looked at me puzzled.

"Redemption?" He asked.

"Mhmm," I said with a nod. "All these years I've had that question in my mind... was it my fault? Am I responsible for killing my own father?"

"And?" Dean prompted, looking at me with concerned eyes.

"I didn't see the ship," I answered him, shaking my head. "I didn't see it. I was standing right there next to Bela when she saw it. It appeared before our very eyes and she's the only one who saw it." Dean smiled, nodding. He cupped his hand around the back of my neck and pulled me forward to kiss my forehead, holding me tenderly.

"I told you," he said into my hair, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

"I know," I said, burying my face into his neck, breathing in the pine earth smell that was him.

Sam walked up behind us, throwing his bag in the trunk and slamming it shut.

"Seriously, Atlantic City?" He asked, oblivious to the moment we had been having.

Dean grinned and pulled back a little. "Hell yeah, play some roulette! Always bet on black!" I chuckled, shaking my head at him.

Dean's face turned sober and he looked over at Sam. "Hey, listen. I've been doing some thinking. Um, I want you to know I understand why you did it. I understand why you went after the crossroads demon."

Sam sighed, and crossed his arms, standing beside us.

"And if the situation was reversed I guess I'd have done the same thing," Dean said, looking between the pair of us. "I mean, I'm not blind – or deaf," he said, looking at me for the last part. "I see what you guys are going through with this whole deal, me going away and all that. But you're going to be okay."

I bit my lip, determined not to get into this again, I hated it, I hated the whole conversation. The way every time we had it was like chipping away a part of my heart – pretty soon I'd have nothing left to feel with at all. Maybe that was the key, but it sure didn't feel like a good solution.

"You think so?" Sam said, this time it was his turn to have the conversation, I had lost my voice for it, my passion, it had made me numb.

"Yeah," Dean said, nodding. "You'll keep hunting, you know, you live your life. You're both stronger than me, you are..." Sam cleared his throat in disbelief. "You are... you'll get over this, get past it. But I want you to know I'm sorry, I'm sorry for... putting you through this. I am."

It had been less than a week since he and I had been over this in our heated argument, and here we were again. I closed my eyes, fighting back the futility. How he thought either of us was going to be okay without him was beyond me. It seemed also like he'd just done a complete turn about on the whole fighting to survive thing, and this frustrated me.

"You know what Dean, go screw yourself," Sam snapped and I almost laughed.

"What?" Dean asked, frowning.

"I don't want an apology from you – and by the way, I'm a big boy now, I can take care of myself." Sam said, crossing his arms and looking at the both of us. I noticed he included me in on this statement and I wrinkled up my nose.

"Oh, well excuse me," Dean said, offended.

"Will you please quit worrying about me? Both of you. I mean that's the whole problem in the first place! I don't want either of you to worry about me. I want you to worry about yourselves. Dean, I want you to give a crap that you're dying!"

I buried my face in Dean's neck again, he was very still, and said nothing to Sam's statement. I did feel his heart beat though, and it was racing.

"So what, that's it?" Sam asked. "Nothing else to say for you?"

Dean sighed, and I felt the rise of his chest under my cheek.

"I think maybe I'll play craps," Dean said and I snickered. God it was hard to stay angry with him.

Sam sighed and threw his hands in the air, walking away. I wrapped my arms around Dean and held him tightly to me, laughing quietly at the whole craps comment; I found it hysterically funny for some unknown reason.

Dean kissed the top of my head, and ran a hand through my hair.

"Come on sugarpie, we can get you a dress for the craps table," he said, and I looked up at him, pushing back all the fears and worries that had settled around my heart. I nodded.

"On one condition," I said to him.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "What?"

"You have to wear the monkey suit," I grinned. He chuckled, leaning in to kiss me.

"Deal," he said, smiling. "Now get in the car, we're burning daylight!"

---

AUTHOR'S NOTES

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Song for this chapter is: Everything Burns by Anastacia ft. Ben Moody

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Sorry about the delay, hope the length makes up for it. I'm still finding it hard to get inspiration right now. I have been wanting to tell the "First Blood" story for a while now, so when I came up with the idea to work it into this episode, it suddenly took on a life of it's own, and took a bit to write up. Hope you enjoyed it.

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I'm thinking I might go and do Beth's POV of Dead in the Water which is a flashback to early relationship Dean & Beth, right before John gives his blessing. EarthhAngel has already told John and Cole's perspective on this episode over at her story How To Save A Life (Chapter 6) so go check it out if you would like to read it, there's some fun Dean and Beth moments in there, with lots more to be told from Beth's POV.

PS. There's also a new Chapter up over there so get check it out when you get a minute or two – you'll get to learn a little about Beth's mother too! Thanks to EA for including me in as a collaborative writer on this fic, it's great to have the opportunity to tell some of Grace's story in this manner :)

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I just wanted to say Welcome to all the new readers who have been signing up to the stories in the last few weeks – great to have you here. Please take the time to leave a review, I always try and respond and it makes me all giddy happy when people do that, it definitely inspires me to keep going!

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Thanks as always to EarthhAngel and her constant support and encouragement – beta reading and letting me know where the story needs work and where it doesn't. It's always a pleasure working with you! Hugs!

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Check out the Facebook page, put in the address, then add /pages/Dean-Beth-Supernatural-Fanfic/6167414450129 46

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OK. Please read and review – and if you want, make suggestions on what you want to see next because I'm wide open on the inspiration front.