"If you can't do this, we can call someone else." Dean offered as he released her.

"No," she declined. "I want to know that he's gone. I want to know that his spirit will rot in hell for the rest of eternity, and that he can never hurt anyone else."

"We're going to have to go back there. Back to you're old house."

"Tomorrow," She whispered. "We'll go tomorrow. I just want to get back to Sam." As she said this, the enormity of how much she missed him crashed down on her. She felt drained and unnaturally weak. She hated the feeling of weakness, and she knew seeing Sam would revive her.

Dean held her hand as they drove back to the motel.

"So, Dad burned the body?" Dean asked. Carmen nodded. "Knowing Dad, he was thorough. He wouldn't have missed anything. The spirit must be tied to the house somehow."

"That doesn't make sense. He was nomadic for hunts."

Dean heaved a sigh. "Carmen, I have to ask…the things he did to you…was it always in that house?"

"No," Carmen pursed her lips. "He wasn't picky."

Dean glanced sympathetically over at her and gently gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She was grateful for the contact. "All the deaths have been inside the house, in one of the rooms on the second floor. There've been-"

"Dean, I don't want to know." She cut him off.

"Sorry," He sighed in frustration at himself and the situation. "I'm just saying, all the research I did was contingent with the theory that the spirit is tied to the house."

"Fine." She said shortly.

They arrived back at the motel and opened the door to find an empty room. Sam was not where they had left him.

"Where's Sam?" Carmen couldn't keep the anxiety out of her voice.

"Sam?" Dean called. He checked the bathroom. "Maybe he just went out for some food."

"No, something's not right." As she said it, Carmen experienced a blinding plain in her head. She cried out and clutched her temples, as her vision became blurry. Faintly, she heard Dean next to her calling her name but was unable to respond. She was no longer with him; she was miles away, in her childhood bedroom. She saw, in her mind, the ceiling of her bedroom. Involuntarily, her eyes traveled to the window that looked out into the sky. Then a single image of Sam, bloodied and weak, erupted in her mind.

Then suddenly, like a sling shot, like a rubber band stretched to its limits, she snapped back to her own mind. Blinking rapidly, she put her hand up to shield her eyes from the bright light that blinded her. Dean's face swam into her line of vision, and she realized her was shaking her.

"Carmen!" He called.

"He has Sam." She breathed. She tried to rise from her position on the floor, but Dean pushed her back down.

"Who does? Carmen, what the hell just happened?"

"I don't know, I had a vision or something. I saw my room through Sam's eyes; the spirit got to him!"

"You had a vision?"

"Yes! It felt like it was being forced into my head."

"You think Sam did it?"

"I don't know, Dean! All I know is that Sam's in trouble."

"But it couldn't have been the spirit; there's no way! It can't leave the house. How…?"

"We have to go, we have to get him out of there!" She made for the door, but Dean caught her arm.

"Carmen, stop! Think about this; what if it's a trap? What if Sam is fine, and this thing is planting images in your head to bait you? We can't just charge in there unarmed!"

"Then grab your gun."

This time, when they pulled into the long winding driveway, the Impala kicking up dust and skidding to a stop an inch away from the porch, Carmen jumped out and ran the length to the door. She didn't give herself time to feel timid or become fearful of what she needed to do. She paid Dean no attention, ripped the door out of her way and charged inside.

The door slammed closed behind her of its own accord. Her heart leapt in her chest. She was closed in and Dean was left outside. "Carmen!" He yelled from the other side. "Let me in!"

"I can't!" She yelled as she yanked on the door. "It's stuck." Her breath caught in her throat as fear took over. Her palms slipped from the brass handle due to the sweat that coated them. She turned around to face the room she had fled from not an hour earlier. Fear gripped her, but the vision of Sam, bound and beaten, trumped her fear.

She ignored Dean's hasty warnings to find a way out and ventured, with as much courage as she could summon, up the stairs. She held her gun aimed and cocked in front of her, but it offered little comfort. She could still hear Dean calling from outside, but his voice grew more and more distant.

"Sam?" Carmen meant to shout it, but it came out in a half-hearted whisper. Her voice was lost. She knew from her vision exactly where he was, but she wished more than anything that she didn't need to go there.

She reached the top of the stairs and stared at the hallway in front of her. The hallway turned right, and beyond that turn was her old room, the same room where Sam was being held. She could see, even before turning the corner, a faint gold light illuminating her path.

Carmen followed the light and found that it was emitting from the bedroom. She stood in the doorway, staring, impossibly, into the exact same room that she had slept in when she lived here. The color of the walls, the billowing curtains, and the furniture were all the same. Sam was lying on the same bed where she had slept all those years ago. There were bruises on his face and gashes down his chest, and Carmen wanted to run to him, to comfort him, and to get him out of that house. But Carmen was unable to step into the room.

She backed away from the door until she was pressed against the adjacent wall. She was almost too stunned to move. Her breaths were coming short and shallow into her lungs. She didn't see Sam tied to the bed anymore; she saw herself being pinned down, with her father on top of her.

There were too many demons to face in there.

"Sam," she called desperately. "Can you hear me? Are you alright? Sam, please answer me."

"Carmen, I'm tied up." Sam's voice was strained; he was badly hurt.

"I can't go in there. You have to untie yourself."

"I don't think I can." Sam winced. Carmen wanted desperately to help him, but her feet would not carry her into the room where she was violated so many times. When she looked at Sam on the bed, she saw herself, bloody and terrified, and her father advancing toward her…

"Come on, Sam, please try to get yourself out." His answering groan made her heart sink.

A crash from down the hallway made her jump out of her skin. Her father's rabid form came charging at her, and her only choice was to lock herself in her room. She slammed the door closed and pushed her back to it, barring it with all her might. Suddenly she was eleven again, alone, scared, and crying. Her father beat on the door, a prelude to what he was about to do to her.

"No, no, no," she cried. "Please, stop, stop it!"

"Carmen!" Sam called, but she couldn't hear him. "Carmen, listen to me!" It was useless.

A loud BANG from the other side of the door, and then silence. The beating had stopped, but the fear still infected Carmen's heart.

"Carmen!" Dean's voice from the other side of the door called to her. "It's me, let me in."

Carmen opened to the door to see Dean holding a rock salt loaded sawed-off. "You okay?" He asked, examining her. She nodded. Suddenly remembering Sam, she rushed to his side. Dean stayed at the doorway, aiming his shotgun.

"Sam, I'm sorry," Carmen whispered. Tears were running down her face as she untied his hands. "This is all my fault; I should have warned you, I should have told you everything, I'm so sorry."

Sam caught her frantic face between his hands. "Hey, look at me, Carmen, it's okay." His voice was weak, and he could barely lift his head. He wiped the tears away from her cheeks.

"I didn't want you to get hurt. I was trying to protect you." She sobbed. "I should have told you everything, but I was trying to shield you from it."

"I know." He said soothingly. She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her face gently. "It's your fear, Carmen. That's what your father's spirit is holding on to; that's why he's here!"

Carmen's head snapped up, shock on her features. "How did you know…?"

"This room. I saw everything, Carmen. I saw it all, in my visions. It wasn't your fault." Carmen's mouth hung open. Sam knew everything; he saw it all, and he wasn't casting her away. "You have to face your fear! You have to face what you did, and confront your father! You have to stop running from him. It's the only way to destroy him!"

Carmen's breath quickened, terror gripping her again. "I can't Sam, I can't do it!" Fresh tears sprang into her eyes.

As if on cue, a rumbling on the stairs signaled the return of the angry spirit. Carmen jumped up and drew her knife, as Dean raised his shotgun.

"Don't shoot, Dean." Sam said breathlessly. He looked up at Carmen. "You can do this."

Carmen looked towards the door, and when the rabid face of her father appeared and charged at her, she charged towards him, adrenaline pulsing through her body. She let out a yell and jammed the blade through his heart, this same place she had shot him. It wailed horribly, and the ghost finally vanished, exploding into thin air.

It was gone. The room was silent.

Then Carmen fell to her knees, unable to stand from the shock. Dean dropped his weapon and put his arms around her, pulling her up to her feet. She had faced her past, and Sam and Dean had faced it along side her. They knew her secret, but they embraced her instead of exiling her.

Carmen glanced at Sam, breathing heavily on the bed. He was in bad shape, and they needed to get him out of there. She rushed to his side once more, and examined his wounds. It seemed like her father had shown Sam exactly what her childhood had been like.

She cradled his beaten face in her hands. "Can you walk?" She asked. He nodded, and attempted to get on his feet. With Dean and Carmen's assistance, he managed to get down the stairs and out to the sanctuary of the Impala.

Carmen was sitting outside the motel room waiting when Dean finally came out. "He's going to be fine," he reported. "He's hurting pretty bad right now, but he'll be okay."

"He probably just needs some rest." Carmen said softly. "That's what used to cure me."

Dean looked over to her. "Carmen, I'm sorry."

"For what?" She asked, perplexed.

"For every time I got mad at you for being rude, or angry, or sarcastic. I didn't realize where it came from. I never realized what you went through." Dean hung his head.

Raising Dean's face to look at her, she whispered, "You have nothing to be sorry for." Dean held her hand in his. "In fact, I owe you a huge thank you. I never could have done this without you. I never would have faced this without you."

Dean nodded. "Well, I better get going."

"Where?" She asked, fearful for a moment. Was he leaving after all that?

"I rented another room. I figured you and Sammy…well, you must have a lot to talk about."

"Thanks, Dean." He embraced her, held her tightly to him. If he could, he would have watched over her all night. He wouldn't have let her leave his sight. But that wasn't his job. That was Sam's role to play for her. He kissed her forehead and hugged her again.

"God, C, I can't let you go," He laughed, but it was to cover the emotion in his voice.

"You don't have to," she said. But Dean pulled away.

"Go look after Sammy."

Carmen opened the motel room door and was greeted with darkness. In the moment that the light from the street infiltrated the room, Carmen could see Sam's bandaged up chest and bruised face. She closed to door to envelope them in darkness once more.

"Carmen?" Sam called.

"It's me, Sammy." She sat on the bed next to him, stroking his hair affectionately. They sat in the dark silence together for a while before either of them spoke.

"Carmen," Sam said softly. "We need to talk about the visions I had in that room tonight."

"I know we do."

Sam was caught off guard. He expected Carmen to argue until she was blue in the face. "Alright. The things I saw…were they real?"

Carmen heaved a deep sigh. "Yes, they were. The things you saw him do to me…that's how my life was when I lived with him."

"I saw you kill him." Sam said. Carmen nodded, lost for words. "It wasn't your fault, you know that, right?"

"Sam, I pulled the trigger."

"He didn't give you a choice."

Carmen couldn't quite believe that, but she didn't protest. "This was," she ran her fingers lightly over the bandages on his stomach. She bent down and lightly kissed every bandage. She slowly moved to the one on his chest.

Then, without thinking about it, she softly kissed his lips. It felt as if they had never stopped kissing, like they had perfected the rhythm and could never forget it. Sam rested his hand on her cheek, and when she pulled away, he gently guided her back to his lips for more. Finally, when they were both breathless and emotional, Sam kissed her on the cheek and released her.

"You have no idea how thankful I am that Dad rescued you that night," Sam said, his voice breathy with emotion. "I can't imagine my life without you. I think I would have missed you even if I'd never met you."

Carmen laid next to him, and he wrapped his injured arms around her. She buried her head in Sam's chest, unable to say anything in reply. Sam stroked her back and her hair, not wanting to move from this moment.

"Carmen?" He asked after a while, and after Carmen's emotions had calmed.

"Mmm?"

"I was just wondering about…about your mother."

Carmen propped herself up on her elbow and scrutinized him. "What were you wondering?" She asked.

"I just want to know what she was like. She was your mom; she was a huge part of your life…she must have been amazing. Can you tell me about her?"

Carmen's face split into the widest smile Sam had ever seen on her, and they spent all night swapping stories about the mothers they sorely missed.

Leave some words!