Here's chapter ten, faithful readers. For the past couple of chapters or so, there's been more than a few chick-flick moments going on with what originally seemed like a rather Dean-esque character... don't worry, she is that way, but like Dean, she'll let her guard down for family... 'nough of my rambling... Enjoy the story.

The second Dean and Nadia re-entered the house, Nadia spun around and locked the back door tightly. When she finished she quickly backed away from the door, as if in fear that whatever had been watching them would come crashing through at any second. She gasped when she smacked into something a little too bumpy to be a wall. Whirling around, petrified eyes locked with Dean's; his strong hands returning to her upper arms.

"Easy there, Dia… what the hell just happened? God, you're still trembling… c'mon." wrapping his arms around the disoriented huntress he led her to the parlor room where Sam sat typing away on his laptop. Stopping the shell-shocked girl, Dean grabbed the knitted quilt from the arm rest of the closest couch, draped it about Nadia's shoulders and sat down next to her, continuing his attempts to still the shaking huntress.

"What the hell happened…?" Sam began to ask, but Nadia's deer-in-headlights gaze landed on him and he understood within a matter of seconds. "Whoa, wait what… It's here?"

Dean looked from his brother to the girl beside him and back again.

"Dude, what the hell are you talking about… no one said anything…" Nadia let out a loud, shuddering exhale looking at Dean once more.

"It'll be weird at first… but speaking out loud won't be completely necessary between you and your brother for very much longer." She whispered, her face having now gone pale in terror, "And yes… Big Bad is here. Sammy… where's Missouri and Emily?"

"I dunno… they haven't come home yet." He admitted, realizing they'd been gone for hours; something was wrong. All three of them seemed to realize this at the same time, and if Nadia's current condition wasn't bad enough, it was about to get worse.

No! No, no, no, no, no… No! Oh god, not tonight… don't take her from me tonight! She thought, dreading that any moment now they'd run out to go find them, only to find Emily's body in the street. She's become so lost in panic, the burning sensation in her lungs from acute hyperventilation felt like a dull and distant throbbing. Sam and Dean's worried voices were a hundred miles away from her; there was only one thing she could concentrate on: Emily.

For as little experience as Sam had with reading thoughts, he had clearly heard Nadia's mental scream of anguish just before she started hyperventilating. Everything was happening so fast, both young men were left with their heads spinning, especially Dean; it took his brother only a minute or two to figure out exactly why. It wasn't just that there were two people missing and possibly hurt, or that Big Bad was on the property, or the fact that Nadia was the key to keeping Sam alive and safe… Sam saw it in an instant as it flashed in his brother's eyes while he struggled to help the gifted huntress… he cared about her, really truly cared about her.

"Sammy… what are you doing?" Dean asked as his brother maneuvered himself next to the girl.

Sam knelt down beside Nadia as she lay on her back gasping desperately for air, cupping her cheek with one hand; he closed his eyes and concentrated on her thoughts. Nadia… Nadia… you need to calm down, we're going to find your sister. We won't let anything bad happen to either of you; I promise. But you need to calm down, you're hyperventilating and Dean and I are scared for you. We need you…and I know you need us. In opening his eyes, he was met by the deep and still somewhat frightened brown orbs of Nadia Coltier; her labored breathing had begun to settle once more, but he could tell it would still hurt to try to speak.

Go to my room, under the pillow, there are 13 bullets… we're going to need the Colt. Sam's eyes widened at the gun's mention.

What… how do you know we have the Colt?

Long story for another time, Sammy; just… HURRY! He nodded curtly as he stood, walking quickly from the room.

"Sammy… where—" Dean questioned as he saw the silent exchange of words between the two gifted hunters, he grew even more confused when his brother exited the room without a word. For as confused as he was, he was grateful to find that Nadia had more or less returned to normal and was no longer cold to the touch. Reclaiming his spot next to her, he inspected the huntress's condition. "So… in all this chick-flick-y drama that's been going down since we met; I never got the chance to ask what all… abilities you have. Just out of curiosity, ya know."

Chuckling to herself, she subconsciously rubbed at her neck. "Oh… of course… mind-reading, thought projection, visions, telekinesis, power-cloaking, astral projection, empathic tendencies, aura detection… a few other odds and ends, to top it all off, I just recently discovered that Emily and I are the lost daughters of the Aztec's." She paused to catch her breath… wow, what a supernatural resume, of course she'd neglected to note her Colt story and healing ability… but that's not exactly something that needs to be addressed at the moment, "Apparently that last one is a pretty big deal. Having an Aztec witchdoctor as an ancestor… seems to have more perks than the life I'm already leading."

Both hunters laughed quietly, Dean finding himself slightly intimidated by a woman for the very first time in his life. Is this chick for real? "What lit Sammy's heels on fire just now?"

"Ah that… one of my little secrets, if I told you… I'd have to kill you. All I can say is that… you'll have to really trust me."

I would, easily, if there wasn't that little possibility of Big Bad possessing you; then I'd do a lot more than just trust you…

"Oh… you don't have to worry about that; I've been immune to possession for some time now…" she stalled as soon as she'd realized she's said too much, "Oops."

"Wait… immune to possession? How?"

"Uh… ha, um, well… ever hear of something called a Devil's Trap…?" She began to say before sensing the spark of recognition in her fellow hunter.

"Yea, Sammy, Mr. No-respect-for-the-appearance-of-other-people's-cars, drew a couple of those things on the Impala just before our first little run in with Big Bad." He mused, slightly peeved at the recollection, "Supposedly turns whatever object it's drawn on into some kind of lockbox that demons can't get into."

"Exactly… sort of; it can work that way with objects, keeping evil out, protecting what lies within. But when it comes to people…" mouth open, she racked her brain for a proper explanation, "it's kind of like an anti-possession, mouse-trap, if you will. Evil can't get through it, can't claim whatever the symbol is on… or in this case 'whoever'. It's especially strong when permanently drawn…"

"… Like a tattoo…?"

"Precisely that, thrice strengthened when after the tat is slapped on… it's cleaned with holy water, by a priest." She concluded, oblivious to how excited she was that he was following her so closely.

"So, your little secret weapon is that you have one of those? Does Emily have one?" He grinned, a chick with a tattoo… hot.

"Haha… I've got two, actually; Em does have one… hers is on her left wrist, easily hidden by a watch. We always thought that veiled discretion was the best possible tactic." She was practically beaming at this point, elated as hell that she could discuss these sorts of matters with someone her own age that did the same thing as her.

"Caution… always the best policy in our line of business." He affirmed, trying desperately to be serious, but his curiosity was getting the best of him, "Uh… can I ask where yours are?"

Chuckling softly to herself, she'd realized he'd found a way to get her shirt off without the situation getting steamy… or perhaps a lead into that direction. She'd have to; the shirt she'd been wearing wouldn't allow her to simply pull down the collar. So she lifted up the back of her shirt, pinning it up by tucking it on the front of her shoulders.

WHAAT? I didn't even have to ask her to take her shirt off! That's just…hot! Keep it professional Dean, stay focused, priorities are straight, I'm focused, I'm… totally thrown off here… goddamn! She couldn't help but snigger at the thought that had come screaming from his mind, shivering ever so slightly at the touch of his rough hands on her bare skin. The fact that her back arched slightly as he lightly slid the tips of his fingers down her spine didn't help her sudden desire to turn around and have her way with him right then and there. But the sound of Sam's feet stomping down the stairs ripped her from her thoughts of feral conquest. Tugging her shirt back into place, she turned quickly, catching the older Winchester completely off guard with a quick, yet fiery kiss. "We'll have plenty of time for fun and games later… right now, we need to focus on where Missouri and Em are and how we're going to get them back without having some sort of confrontation with Big Bad."

As she left, she wasted no time in assessing how thrown off Dean was feeling, "Alright, tell Sammy I'll be in the kitchen in a minute…" the brother looked down at his pants quickly before correcting himself, "make that a couple of minutes."

Nadia walked quickly, all the while laughing silently to herself, I love my power over men… I need to add that to my list of abilities: I bring men to their knees! Just as she reached the front room she heard the faint clicking of keys turning in the lock of the front door. Swiveling to face the door with her head cocked to the side, she watched, almost dumbfounded, as Emily and Missouri piled through the door; arms loaded with brown paper grocery bags.

"Surprised to see us, baby?" the old reader implored as she hefted three bags into Nadia's arms. "Help an old woman out, Nadia. Sorry it took us so long, I remembered that the food supply was low and these boys eat like starved animals." She added after seeing the clear look of confusion and worry written on the girls face.

"… That and Mrs. Scott from down the street cornered us in the driveway; the woman never shuts the fuck up! I thought we'd never get inside…" Emily added as she wandered cautiously towards the kitchen, weighed down by more than just three brown sacks. She's become too jumpy for my liking, too. Jumped and chided me for saying 'Christo, these things are heavy!'

The color in her big sisters face drained, she flinched at 'Christo'? Oh shit. Forcing herself from her moment of paralysis, she nearly ran smack into Sam, "Here Sam, take these into the kitchen with Em." Passing the groceries in her arms to the young man, she gave him a displeased look; we've got a problem, Sammy.

"This the last of it, Missouri?" She asked at the door when she walked through with a couple more bags in tow.

"Yea, could you get the door for me…?" She was almost surprised when Nadia had closed the door with a bit more gusto than intended, and locked it with lightening speed, all before Missouri had time to finish her request. "What's the matter, Nadia?"

Knowing their guardian would more than likely pick up on her mental explanation; she pivoted and charged for the kitchen, again nearly getting knocked on her ass by the lanky, younger Winchester.

"Sorry about that, Nadia." he chuckled whilst helping the huntress steady herself. She began to shake her head, not needing an apology; but the hunter had more on his mind than just an apology. What the hell is going on, how do you know about the gun? Right now would be a good time to start talking.

She kept her gaze steady and stone-like as she reacted to his thoughts. "Your ability to project thoughts is very good… one less thing we'll have to cover, I guess."

Stow the bullets for now, I'll give you a full explanation later; don't worry, I'm on your side…she sighed when she realized that he wasn't backing down. Chewing on her bottom lip she rushed to devise some kind of plan. Alright, give me a minute, I'll tell you what I know.

Walking back into the parlor she caught Dean just as he was getting up from the couch, "Hey there, tiger. Missouri and Em are back; at a guess they had a lot of food to acquire. Listen, why don't you help them put everything away, I'm going to give Sam another quick lesson… then we'll all sit down and figure out what to do about Big Bad, sound good?"

"Sounds like a plan." He affirmed.

She could still feel him, though, even when she was fully aware that her quick and quiet steps had put at least 5 feet between the two of them… she could still feel his eyes roaming, longing, hungering; she winced as she realized it wouldn't last long, bad news for the brothers wasn't far from finding them. One thing she knew for certain about the Winchester family… they would never be permitted to have happiness in their lives for long. What am I doing…what have I done? They've already been dealt so much, why must I make it worse?

Finding Sam waiting at the base of the stairs, she turned quickly, just in time to catch Dean disappearing entirely into the kitchen. Before Sam had time to question, she grabbed his hand and began running up the stairs to her room. "C'mon, Sammy; you want a talk… we're going where no one will pry."

Soundlessly, she pushed the door directly in front of the stairs open with a jab of her fingertips; releasing Sam as he took the final few steps into the room, staring dumbly at the arrangement as she hastily closed the door. The wall opposite the door seemed like any normal youth's room, a movie poster or two, high school diploma and graduation tassel placed with care on the little shelf above the full sized bed bearing a lavender and moss green quilt with matching pillows. Pivoting, he noted the wall behind him was covered in 'hunting' weapons, wherever they would fit—door aside. To his left was a closet turned at an odd angle, like there was some kind of hiding spot behind it; on the wall was countless internet articles tacked everywhere… past jobs, perhaps? The one to his right was halfway composed of shelving units going from the ground to the top on the ceiling, filled—as he observed—with all sorts of books; everything from various religious manuscripts to weapon/ammo almanacs, large collections of folklore reference books to encyclopedias concerning superstitions and mythical creatures. He even found a tattered and authentic copy of the Key of Solomon. The rest of said wall was shrouded in pictures of the sisters and numerous other people; ranging anywhere from when they were infants to their final years in high school, Missouri was in some of them, and kids their own age were in others. There was a young couple with dark hair and elated smiles from their infancy to when they appeared to be 8 or 9 years old… he figured they were the girls' parents. But he paused at one particularly familiar face in the pictures with them: Pastor Jim?

"How…" he began, reaching out to a picture Nadia cradling a sawed off shotgun in her arms, a smirk of triumph splitting her little face, while Jim's left hand proudly clasped her left shoulder; Emily sat at her sisters feet on what looked to be a gravestone, shielding her eyes from the sun, chubby face scrunched up from the bright sunlight.

"Un…" she sighed before attempting her answer a second time, "how do we know Pastor Jim?" he nodded expressionlessly.

"… Father Jim Murphy… was my mom's big brother," biting her lip—yet again—she fought back rebellious tears, warding off most of her emotions, "Uncle Jim; we went to live with him after our parents were murdered… until I had my first vision, then we came here."

Purely by glancing at the younger man, she could surmise that he was having a hard time piecing it all together. Her weakening hold on her emotions dictated that it was time for a subject change, besides; he wanted an explanation from her concerning other manners. "Enough on that subject for now, Sammy… you wanted to talk about something else?"

Before his awed appearance melted back to the stern one from earlier, his eyes went soft and apologetic, I'm sorry… about what happened to him… "Yea," he cleared his throat loudly, "well, at least now I know you're not on the opposing side of all this. But I'd like to know…"

He looks so much like Mary, I wonder if he got to know her at all? She thought as a frown tugged at her lips.

"What… Mary, you mean my mom? You knew my mom… how?" he demanded frantically, stepping quickly towards the startled huntress, subjecting her to his most powerful and pleading puppy dog look. She held up a hand, silencing him as she motioned for him to sit down next to her on the bed.

"I—I only met her twice, briefly… I was a baby. Mom and Dad had Missouri watching me the first time; mom was going into labor with Emily, Missouri had needed to get something from the store… she'd wandered off to find something, and left me in the grocery cart." Tears sparkled as she smiled sadly at the memory, amazed she could remember something from such a young age, "Mary saw me sitting there, all alone, just kicking my legs and smiling at every little thing I saw around me… she thought I'd been abandoned there, kept talking to me so I didn't get scared—I wasn't, but she didn't know that—I remember her voice… it was light, loving, soft like a summer breeze…"

Pausing, the dazzling blue of Mary's eyes momentarily froze all her thoughts; when the blue faded, she found herself staring at Sam who looked like he was on the verge of crying himself. "She had a little boy with her, about my age… I assume that was Dean, he was pretty sweet too, for a one year old; I swear, I thought he was a girl with that hair, it was like looking at a MiniMe of your mother, same air of kindness, same eyes. He held my hand until Missouri came back with arms full of baby food."

Both chuckled lightheartedly at the mental image of Missouri balancing a ton of Gerber goo. "Anyway, that was the first time I met her…"

"And the second…" asked the eager and hopeful young man, "what happened the second time?" brows stitched together, she flashed a weak smile.

"The second time, about two years later… my mother needed Missouri's advice on a vision she'd had; I don't know what it was about, Missouri doesn't talk about it. As fate would have it… Mary had gone to consult the old poop about a vision of her own at the same time; she brought Dean with her, they both recognized me right away. I'd been in the 'waiting room' holding Emily, they both came and sat on either side of me; her stomach was just starting to show that she was pregnant. I let Dean hold Emmy while your mother and I talked, I remember she hugged me while asking about Emily… saying that soon Dean would have a younger sibling, too. I remember her asking what I thought she should name you… Dean wanted your name to be Francis…" emphasizing Francis she grimaced and shuddered, eliciting a snort from Sam.

"…my middle name, actually…" Sam grumbled, turning a little red in embarrassment.

"Oh, jeez…" berating herself she felt herself shrink a little bit, Samuel Francis Winchester… not bad, "well, at least it sounds better than my full name…"

Sam's head shook slowly as he waited for her to further explain that point. Rolling her eyes she quickly mumbled, "Nadia Grace Coltier… Anyway, so she asked me what I thought… and for some odd reason, Green Eggs and Ham popped in my head. So, I said Sam… Samantha if it's a girl. I guess I did a pretty good job at picking names, huh?"

He began to nod his head when he realized something he'd overlooked before, something he'd never even thought of, something he'd never known… "Wait a minute… did you say my mom had a vision!"

The girl seemed genuinely shocked at the outburst, actually, she was more surprised by the fact that he hadn't known about his mother's abilities. "… y-yes…"

"Vision as in… she had abilities, kind of vision!" he cried incredulously, a tone which the huntress didn't necessarily respond well to.

Scoffing she replied, "Yes, Sam… where'd you think you got your powers, your dad? Cuz, these things don't just randomly happen… children aren't randomly born gifted. You no better than me that there is no such thing as coincidence, and random happenings are a damn rarity! All gifted children are born that way because their mothers are gifted… I figured you had already realized that."

He sat quietly, stunned, mouth open in shock; her tone softened and her demeanor returned to being cold and mournful. "I mean, why do you think He usually attacks just the mothers? I know he's made a few exceptions over the years, but mainly, he sticks to mothers for a reason."

"So… mom… Jessica… their deaths were all my fault?" he asked dryly, an old yet ever consuming guilt laced his words; instead of finding herself feeling sorry for Sam… she wanted to smack the notion out of his head.

"Sammy, no… listen, you gotta understand: when It took your mom… when It takes most of his victims… he's lashing out at our kind when we're infants; when we can't do a damn thing to change the situation. What could we do? Sleep, cry, eat, crap ourselves, be adorable or the ugliest goddamn baby anyone's ever seen… but think 'Hmm, this is going to hurt my family and screw us over in the long run… maybe I should try to be normal?'" she shook her head, hoping to drive the message home, "Sam, the coward knew as infants we were powerless to stop him, and our abilities would be dormant for another few years."

"And Jessica… your dad… what about them? She had nothing to do with this life… she didn't even know I do any of this stuff!" she was growing rather weary of how he provoked her with his testiness… quickly, especially at the mention of her father.

"Just like he told you, Sam; they got in the way, they found loopholes… they gave us the happiness and hope that Big Bad intends on starving us of. He took Jessica because whether she knew what you really do or not… she would have still loved you. He took both my parents because they figured out a way around him, and being pwned like that apparently doesn't make him too happy." Nadia began to resent herself for letting her emotions get the best of her so much and so many times that day; this war was taking everything she had left, everything they had left, and was ripping it away from them, tearing everything to shreds in their faces, mocking them with their pains. How did everything…no, I know the reason, I know how it happened, and I'll die destroying what caused all this if need be.

"I don't know about you, Sammy… but, I'm not about to lie down and let him get the desired results from his assault. I'm going to fight him, not just for destroying my life… but for the countless others he's ruined, for the ones that are still crumbling. I'll do whatever it takes; I already know what I won't have in the end… I've got nothing left to lose, so why bother holding anything back?" THERE we go…THAT is the real me, back in ass-kicking mode. Sweet.

"Alright then, well… in the spirit of not holding anything back," he said, returning to what they had originally snuck away from everybody for, "why don't you explain to me how you knew about the Colt, and what the hell is the deal with these 13 bullets?"

"They keep the Colt from expiring for a little while longer." She retorted sarcastically, "You know the basic story behind the Colt, yes?"

"Yea…"

"Or, at least, you know part of the real story; just the part that would make any hunter secretly hope they stumble upon the gun in order to make their next 5 or 6 hunts easy…" she leaned back on her bed, supporting herself on her elbows with her head cocked to the side, "only three people in the world know the entire story… and that's three people as of two days ago; before that Emily and I were it's only keepers. Well, it all started around the time the Colt disappeared and Samuel Colt died, when his three grandson's became the first demon hunters in their family…" she recanted, it dawned on her at that moment that the wheels of fate were quickly gaining speed; and the possibility of beating bits of their fate didn't seem so far fetched. It was then and there, in that moment, when Nadia flashed and held the first genuine smile she'd shown in years.

: wicked cackling, followed by sputtering and coughing: Ngghh... note to self: tone the cackling down a little bit, for health reasons... Hehe, gettin' good, isn't it? To the readers sticking by this story as the craziness escalates each chapter... love you, you're awesome. I'm now officially at the point in my fic where my muse usually abandons me and I find myself bitch slapped by writer's block. Anybody have any thoughts or suggestions as to how you'd like the next chapter or two to go? Please run'em by me, I love writing this story and would like to continue to do so. I've got ideas for a little bit further down the road of the story, but I need a filler. If you can help me... I can't promise a cookie, sticker, or hug... but you'll have a little line of personal thanks tacked to the beginning of each chapter... until I die, I dunno. Anyway, if you can help... please do. Thanks!