Disclaimer: I own whatever the CW/WB does not own.

YAY another emotional rollercoaster!! I tend to do that alot, huh? Ok, new chapter that I'd been wanting to post for weeks now. w00t! -CS

CHAPTER 19

Any and all hope seemed to be incinerated from the darkest corners and crevices of Nadia's soul as an icy chill coursed through her. The air surrounding her seemed to fall a little more heavily unto her shoulders as she turned to face the monstrously sized house she'd called home for so long; did the boys figure her out? Or has the truth been revealed to Dean? Either way she didn't want to chance a run-in with either hunter, stealthily–alongside a deadly quiet step–she slunk back into the house, sensing that neither brother was nearby, tiptoeing towards the stairs to sneak back to bed. Mourning was an absolutely exhausting ritual, something she'd come to know well from years of experience; her soft bed called like a siren to her.

She was on the verge of closing her door when the sound of heavy footfalls thundered through the kitchen, heading in the direction of the back porch. When they suddenly went silent, she knew whoever was looking for her had discovered her cancer-sticks and lighter had returned to their spot on the counter. She was back inside the house.

Retrieving the soft, moss green blanket from its carefully folded spot at the foot of her bed; Nadia Coltier was damn near passed out when the–once again–heavy footfalls fell silent just outside her door. And the large slab of vertical wood slowly and silently eased open. She didn't move, she found herself unable to. The heart wrenching pain emanating from her observer gave way to who stood in the door frame with stubborn tears boiling at the surface of his eye lids.

Dean.

I'm so sorry things turned out this way.

Her thoughts came to a shocking and unexpected halt when the gifted huntress was actually caught off guard when she felt the soft brushing of a hunters hand against her exposed cheek. Masking her surprise in an expertly fashion, Nadia's eyes slowly fluttered open and groggily, she turned to the young man leaning over her.

"Hey... Dean... I–I'm sorry..."

Hold me, damnit someone hold me and tell me everything's going to be okay! Her thoughts howled miserably; restricting the force of each word to slam into and bounce off her mind alone.

I've always been the brave little soldier, unfeeling, without want; free of fear so long as Emmy was safe. But she's gone now and nothing feels like it's worth fighting for anymore...
What about Dean... and his brother. So you couldn't save Emmy... you still have a chance to save them...
No, goddamnit, no. If I try to help them... it'll only kill them. The Demon will take Dean from us and Sam and I will wither as result. But if I don't, Sammy's abilities will kill him and Dean would be as lost as me...

Nadia's conundrum suddenly became very clear, but its solution was being a stubborn bastard. In truth, the sluggish, semi-conscious girl felt like a zombie–warmed over–her mind drifted easily, her expression dazed; her body was almost completely limp. It seemed there was no reason for movement, care or alertness. Not when her Sunshine was gone.

Regardless of her trance-like state, she couldn't escape the realization that Drake had been right about Dean.

"How do you do it?"

huh?

"How do you lose the one thing that's mattered most to you over the years and still look so peaceful when you sleep? Lying there looking... blissfully ignorant to the evils of the world... I don't know... I guess I don't know anything anymore... sorry if I woke ya." grief emanated in crushing waves from him as he fidgeted closer to her body, burying his face in the long crimson tresses; blind to the sad and guilty expression she wore.

Dean...

"Hmm?"

"You've nothing to apologize for... you lost somebody, too. It's hard no matter who it happens to, if I look calm... peaceful... it's just a look. There's hardly ever truth in a look." Within the brief moment of silence following her statement, Nadia embraced, almost happily, the loving squeeze of comfort Dean's strong hand provided as it gently caressed her wrists where they lay, tightly crossed and clinging the blanket close to her body.

If only I could shoulder some of her pain... the thought drifted listlessly into her mind.

"Don't..." the murmur was soft and forgiving, regardless of its sharp undertone and meaning as she flipped over to face him. Giving the young hunter just enough time to wrap muscular arms around her waist to draw her a fraction of a breath away. "...don't ask or wish for shit like that. You've got more than enough of your own right now. No need to make it worse. She drew the short straw... and now, I have to learn to accept that. It would have happened sooner or later... that's the way this job goes. You know that."

Brown eyes, glittering in the sullen grey of exhaustion and loss, bore into his. Before she shuts them tightly, in hopes of squeezing away the sting of pain that visions still bring to announce their arrival, the blue-ish grey tinted brown orbs clouded disturbingly.

He's softly calling her name.

Begging for her attention; asking her to look at him.

But all she hears are the faceless voices in her head speaking of other things.

So sad. She was only 28. Such a waste, she had her whole life in front of her.

Cancer.

Who knew?

Who saw it coming?

So she wasn't really pregnant?

No.

I'm sorry; you guys even made up your guest room into a nursery already? How tragic.

What? What the hell? That made no sense! What does it mean

How much longer did they say she had?

Six years... she could have settled down and had an actual family had she not... had she not...

How far away was Mary when she heard the bang?

Front yard... playing.

Oh my god.

"Nadia… Nadia…" his voice dropped when her eyes fluttered open, greeting him with streaks of unnatural silver and blue "What happened, what did you see?"

"I have no idea what the fuck I just saw… it made absolutely no sense… they, they were faceless. And… they were talking about… some woman, 'round my age… she killed herself. There was a little girl… her daughter? Sister? Niece… something… she had been in the front yard playing when the fatal shot was fired… the women and her… they thought they were going to be parents. But it had just been cancer…" her head slumped against his arm in clear confusion. Yes, the vision was quite tragic… but it was so normal, so very different from the trouble their kind usually threw themselves into.

Mary Winchester…

WTF? Mary Winchester… the boys mother? What does Mary have to do with any of this? She thought as the name slithered softly through her mind.

"That sucks and all… but what does it have to do with us?" she shook her head slightly, climbing from the bed.

"M-my stitches are bothering me… I'm going to go clean them and take some aspirin, go ahead and go back to sleep… you look like you could use some." She fibbed casually, doing her best to scratch around the gauze covering most of her eye. "I'll be right back…"

A feeling of dread seemed to escalate with each step that brought her closer to Missouri; her trek skidded to a halt when she noticed something strange near the back door… her lighter was missing and the pack of cigarettes lay open on the counter. Chancing a glance into the backyard through the blinds on the door, she could have laughed at the sight of Sammy… choking his way through his first cigarette.

Poor kid… at least he's found an outlet for his grief.

"Baby… is that you sneaking about?" Missouri.

"'souri… we need to talk… now."

"I first met Mary Winchester when we were girls, she'd run away from home to seek my mother's guidance… she was about ten years old then, scared stiff over her first vision. By that time, my mother had already started to help me come into my own abilities… but it's not entirely unusual for a gifted person to mentor two young minds, especially back then…"

"Back then being…"

"Mid-60's, she was a quirky child… sweet as all get-out, but quirky." The old poop reminisced.

"Mind telling me what her first vision was about?" there was an edge to the question that seemed to catch Missouri off guard.

"Why ever would you ask…"

"There's something I need to make sense of." Taking the old reader's hand, she closed her eyes and allowed the vision to seep from her own fingertips into Moseley's.

"Oh, honey! That was her alright… the day she got her first vision… it was the day she discovered what her fate would be." Missouri exclaimed, handing Nadia an aged photograph of a young girl with a carefree smile and unruly blond pigtails.

"Mary…" the younger mused, her fingertips trailed over the little girls face and hair, "she knew what would come of her? And she still allowed it all to happen?"

"Child, she saw herself burning over Sammy's crib, knew that what happened to her would put her son's on a path that would ultimately save many lives. How can someone see that and throw it all away just so they can live? You kids know better than me, sacrifices are what being a hero's all about." Old, knowing eyes carefully watched Nadia as the young huntress poured over the old photo, memorizing every detail of the little blonde girl smiling vibrantly at the photographer.

"Yeah… was that it? Was that all her vision was about?" when she looked up, the expression that greeted her mentor said she already knew there was more.

"She had told me she'd also seen a young man burning, below him, another young man--also gifted--pulled a young woman kicking and screaming from the room…" she paused momentarily once she caught sight of how the comment caused Nadia to tense up, "now, somehow, she knew the young men were her boy's. And the thought of either Sam or Dean falling victim to the same fate as her disturbed Mary… so we spent weeks figuring out a way around it. A way to save the three of you, collectively…"

Nadia cautiously eyed the picture in her hand as she took extreme care in placing it on the coffee table before her; a chunk of crimson hair fell over her busted eyebrow as she watched the picture where it sat. Slowly, she brought her eyes up to meet her surrogate mother's.

"Got anything for me?"

Sam sat idly on the swinging bench, he'd taken only three cigarettes from Nadia's pack… he'd just taken her sister from her, he couldn't bare to take much more. But as the third and final cigarette huffed out it's final trail of smoke, he'd realized he'd need a lot more than three to black out the pain that moved through him like tar; slow and agonizing.

He hadn't even heard the back door open, or the soft footfalls of a woman walking towards him.

He did notice her presence when she hugged Sam from where she stood behind him.

"You really shouldn't blame yourself for what happened to… it wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done… you were vulnerable, it happens." The whisper drifted softly into his right ear. They stood still together temple against temple, leaning on each other in their darkest moment; silence threatening to destroy any bit of resolve left to them, grief tightly holding their tongues.

"I'll buy you another pack… I took three, but still…"

"Oh, whatev… an outlet's an outlet; if you need a cigarette… it's only proper smoker-etiquette to loan as many as is needed." She huffed quietly; her voice didn't have the strength to raise itself any higher than a whisper. "Besides… Missouri bought me a carton, go ahead and take the rest of the open pack."

The pack dropped deftly from the huntress's hand, landing half an inch from Sam's left thigh. Leaning his head back, he found a strange comfort in the intimacy offered by her embrace. How could she not hate him right now? He couldn't figure it out; it baffled him, almost made him feel worse… yet better, all at the same time; which was even more confusing.

"How can you even look at me right now?" Sighing she released the young man from her grip and walked around the bench to sit down beside him.

"Because right now I'm too concerned about keeping the last things precious to me alive… and I know who the Demon's going to be going after next. You and me both… we're going to have to fight really hard, and make some sacrifices to save his next target." Snagging a cancer-stick, she welcomed the familiar burning sensation as it rolled slowly down her throat. "He's after Dean next."

"NO!" Sam cried suddenly, tears raining down like a hail of bullets as he jumped from his seat. "That rat-bastard is not getting my brother! He took my parents… my girlfriend, and any hope for a normal life… he's not taking my brother too!"

"I…" hiccupping back a sob in her startled state, she quickly attempted to quiet Sam, "I know… Sammy, I understand. Perfectly. He's taken my entire family from me… I don't have anybody left, just you guys, Missouri and the old farts at Johnny's Tavern. That's it, no more; and I'm going to fight as hard as I can to protect what's left. I couldn't save my sister… so I'll be damned if I can't protect you guys. I can't hate you, Sam… I couldn't possibly hate what I choose to save."

The declaration hung in the air, the words stabbing maliciously at Sam's guilt as a dark fear rises in the shadows cast by the formidable storm clouds rolling in. A shiver of apprehension runs up both of their spines. A moment of reserved silence for the fallen hunters pierced their discussion.

After the arduous pause had lingered on long enough, a huffed sigh gave Sam the courage he thought was necessary to speak again. "So where do we go from here, then?"

"I don't know… Missouri seems to have something planned… something she planned long ago, with Mary."

"Mom?" His voice breaks as he speaks and she knows he's close to shattering altogether.

"Yep… we're not going to like it, but it may be the only way to save all three of us… shit…" she hissed as the sensation of needles prickling at the back of her neck arose.

"What is it, what's wrong now?"

"They're here…" She breathed with a slight bit of recovered hope, running around to the fence gate on the side of the house; tossing it aside she ran to the drive way, where sure enough, Ol' Phillip and Brotha Drake stood solemnly against a 68' Charger. Deep blue. Drake looked dazedly at the jug in his arms, barely noticing the crestfallen huntress and her companion as they burst into the scene.

"Who are they?" Sam asked.

You don't remember them from last night? It's Brotha Drake and Ol' Phillip… they're friends.

"DRAKE!" She squealed, sprinting towards the aged black man in dingey grey pants, studded belt, black undershirt, open and black button up, thin framed sunglasses and salt and peppered close cropped hair and beard.

The moment he noticed the girl charging at him, Phil instinctively grabbed the jug so as it wouldn't spill everywhere when the two collided.

"Drake, nice surprise… I should have figured with Lady being down for the count that you'd come!!" actual tears of joy sprang forth and speckled both of their faces.

"If a Coltier calls on a Brotha… what kind of a fool would I be to not comply?" He murmured into her hair. "How you holdin up, Sista Child?"

A disheartening grunt was his only answer.

"And who, dare I ask, is this young squire accompanying our lonesome trade's princess?"

"This is Sam Winchester… Dean's younger brother."

"Ah, Sssssammy… pleasure to finally meet Johnny's other boy." Drake stated coolly, holding out a hand to the psychic youth.

… dad…

"Let's take this inside… it's not necessarily safe out here right now…."

From there the rest of the day was filled with informalities and quiet, unacknowledged fears and somber remembrance of those recently lost. At one point Dean even joined the crowd… but somewhere along the lines, amidst the drunken stupor of drowning the sorrow of death, Nadia slipped away from view unnoticed.

Hours passed them by; the thick black cloak of night closed in and swaddled the quiet neighborhood in the whisper of unknown fear. Well, unknown to those living 'normal' lives.

Tossing back the last swig of his Corona, a sting of absence rang through a cloud of drunkenness.

Where's Nadia? When did she leave?

"I'll be right back… bathroom…" padding through the house the uncomfortable jab of premature silence haunted every inch of the elder Winchester, but a buzzing… no, a thrumming caught his attention. It was coming from the front yard.

What he found was almost shocking.

The jet black Camaro engine rumbled dangerously, accompanied by the booming bass that carried the blaring music into every corner of the neighborhood.

Kansas?

To make it worse, smoke billowed from the windows, triggering the hunter to slip into rescue mode. Within seconds he'd thrown open the front door and made his way to the car in question.

"Nadia!" he gasped, flinging open the door to the vehicle as more smoke drained from within. Inside the car, it was as if she had barely noticed his presence; one hand rested on a nearly empty cup of vodka/cranberry, the other hand rested limply on the steering wheel with a cigarette wedged between her fore and middle fingers, her knees tightly tucked against her chest with bare feet planted on the edge of her seat with only her toes hanging over, her head drunkenly laid against the seat's headrest. A moment or two past before she rolled it slowly over to her comrade.

"Look in the mirror and tell me

Just what you see

What have the years of your life

Taught you to be?

Innocence dying in so many ways

Things that you dream of are lost

Lost in the haze

Hold on, baby, hold on

'Cause its closer than you think

And you're standing on the brink"

"Hey Dean." She mumbled quietly, as if her words would somehow make things worse for the situation at hand.

"Hold on, baby, hold on

'Cause there's something on the way

Your tomorrow's not the same as today

Don't you recall what you felt

When you weren't alone

Someone who stood by your side

A face you have known

Where do you run when it's too much to bear?

Who do you turn to in need

When nobody's there?"

"Who are you listening to?" why are you out here all by yourself? You know better than me how dangerous it is right now.

"Outside your door he is waiting

Waiting for you

Sooner or later you know

He's got to come through

No hesitation and no holding back

Let it all go and you'll know

You're on the right track."

"I found her iPod… she'd made a playlist especially for this kind of… situation. Just for me." Worrying her lower lip, she turned her head to scowl at the rearview mirror before continuing, "It's her 'goodbye', Dean."

The howling guitar filled the void of silence for the both of them.

How the hell do I react to that…?

"I haven't cried since we left the hospital… I mean, you have to cry over something like that… she was my sister; she deserves at least that much. Right?" Now, he'd seen plenty of people attempt to impersonate Sam's signature 'puppy eyes' throughout his life, but until this point, no one had ever done it successfully; from the driver seat of her car, haloed in smoke, the huntress not only used his brother's look perfectly… but it seemed to surpass the power it usually held when Sam used it.

Huffing, he turned his gaze downward in thought and when his gaze returned to the girl in mourning, the intensity of her look only seemed to deepen. Pursing his lips with a little smirk, he held up his index finger, silently asking for a second.

And in her moment of acquiescence, her eyes closed only to find him gone when they opened again. In shock to her discovery, she hadn't even heard the passenger door open beside her.

"Now, I can't exactly speak from experience… even with the recent death of…"

John.

"Yea… well, I guess with all that factored in… Sam and I are right where you were yesterday morning. And, going with what dad would have wanted for my brother and me… Nadia… they wouldn't have wanted us to cry. What they would have wanted… is for us to fight a little harder. It's like you said last night… we've got nothing left to lose, why hold back now?" He said with a careful eye, observing how each word affected his companion; all the while he took the cup and burning cigarette from her hands as she looked closer to falling asleep with every syllable.

"Giving Vodka and Cranberry juice another try?" she said with closed eyes and a raised eyebrow… the good eyebrow, anyway.

"Ha, good god no… I just think you've had enough for the both of us." Pausing, a new thought occurred to him, "You did wait for the hospital meds to wear off before drinking… right?"

::giggle:: No… those little bastard pills are STILL going strong.

"Wha… Nadia… you're smarter than that! What the shit were you thinking?!" with that, Big Brother mode was sent into overdrive.

Uh… I was thinking, 'wow, I just lost my Emmy… life sucks right about now, maybe I should mourn the only way I know how… oh, I'm still drugged… oh well, it's a plus right now.'

"Why, was that a bad idea?" And he did find it a bad idea… an extremely stupid idea, but all things considered, he knew she could be doing a lot worse.

"C'mon, I think you've had enough for tonight. I won't get in your way if you want to get worse tomorrow… but, you've had enough bullshit for today. Let's get you to bed."

Tugging at her almost limp body, mumbled words slipped half-hazardly out into the night. "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone… it's awfully dark without Sunshine…"

"Uh… well, it is way past midnight."

"No… I used to call her Sunshine, Dean." She corrected drunkenly before singing once more, "Ain't no Sunshine when she's gone."

"Then it's a good thing our kind does better in the dark, huh?"