Chapter 2

It took most of Kaitlyn's restraint not to run out of the Roadhouse. It took even more not to run to the "safety" of her car. Once inside the familiar surroundings, she felt more at ease. She sent up a quick prayer and headed back to her room at the motel.

She entered the room quickly and stood with her back leaning against the door and took a calming breath. Unfortunately the feeling of being watched didn't fade. She paced for a while trying to figure out what was going on and what she would do. She knew that she would eventually have to tell Sam and Dean what was going on. If Sam was as powerful as she thought he might be, he'd find out anyway. She just didn't want to say anything, yet, as she had no idea what to tell them. "Um, hey guys, I think I'm being watched by someone who's not really there…and…oh yeah, I've started hearing voices, too…and no, not in a telepathic way." Yeah. That would go over really well.

She'd questioned her sanity once already this year. It had been a very dark time for her when her abilities started. She was already an emotional basket case and then the added confusion of becoming an empath nearly sent her over the edge. She had even considered checking herself into an institution. As much as she loved them, her friends really had nothing to offer her that didn't further confuse her or make her question who she was. After some serious soul searching, she had decided she wasn't crazy and she wasn't less of a Christian or less human for the abilities she possessed. She didn't really believe she was crazy now, either. At this thought, she again heard the chuckle that she'd come to associate with chills running up and down her spine.

"Oh – You're not crazy; not yet, anyway." The malevolent whisper from earlier taunted.

"Shut up!" she said aloud. This served only to spur the presence into a fit of laughter. Grabbing her head with both hands, she let out a frustrated growl and sat hard on the edge of her bed.

What's going on? Think…Unable to focus her thoughts, the only thing she could think do to right now was try to get some sleep; so she started to get ready for bed. In the past, music had been soothing to her soul, especially when she didn't want to feel alone. She turned on the radio in hopes that the music would have the same comforting effect now, when she was not alone yet should be.

In a further attempt to ignore the presence that was haunting her, she turned her thoughts to her first face-to-face encounter with Sam and Dean. She thought about what Sam had said about the Demon having plans and about the other "gifted" people whom she could neither sense, nor had lost their mothers in a fire. She couldn't help but think there was some connection there. What was the point of the fire if the Demon could get what it wanted without it? Were there others who had been through the fire that she could not sense? Were there other fires where no one had survived?

Kaitlyn was getting exhausted despite the relatively early hour of night. The travel and emotional stress had combined to wear her down, physically, emotionally and mentally. After finishing up her nightly routine, she settled in bed and thought fleetingly that she finally felt alone and hoped the night would be restful for her. She should have known better than to think the presence would leave her alone for long, not with the connection growing ever stronger.

Sometime during the night her dreams turned into nightmares. The scene was a familiar one, though one she never wanted to see. She opened her eyes to find herself trapped in a car. Her head thrummed from its impact with her side window and blood streaked the side of her face from where the glass and her skin had both given way, neither proving the stronger combatant in the collision. In fact, her whole right side was experiencing pain of varying degrees. Her shoulder and arm had impacted with the side door and she half expected her arm to be broken, but, at the very least, it would be deeply bruised. The seatbelt had rubbed and cut into her neck from the friction of the sudden movement into the restraint. Stunned by the impact, she was unable to escape the metal cage as death settled next to her with deafening quiet.

Because this nightmare was based on real memories, she knew without having to turn her head that death sat next to her in the seat her husband had just occupied moments before. She didn't want to look. She knew what she'd see, but as with most dreams, she had little control over what her own body did. So with tremendous effort, both from turning her head and not wanting to, she looked. She began to cry a little as she reached out a trembling hand to touch the face of the man next to her. Though she never felt the guilt that Sam had, she did know the sorrow that came with losing the one you love – the one with whom you were meant to share your life. There was nothing she could do for him. He was already gone. The impact of the truck into his side of the car had been crushing. She could see blood dripping from his head as it hung limp. He looked like a man praying. His left hand was still holding the steering wheel, pinned to the wheel by the side of the car as the car had collapsed in on itself. She never knew what the exact cause of death was. It hadn't mattered to her. All she knew, all she needed to know, was that her beloved husband would never again occupy that seat. She would never again sit at his right hand, hear him laugh, listen to his dreams and plan the rest of their lives together. Death had parted them, and far too soon and she was no longer Mrs. Brian Ross.

The memory suddenly shifted and the nightmare became even more horrifying. As she ran her fingers through Brian's hair and she traced the line of his face, tears running freely, her dead husband turned his head to look at her. She pulled her hand back as if burned and inhaled sharply, jumping and pressing as far into her seat and her side of the car as she could. As he smiled, a predatory smile she had never seen on the living man's face, she fumbled to release the seatbelt, but somehow knew her attempts to escape would prove futile. She would not be allowed to escape this dream. His face morphed into someone else's, someone she had never seen before, but recognized by its feel. He continued to smile and seemed to become more delighted the harder she struggled to get away. Sobs were the only thing free to escape as sorrow mixed with frustration and terror. It was his turn to reach out this time, this unwelcome stranger. She became still as he reached for her, hoping that if she was still enough, he wouldn't hurt her. His cold eyes fixed hers as he mimicked her actions, tracing the line of her face with a far too cold hand. He grabbed her chin, leering all the more, and leaned toward her, the side of his head cut and slicked with blood, shards of glass sticking out here and there like some bizarre facial piercings. "I'm just getting started." He whispered with a chuckle.

As he dropped his hand from her face, her subconscious felt its release and she woke from the nightmare. She sat up, pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Rocking slightly, she sat in the dark, eyes wide, praying for wisdom and strength. God knew, she would need it.

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To be continued...

A/N - Thanks so much, again, to my beta-er - J.A. Carlton - and my editors - mom and my sister. Thank you to all who took the time to review and to those who've taken note of my little story in other ways. I appreciate the love!