Defiance

Courtesy of another of Sam's death visions, the Winchesters are on the hunt again. This time, though, it's different. They know that the daughter killed her father. They know she's dangerous, her telekinetic powers well beyond those of Max. There's just one problem. They don't know which one of the girls killed him.

One Down, Two to Go

"Ok, this is defiantly the last time he gets to follow the girl." Dean growled. He'd once again called John, and, even though he and Sam knew he was fine, he still didn't answer. It was still the answering machine that'd been on it for some time now. If the is an emergency, call my son, Dean…

He walked over to the TV, and switched it on. It wasn't like there was going to be anything on. Most people where happy with the 'everyday' dramas that had people getting pregnant, amnesia, cheating and going crazy. They were, in his opinion, the most idiotic shows, and he wondered why others watched them. They could get all that drama from their lives, without others adding to it.

He wondered briefly what it would be like for that kind of thing to be his worst problem. Not to have to worry about whether holy water and salt could harm it. Or if the death in the paper was normal or not. He sighed and scratched the back of his head. He wouldn't get far with that kind of thinking.

As he didn't really want to watch the news, he flipped the TV off and collected things from the Impala's trunk. Mostly things that he and Sam hadn't used in a while. They probably didn't need cleaning, but he'd prefer to clean something that didn't need cleaning then have it break when he needed it.

As the clock ticked the time away and he cleaned more and more weapons, Dean wondered absent-mindedly what Sam was up to.

Sam carefully drove a few cars behind Alex. The stolen car was different to what he was used to, but he worked it out quickly. After all, a car was a car. He knew Dean would disagree. But then, Sam had never met anyone that looked after their car so well. Dean loved that car. He wasn't sure that if, god forbid, the 1967 Chevrolet Impala did get into a crash, Dean would let a mechanic work on it. He'd probably just stay somewhere and work until it was done, and that was saying something.

Alex's car made a right turn, and Sam made the same one, hoping to get at least one car between him and Alex. No one else turned between them. He noticed anther car, coming out of their drive, though, and slowed to let them on the road before him.

After much of this, Sam finally eased the car to the curb. The door opened with a few creeks, but Sam slipped silently into the shadows, hiding in them. He wasn't sure how well it worked, but Alex didn't give a shout of alarm or come running over. That was something, Sam thought.

He watched as she walked into the hall, full of others before understanding dawned on him. Alex went to the bathrooms to change into the uniform, and Sam was surprised to see she wore a black belt. The classes she was talking about were martial art, although he didn't yet know which one. He'd learnt a few on the road, all from his farther or brother. They hadn't really stayed in one spot long enough to actually go to classes.

He would have enjoyed the classes more, he though, as he watched. Dean had just used more and more complex moves that he'd learned. Sam would have to try work out how they were done, avoid them and use it on Dean. All they did was fight, not learn any technic. Now, he watched the class warm up and separate into groups, learning their training. The instructors went through the movements step by step, so everyone knew what to do. Then he had them show him how to do it, step by step, so he could correct them. Finally, they executed it on others there, on mat.

Alex as one of the instructors there, was helping the kids learn to do things properly. She was with the smaller kids, patiently showing them how to do it. She seemed to be teaching them how to punch for their hight, kick with power and properly block. After a while of this, they all lined up and did a pattern. They all did the same thing, and he could tell she prompted them so they would do it at the same time. Their movements were a bit clumsy and unsure, but she corrected any mistakes. They all did it in the shape of an 'I', following the same pattern, never breaking it: a block left, a stepping punch, spin around with a block, another stepping punch, block left, three stepping punches, block right, one stepping punch, spin, another stepping punch, block left, three stepping punches, block right, one stepping punch, spin, block, one stepping punch.

After an hour, they went back to the large group they'd been in before, with everyone there. They went through some kicks, punches and blocks before they cooled down, bowed and said goodnight. Sam walked to his car, got in and waited for Alex to pass. He had to wait for another few to go before he could pull in, but that'd been what he wanted.

He followed her back to her house. Helen was at the door, waving to her. A smile crept onto his face as he watched, happy for the girls. They had each other, they could comfort themselves. The killer probably didn't need comfort, but she gave it. Whoever she was.

Dean looked up from the gun he was cleaning as Sam walked in. He didn't look worried, meaning that nothing bad had happened, but then, he wasn't ecstatic, meaning that he still had no idea who killed the farther. Dean went back to cleaning the gun.

"Martial arts." Sam said. Dean looked up again, rasing an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" Dean asked. He wasn't sure his if brother was going insane, wanting to fight or join a club. He had no idea why exactly he was mentioning martial arts.

"Alex's classes? They're martial art classes." Sam answered.

"Right." Dean nodded his head. He remembered now. Although, he mused that neither of them had talked to the other sisters. Sam was usually the one who was the sucker for details. Sam's obsession with Alex was starting to scare Dean. Sam normally had a reason for doing things, but right now, he was running blind.

"She's a black belt." Sam continued. Dean's eyebrows rose again.

"A black belt?" Dean repeated. He let out a whistle when Sam nodded. "That'll be fun." Dean smiled at Sam, as Sam walked away, disgusted. He was fairly sure that Sam knew he was joking, but if he didn't Dean wasn't about to correct him.

Sam's headache was getting worse. He walked to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face when it reached breaking point. He fell back, hitting the wall as images crowded into his head.

He recognised the room. It was Alex's lounge. He couldn't see anyone there, though. The TV was on, but it wasn't making any sound. The sound of giggling in the hall was followed by the door closing. The sound came closer.

Stacy came into view, very obviously concentrating on the boy with her. Their mouths looked like they'd been welded together, and they were franticly trying to get rid of anything in the way of their naked bodies.

"Stacy!" the voice rang out and instantly destroyed the mood of the couple in the door way, shattering the pieces and burning the shards.

Stacy whipped around, her flushed cheeks rising in colour as she realised she'd been caught. Her hair was out, and messed, tangles running all though it. Her lipstick was smeared across her face, her clothes half off.

"What are you doing home?" Stacy demanded, although it was obvious that she knew she wasn't the one in control.

"You should go now." The male paled at the venom in the voice and back away.

"Y-yeah. I just remembered. I've got something I've got to do. Away from here." He nodded to himself as he practically ran to the door in his flight to get away from whoever was in the room.

The two people left in the room listened to the door open and close, and then the sound of the car screech as the boy begged it to get him out of there as fast as it could.

"What were you doing?" the other girl in the room growled. She sounded completely and utterly pissed.

"What did it look like I was doing? I was having fun! You should try it some time." Stacy growled back.

"Really? Oh, that's a relief. You should try your hand at acting, because I must have mistaken you as a slut!"

"Excuse me?" Stacy gasped. He eyes were as wide as saucers, bugging out of her head.

"You heard me. You were celebrating that dad's death, weren't you?"

"Sorry, but I don't see you hiding in you room, refusing to talk to anyone. I'm just moving on with my life, the way I should." Stacy had now gone from shocked to angry. It was as plain as day to see. She was now standing high, her eyes flashing at her sister, showing her refusal to back down.

"Well I'm glad as hell that I'm not you. If everyone lived the way you think we should, we'd be swamped with children and we'd all die young." Stacy looked like she'd been slapped. Sam could see the exact moment that she went from angry to livid

"You know what?" he voice was low now, very different from the shouting that'd been going on before. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were the one who killed dad." Her voice was laced with poison, her words dripping with it.

"What?" the other girl's voice was low now too, but not full of hate. Hers shook, as though someone was shaking her voice box as she talked.

"You were the one that took being adopted the worst. You were the one constantly asking him about your real parents."

"Yeah, I was the youngest. I thought I had more of a chance with them." Her voice sounded close to tears now.

"He always loved me more, and you knew it. If he was going to tell anyone who their parents were, it wasn't going to be you." These, Sam knew, were words you never said to anyone. Not unless you really hated them. Not unless there was nothing good between you. Because once they were said, you could never take them back.

"That's not true!" the other girl cried. Stacy was slowly and painfully breaking down this girl's armour.

"You were his least favourite. You probably got so sick of it, and you just snapped."

"I would never hurt him, and you know it!" she was getting some of her strength back. He voice didn't sound so shaky, and it carried more conviction.

"If you just called the police and told them what happened, you'd be in jail. You didn't want that. All you wanted was your precious real mummy and daddy. Maybe you killed him so you could find them easier."

"NO!" Stacy was dragged into the room, and pinned on the wall. Other things seemed to be picked up, and flung around the room. "I would never hurt dad." Stacy's arms came up and clawed at her throat. Her struggles held less and less strength as the time passed, and eventually her eyes rolled back into her head, and her body went limp.

Her body made a sickening thud as it hit the floor.

"Sammy?" Dean called as he heard his brother hit the wall in the bathroom. He got up, the gun he was cleaning forgotten as he moved to help Sam. His heart rate accelerated when he got no response from Sam.

He reached the room, and noticed Sam lying on the wall where he'd fallen. Dean quickly scanned the room, making sure that no one else was there before he knelt to help Sam. Sam moaned he looked at him, his eyes darting around under their lids.

Dean shook his brother a few times, calling his name. Getting no response, Dean he carefully picked him up and carried him to one of the beds. Sam started shaking when he got there, and Dean quickly grabbed a towel, wet it and placed it on his brother's forehead. He was really sacred now. If Sam had been cursed or something, he had no idea what he could do.

He sat on the bed next to him to watch and make sure he was ok. It wasn't long before Sam woke up, gasping.

"Sam! Sammy, you ok?" Dean practically lunged forward in his haste to make sure his brother wasn't going to die before his eyes, and he jerked to a stop as though he'd come to the end of his lead when Sam looked at him.

Sam's eyes were slightly haunted, and his body was covered in sweat. He was panting slightly, as though he'd just come back from a run. Dean had seen the look, not many times, but enough to know what it was. He'd never seen Sam react so violently, either. They were getting more powerful.

"Another precognition?" Dean asked, although he was fairly sure he already knew the answer. Sam nodded and Dean gave him some time to collect his thoughts.

"So, what'd you find out?" Dean asked when Sam calmed.

"One thing's for sure." Dean nodded, to tell Sam to continue. "Stacy's not the killer."

A/N: I had to put this up today! Just for those who don't know, today, the 21 of June, is the shortest day in 2010. Cool, huh? Very Supernatural. I thought it was the perfect opportunity, anyway. Another big thanks to Havz, mrs. sam winchester, artzgrrl6 and VeekaaIzhanez

kia

-Jasper's Imaginary Friend