This is set sometime after the end of Season 1. While it doesn't break canon to my knowledge, it is definitely AU. With Ellie and Charlotte in tow, the boys head back to Lawrence because Sam thinks Missouri might be able to help figure out what to do with a six-year-old psychic.

Disclaimer: The Winchester boys aren't mine. The Colt isn't mine. Wish the car was mine. But I can only blame myself for the Circle of Enoch.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Charlotte Webb, Ellie Jenkins, Missouri Mosely

Rating: M ( Dean likes to swear. There's some angst, some schmoop, and adult situations.)

Summary: Prophecies suck ass.

Feedback: Absolutely! Concrit is always welcome!

Miscellaneous: As always, this would not have been possible without the brilliance of JMM0001, who pointed out certain situations as out-of-sorts for the boys; I'm hoping I've rectified that. Much thanks to wenchpixie, who always consoles me during my daily revisions while attempting to break me of my compulsive editing habit; she went above and beyond on this one dealing with my embarrassment factor. Pheebs1 once again put herself into the hazardous line of duty for fangirls everywhere. All three acted as my betas for this chapter. The good parts are because of them. The bad parts are all me.

Chapter Twelve: Up Around the Bend

If there was a bed bug out there biting some kid on the ass at night, Sammy had eight different theories and could pin down the exact make of the bug.

Dean blamed Dad and the games he was always coming up with while they were growing up – like the one where Dad would give them clues and they had to figure out what the hell was going on; sometimes, Dad made them up but usually he based them on his own jobs. Sam would come up with different scenarios and what he would do to fix each one of them. Dean used to watch his father's face, guarded but serious, as his younger brother rattled off each possible outcome in a sing-song voice – and Dad was always struggling to play it straight by the end because Sammy threw in stuff just to make their father laugh. It was a hell of a lot better than watching them fight.

Dean preferred the direct approach – figure out the problem, start with the simple solution first, don't waste time looking at the lala-land crap until you exhausted everything else. But Sam lived for the esoteric shit; when his younger brother came up with the solution to their current problem, Dean was amazed at its simplicity.

Sam wanted to go back to freaking Lawrence.

Back to see Missouri, anyway. It made sense. They hadn't heard from Missouri in months, but Dean guessed that she kept her fingers on the pulse of what was happening; she'd joke about not being able to pick things up over the phone, but there was something chasing Sam like thunder chased lightning – and it was powerful as all Hell. Dean wouldn't be surprised if every two-bit psychic out there was picking up on something as they drove past, even if they didn't know what it was.

Sam had his theories, how it wasn't exactly coincidence that put Charlie and the blonde asshole in that college bar; and he was adamant that things had to happen in a certain way. Charlie had argued that nothing was foreordained, that people still had a choice. You have the most important choice of all, Sam. But her eyes flickered towards Dean when she said it, and her face crumpled like she had just thought of something she didn't want to admit to herself – and Dean thought part of her was right.

It didn't help Charlie's argument that she looked as surprised as Dean felt every time they kissed; her fingers always brushing his right temple, biting her lip as she watched him – probably trying to figure out what a man like Dean Winchester was doing with her. Dean asked himself the same goddamn question, except he wanted to know why he wasn't trying to do anything else – he sure as hell wanted to taste every part of her.

But Dean would bet the Impala on the fact that the Circle had had no clue what Charlotte Webb was going to do when she met the Winchesters – Dean wasn't about to forget Alex Masters' threat to kill her any time soon. Hell, she probably didn't even know what she was going to do – for all that Charlie talked about Washington D.C., she was taking her sweet time getting there. The best thing that ever happened to me was Sam pushing me into the back of your car. Sam would probably chalk her change of heart up to the second prophecy, the one discovered by Charlie's old teacher.

Prophecies sucked ass.

He glanced in the rear view mirror, caught a glimmer of sunlight against Charlie's hair as she bent over – reading one of the books they picked up at a used bookstore back in Nashville to Ellie. The little girl was curled up on Charlie's lap, cheek resting on the redhead's shoulder while she listened to Charlie's calm voice reading out loud. Charlie's face was serious; like she was working on her translations instead of reading Winnie the Pooh. Every couple minutes, she'd ask Ellie a question and wait for an answer, and the little girl would respond with a giggle and tug on Charlie's hair. Dean grinned.

He'd bet more than the car that the Circle of Enoch had no clue about Ellie Jenkins.

And the Winchesters were going to keep it that way – even if that meant going back to Lawrence. Dean swallowed. Mom. He hated fucking Lawrence. Sam was right and Missouri would help them; he wasn't sure how but if anyone could deal with a psychic six-year-old, it was Missouri Mosely. Dean sighed; he needed to stop promising himself that he was never going back home, because the director of their little play kept pushing Dean right back onto the set of his own personal Hell.

The mile sign flashed by; they were thirteen miles outside of Lawrence city limits. Fuck me. Charlie touched the back of his neck. Dean looked at her in the rear view mirror, grimacing when their eyes met; she looked about as happy to be going to Lawrence as he did, when Sam was talking about how great an idea it was and how Missouri was going to help them.

"Won't be long now," Dean said softly. "Missouri's house is on the outskirts of town." Charlie raised his grimace with a scowl.

"Do you think she'll like me?" Ellie asked, her voice serious.

Dean flashed a grin in the little girl's direction. "I'll kick anyone's ass if they don't."

"Jesus, Dean!" Sam yelped. "Watch your mouth."

"It's OK, Sam. Dean and I made a deal about his bad words," Ellie said slowly. Oh, God, I told her it was our little secret.

Sam groaned. "A deal?"

Dean nodded. "I slip the little squirt a Ding Dong every day, and we're square. I can use all the bad words I want." He winked at his little brother. "Besides, Geek Boy, how is Ellie going to learn new bad words? The way I see it, I'm just teaching Ellie what not to say."

Sam didn't say anything to that, just rolled his eyes when Charlie started laughing. Ellie kissed Sam on the cheek. "I'm a good girl. I won't use bad words. And if I don't know if a word is bad, I'll ask you." She smiled brightly. "But I love Ding Dongs," Ellie added. "And Dean's good about sharing, Sam. He gives the other one to Charlie!" Crap! That was supposed to be their other little secret.

"You are all going to be the death of me," Sam said lightly. He raised an eyebrow. "You know Missouri's not going to let you feed Ellie Ding Dongs every day." And then the little bastard was grinning. "She might not even let you feed Charlie Ding Dongs every day."

Dean just grinned back and continued on down the highway, turning off the exit that led to Missouri's neighborhood. He sighed – early spring in Lawrence brought with it flowers and new leaves on the trees and that reminded him about all the times he used to play with Dad in the backyard before Sammy was born. Dean never really had a chance to be a kid after the fire, but that wasn't going to happen to Ellie. She was getting a chance. And if Missouri could help, coming back to Lawrence might even be worth it.

There wasn't a car in front of Missouri's house, which meant she didn't have a client. That would make the introductions easier, no outsider to explain things to if things went down the way that Dean suspected they might. A sharp stab of fear jabbed through his stomach; Dean guessed it was coming from Charlie.

He parked the Impala in front of Missouri's mailbox. Sam had his door open immediately, that goofy grin of his plastered on his face. The curtains in the living room swished closed, as though someone had been looking out the window and didn't want to be seen. Like she was waiting for us. Ellie was scampering out the back right after Sam, grabbing his hand as they walked up to the front steps.

Charlie opened her door slowly, taking a deep breath as she set her feet on the ground. "Don't worry, Girl Genius," Dean said softly, extending his hand to help her stand. "Missouri will like you, too." The moment their hands touched, he felt another stab in his stomach. He frowned.

"Did you like me the first time we met?" Charlie asked.

"Sure did," Dean replied. "I wanted to push you into the back of that booth and have my way with you, but that's your fault for using your freaking mojo." He kissed her lightly on the mouth, mostly because Charlie looked so shocked by his answer. "I did think you were a bitch later on," Dean added, pitching his voice low, "But that might have been the succubus poison."

"Good to know." A small smile crossed Charlie's face.

Dean started walking around the car, his arm jerking back as he moved away from her; Charlie was holding onto his hand as tightly as she had three nights ago on the back of the car. Oh, fuck me. I'm holding hands with a chick! But he didn't let go. Dean shrugged – he'd blame her for it, anyway, if Sam decided to be a jerk about it. "Still doesn't mean that I'm not paying you back for the crack you made about my baby, Charlie."

"Which one?" Charlie returned. That damn mischievous look was slapped right on her face.

"That'd be too easy." Dean waggled his eyebrows at her as they followed Sam and Ellie up the walk. "It's more fun watching your brain work while you try to figure it out." He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Smart girls are sexy." Charlie blushed, and he gave a low chuckle. "And when you do that, I just want to throw you in the back seat and – " Her elbow poked his stomach as Sam rang the doorbell.

The front door opened, and Missouri's face peered out from behind the screen door. "That you, Sam Winchester?" she asked suspiciously, slowly pushing out the screen door. Dark eyes looked Sam up and down before flickering on the rest of them. "Or the demon in your belly?"

"It's me." Sam's voice was soft, and his entire body shivered. Not the reunion you were expecting, little brother? And that wasn't even the obvious question. The obvious question was how in the hell did some small-time psychic in Lawrence know about Shemhezai.

"Just asking," Missouri returned laconically. "Given the company you boys been keeping since you left." Her eyes focused on Charlie; the redhead looked stunned but then squared her shoulders – holding Dean's hand so tightly, Charlie was cutting off his circulation. "You do know there's a right side and a wrong side to this thing?" Missouri added. "And that you have to be careful who you trust?"

"Jacob sent me to Sam Winchester with all of his research notes and a copy of every archive relevant to the text," Charlie said gently. "And if Richard Masters finds that out, Eugenia, Jacob will die." Eugenia? Charlie lowered her eyes, and she added, "He was my only friend when I was growing up in that house."

The psychic started, a strange expression on her face. "You've got a little fire in you, girl," Missouri said. Dean grinned. "Don't even finish whatever it is you're thinking, Dean Winchester," the psychic snapped, eyes glaring at him.

"Eugenia?" Dean managed, his mouth twitching. There were more important questions to ask, could see them working on Sam's face – all the different scenarios that his little brother could come up with in his head just by reading the right words in the right newspaper article. This wasn't a time for odds; Dean's gut told him that Missouri Mosely – or whatever the hell they were supposed to call her now – was just as big a part of this thing as anyone.

Missouri looked like she was getting ready to launch herself past the screen door at him, but her hard eyes focused on the hand that was holding Charlie's and softened; Charlie's knuckles were white, skin tight across the joints. "I'm the same Missouri," she said softly. "Eugenia died the night we broke the Circle." Another perplexed glance in Charlie's direction, before her eyes focused on Ellie standing with one hand in Sam's and the other snaking around Charlie's waist. "I was just getting ready to make some dinner, and I'm not one to turn family away from my doorstep – even if we have some hard things to talk about," the psychic added.

"Family?" The look in Sam's eyes when he asked the question made Dean's throat ache, and his little brother's voice cracked.

Missouri nodded, and she swept Sam up in a hug. "I'm glad to see you, Sam Winchester," she added, dark eyes shining with unshed tears. "So glad that you're both here safe. Your daddy was worried sick."

"Not worried enough to call us," Sam said, his voice short – but his hold on the psychic tightened.

"Maybe he was worried about me," Charlie said. Dean looked at her, and he wished like hell he could tell her that she was wrong. "I wouldn't blame him for that," she added, "Knowing how I was raised." Her gray eyes watched Missouri's body jerk at the admission, so full they were going to burst.

"We can talk about that later," Missouri said with a quick cough. "Right now, you all need to eat something besides Ding Dongs." And she looked right at Dean when she said it. She reached out to touch Ellie on the side of the head. "We'll talk during dinner, and then you boys can get your things and bring them in the house. It's not a motel like where you're used to staying, but its yours for as long as you need…" Her voice trailed off, and she pulled Sam with her through the front door. Ellie was right on their heels.

Dean watched the screen door slam shut behind them.

"She's scared of me, Dean," Charlie said, looking him right in the face. "I knew it wasn't going to be easy. I have a lot to answer for…" She swallowed, letting go of his hand. "Jacob told me it was going to be hard." Charlie leaned against the side of the house, hair stark against the chipped white paint. "But I thought she'd be angry at me for what my mom did or upset because I was raised by them. And I was ready for that." Charlie's arms held her stomach. "People shouldn't be scared of me."

Dean could have told her something – that it wasn't her choice who raised her, that she suffered just as much as anyone did because of her mother and she had the scars to prove it – but he didn't; just placed both hands on the wall behind her, braced on either side of her head, and leaned down to kiss her. It was salty at first, and his mouth closed over a ragged breath – but then Charlie's fingers wound through his hair and he pulled her towards him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam watched Missouri's hands as she deftly kneaded pie crust dough on her red-speckled countertop. She caught his blue-green stare with her dark-eyed one and gestured with one flour-covered hand. "You can't chop celery while you're sitting there staring at me, Sam."

"Guess not," he replied lazily. Ellie was sitting at the kitchen table, coloring in an old book with some crayons Missouri said she kept for her clients' children. "Cooking was always Dean's thing."

"Looks like Dean's busy with his other thing," Missouri said lightly. She sighed, pulled out a rolling pin from the drawer. She cocked her head, staring right at Sam. "You know what's going on, don't you, Sam?"

"I do." His voice was stronger than he felt inside. Shemhezai screamed every time Missouri opened her mouth. Old power, it whispered, and she knows how to use it. Nothing angered Shemhezai like one of the Blessed Children, the ones who believed it was their duty to die in defiance of him. It had the same reaction whenever Aaron showed up – even in dreams, where Aaron could do nothing but watch.

"I don't think you do." Missouri frowned, and then turned to begin rolling out the dough. "Sam, that girl traveling with you. She's part of the Circle of Enoch. You know what that is?"

Sam nodded. "I know what the Circle was – and about how the children who would become the Twelve were hidden to keep them from fulfilling the prophecy where I destroy the world." He began chopping celery again, listening to the rhythmic shock of the knife against the cutting board. "And I know the Council serves the Grigori."

Missouri snorted. "You think that girl's going to tell you everything, Sam? Her mother was one of my best friends once, and she looks just like her. Blood rings true." There was a catch in Missouri's throat, and her shoulders were shaking when Sam looked at her. "You know what burned your mother, boy?"

"They say the same thing about her father's blood," Sam replied softly. He could feel the shimmer along his cheekbone, didn't even have to look at his hand to see the blue sigils flicker and fade, but Missouri's eyes widened all the same when she stared at him. "And we know about Azazeal."

"You want me to feel sorry for the daughter of the woman who killed my family, Sam Winchester?" Missouri's voice was tart, and she glared at him – rolling pin raised in one hand. But her eyes looked uncertain.

"No," Sam returned, and he could feel the rumble in his voice – another flicker across his cheekbone as the Ziv Zakai murmured in his veins. "This was never about anyone but me, Missouri. I'm what you should be afraid of. Some days, it's all I can do to keep Shemhezai inside." And then the power left him, just like it always did, and he was just Sam Winchester – ex-law school student with an ache in his throat and a demon slithering inside his ribcage. "I'm barely hanging on, Missouri. "

"Which is another reason you and your brother need to keep an eye on that girl," Missouri said softly, but her voice had no strength behind it. "No one stays in the Circle now and remains untainted. You can't trust any of them."

"Unless they weren't part of it in the first place," Sam said, his voice raw. He had to set down the knife; his hand was shaking too hard to cut anymore. "Like your brother."

"Jacob stayed behind for the kids we couldn't save. Just in case…"

"So if you don't trust her, trust him." Sam swallowed. "Jacob's the one who raised her." He smiled suddenly. "And you should listen to Charlotte talk about him. She's got all these funny little stories about growing up with him."

A smile flickered across Missouri's face. "Real shame you didn't get a chance to finish up that law degree, Sam."

He chuckled. "I just think you're focusing on something that isn't the problem." Sam began cutting the celery again, trying to block out the rattle against his rib cage as he took another breath. "I'm the one with a demon inside of him, and I'm the one the Circle wants. I don't just get visions about helping people, Missouri. I get visions about hurting them – because that's what the thing inside needs me to do to help it Ascend. Hurting Dean. Raping Charlotte – along with other girls I've never met." His throat hurt again. "Even Ellie…."

"Just because you see something, that doesn't make it true."

"I know that!" His voice sounded harsh, even to his own ears. "But that doesn't stop the nightmares I have about the world that's coming, things I can't even put into words." But the momentary vision that flashed into his head caused the knife to jerk, and the sharp metal slashed into his index finger. Shemhezai laughed. "Son of a – " It wasn't a deep wound, but it was going to hurt like hell.

"Sam…" Missouri pulled his hand underneath the faucet, turned on water and then held the cut down with pressure – wrapping a paper towel around it while she rummaged in the drawer for a band-aid.

"And the thing talks to me, Missouri. All the time. Sometimes in its own language, and sometimes so that I can understand what's coming – as if the visions and the nightmares aren't bad enough, I get it described in minute detail from something crawling through my bones. I've even got dead men coming to visit me in motel rooms!"

"The Guardians are visiting you?" The band-aid fluttered to the floor.

"Aaron never called himself a Guardian," Sam returned slowly, bending to pick up the band-aid. His finger throbbed. "And he's the only one that's shown up so far, but he's got me doing exercises."

"And Blessed Children, those who fight in Death, will cross the veil and teach the Liberator," the psychic returned softly, dark eyes burning as her throat worked. Missouri placed one hand on his arm. "I'd always hoped that it wasn't you, especially seeing the man you grew up to be. A good man. Your momma would be so proud of you, Sam." She swallowed. "But what's coming could break you all the same."

"The only reason I'm not broken, Missouri, is because I have people who care about me. Dean would still die for me and that's – " Sam felt the burning in his eyes as they filled with tears he damn well wasn't going to shed in front of anyone, even Missouri. "That's something I don't deserve. I don't deserve any of them."

Sam felt a little sick when Missouri turned away from his gaze, and started rolling out her dough. He put the band-aid on his finger, and continued chopping celery in silence.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dinner was two of Missouri's world-famous chicken pot pies, a salad and chocolate cake for dessert; and it was the best food Dean had eaten in months. The psychic listened patiently while he and Sam talked about what happened since the Circle set its trap in Wisconsin, their explanation undercut by moments where all they could do was greedily shovel food into their mouths because it tasted too damn good not to be swallowing; Sam was using some hard biscuits Missouri placed on the table to sop up the savory gravy. Ellie asked for seconds, and even Charlie ate the second piece Missouri put on her plate.

But Charlie only talked when Missouri was directly asking her a question – and Missouri didn't hold back, like she was deliberately trying to trip Charlie up in a lie. At one point, Missouri gave a snort of annoyance before shooting Sam a look and asked a question about Jacob; Charlie started telling a cute little story about cleaning out a library while reciting something called the Hundred Duties. Dean almost up-ended his chair and dragged Charlie out onto the front porch when she pulled out that shy smile of hers, but Missouri smiled back and Dean didn't want to jinx it.

Besides, there was chocolate cake.

"Did you boys even suspect that your daddy was doing something besides hunting?" Missouri asked slowly, handed Sam a plate with a thick slice of cake on it.

"Not a clue," Sam said. "Dad plays his cards pretty close to the chest."

"To protect us," Dean pointed out, handing the plate Missouri gave him to Ellie.

"Not denying that, Dean. Knowing what we know now, I don't even blame him for not telling us the truth."

"Your daddy wasn't just hunting the thing that killed your mother," Missouri said. Her eyes widened when Dean handed his second plate to Charlie. He grinned at her. Got manners when I need them. She grinned back, shook her head and continued, "He's been building an army. Waiting for the day that the Circle makes it move against Sam. Waiting for the foretold signs." Her gaze focused on Charlie. "That's where you come in, girl."

"He needs my translation." Charlie said it simply.

Missouri nodded. "John's got a network running across the entire continent – wouldn't be surprised if he's got contacts overseas by now. And there's a safe house. In Nebraska. Built on hallowed ground so the things the Circle might consider sending against you kids can't even touch you, and enough trained Hunters in the area at any given time to protect you against anything that can cross the barriers. But none of that means anything without the prophecy."

"So John Winchester wants me to go to his safe house and translate the prophecy for him." Charlie frowned, glancing at Dean.

"It would keep you safe," Sam said, an earnest expression on his face. "You don't Hunt, and Ellie could stay with you. Neither of you would have to be alone." His voice sounded strange to Dean, but there wasn't an orange flicker inside Sam's eyes when Dean looked at his younger brother. "It's the best for all of us," Sam added.

"Do you even remember what happened the last time I thought about leaving, Sam?" The redhead's voice was soft.

Sam turned his eyes towards his plate, couldn't even look her in the eye. "You said you were leaving as soon as we found Ellie," his little brother returned.

Dean rolled his eyes. "We all said a lot of things we didn't mean, dude."

"I still think she'd be safer there," Sam said stubbornly. "Broken bones heal."

"So that's your decision?" Charlie asked, but both Sam and Missouri exchanged another glance and it was like Charlie hadn't asked a goddamn thing.

"I'll call in the morning and have them send some boys out to pick you girls up." Missouri pursed her lips critically while she looked at Charlie. "It's the right decision, honey. You're hurt right now, and you're the only one who can do what Jacob sent you here to do. You can't help my boys the way they need to be helped on the road."

"That's probably true," Charlie returned softly, her cheeks red. She focused on Dean, and it looked like she was going to ask him something before shaking her head sharply. She took another ragged breath, and then looked back at Missouri. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to do some translating work tonight before I go to bed – unless you'd like some help with the dishes."

"Sam and Ellie can help me with that," Missouri replied, smiling gently. Dark eyes turned towards Dean. "You can bring Charlotte's things to the attic room." And she turned her smile back to Charlie. "The room's nice, honey. It's got a big bed and its own bathroom. You'll like it up there."

"Thank you," Charlie said. "If you'll excuse me…" But she didn't even wait for Missouri to say something else – the redhead pushed back from the table as quick as a shot, and ran up the stairs.

Dean thought about following her, but he sucked at touchy feely crap; he'd only piss her off, anyway. He took his time getting her things out of the Impala, glaring once at Sam and Missouri laughing in the kitchen while the psychic handed Sam dishes to dry on Dean's way up the stairs.

Charlie didn't answer his knock. Dean tried the doorknob, but it was locked – so he left her duffel bag outside the door and went back downstairs. He heard a new voice in the kitchen – low and masculine, with a country accent – as he stepped off the staircase; some guy in a Sex Pistols t-shirt was giving Missouri a piece of his mind, and Dean stepped in to listen even though Sam's eyes widened and his little brother inclined his head like Dean should leave.

Dean Winchester had no problem standing in line, so long as he could tell Missouri Mosely that Charlie wasn't her problem. Sam wasn't getting off easy, either.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I don't know which one of you is the bigger brain trust," a sarcastic voice snapped behind Sam's left shoulder. Fuck. He turned to see Aaron standing right beside Missouri, brown eyes flashing just like his daughter's eyes did when she got angry. "Deciding to send the one girl who can translate the prophecy to Nebraska," Aaron added derisively.

"Last time I checked, Aaron, you weren't in charge anymore," Missouri replied, putting her hands on her hips. "John stepped in and picked up the pieces so we didn't lose what you started. He'd want her there."

"If I thought for one second that JD came up with that half-assed plan, I'd find someone to raise me from the dead and kick his ass myself," Aaron retorted. "He might want her there, but you're using his authority to push his kids around. Playing on Sam's fears. Not letting them make their own decisions."

"Lectures about manipulation coming from you?" Missouri shook her head. "You're just lucky I can't exorcise a Guardian!" It sounded like an old argument.

Sam sucked in a breath. Holy shit! Hard footsteps filtered into the room from the hallway, and Dean's hazel eyes peered into the kitchen – hands jammed in his jean pockets and a pissed-off expression on his face. Sam caught his eyes and tried warning Dean to stay out.

Dean ignored him and sauntered into the room. "Don't know who the hell you are, dude, but I'm here to back you up." He flashed his cockiest grin towards Missouri. "Charlie's not even trying to yell at me, and that pisses me off."

"The name's Aaron," the ghost replied. "You must be Dean Winchester."

That got his older brother's spider senses tingling. Dean's entire stance shifted to the balls of his feet, and he was ready to spring if Aaron made a move. "Not too keen on strangers knowing my name, Punk Rock Boy." Hazel eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. You're Ellie's Uncle Aaron?"

"Guilty as charged," Aaron said, with that same shit-eating smile he used on Sam the first time they'd met. "I've been teaching Sam for weeks now, and someone had to keep an eye on Ellie after you three kids almost blew it by getting cursed." If it was possible, his smile got even wider. "Besides, I know the name of every hotshot that screws my little girl in the backseat of his Chevy Impala."

"Little girl?" Dean's jaw dropped. One hand reached out to steady himself on the counter, and he almost looked like he was going to puke, all color drained from his face, but then Dean shook his head – glaring at Aaron with eyes almost as hard as Missouri Mosely's. "Do you know that girl's putting herself in harm's way just to make you proud of her? Least you could do is see her."

"Guardians make a pact to receive their powers, and part of that is leaving their loved ones behind; otherwise, you'd be tempted to use those powers to protect family, instead of the innocents who need it," Missouri explained tiredly, like they should already know what she was saying. "Your momma broke it herself last year back at the old house." Dean remembered that moment as well as Sam did, burned into his brain like a photograph, and its memory loosened the tightness in Dean's shoulders.

"So you remember what I told you, Sam?" Aaron ignored the question flickering on Dean's face. "The minute you left that motel room, you'd be opening up the door to the prophecy. That the Twelve would start coming to you?"

"Of course I remember," Sam retorted slowly, hands clenched into fists as he kept his voice calm. Dean shot him an angry look, and Sam knew he had another fight coming after this one. "But I'm going to hurt them, Aaron. If that place in Nebraska is safe, they should all wait there."

"I know what's inside you is screaming to get out, Sam, but this was never about safe. Even Ellie will have to fight in the end, much as we'd all rather she didn't." Aaron swallowed, and Dean looked as sick as Sam felt inside. "But Charlie's been with you since this thing started. Ever wonder why that was?" He rolled his brown eyes. "I came out and told you she was a Mystic. Did you try to find out what that means?"

"Mystic?" Dean demanded. Missouri recoiled at the question, looking like you could push her over by breathing too hard.

"Prophecies hide their meaning behind riddles and symbols, but Mystics are attuned to recognize their signs. Charlie can help Sam understand his tasks when the words don't make sense," Aaron replied. Sure, he'll answer the question for goddamn Dean… "It's why Jacob couldn't translate the prophecy without her," the ghost added. "And it's a crappy ass reward to exile her after she fought at your side."

"Don't you see the boy is trying to protect her," Missouri interjected hotly. "And it's not like the girl can't use a cell phone or send Sam an e-mail once she figures something out. John needs to know what's going on as much as Sam does."

Aaron held up both hands. "Can't argue with that, I guess, but it's just as easy to call John with a message." The ghost sighed. "Believe it or not, I actually stopped by to talk about what happened in that cave before I overheard your charming dinner conversation. I'm real proud of the work you all did. All four of you. That power you called – it's why you have to find the others, Sam. It's why you can't be afraid of interacting with them."

And suddenly Aaron's expression wasn't angry, and his eyes began to glow with a soft blue shimmer. "The Twelve don't just serve Shemhezai, Sam. Two sides, remember? If the children don't turn, that power is used to protect you. Protect the world. You had to see it for yourself to know what's at stake. It's why we couldn't help you with the Cordi Peredo." He leaned forwards, a conspiratorial look on his face. "If you get to the others first, Sam, we might actually have a chance in Hell to win this thing."

Sam felt hope stir within him. "And we can keep people from dying."

"Much as I'd love to make that promise, Sam, you know I can't. People die in a war, and that's what's coming," Aaron replied, but he didn't look right at Dean. Sam took that as a good sign – or, at least Aaron's attempt to make amends after ripping him a new one in front of his older brother. "But their deaths will mean something if you can find those kids before the Circle does."

Sam expected Aaron to leave like he always did after saying something cryptic, but the ghost turned to Dean. "You tell my little girl that she was never her mother's daughter. You tell Charlie that she's all mine."

Sam expected Dean to say something snarky about that because the whole thing had chick flick written all over it but Dean nodded like the order was coming from Dad – and that's when Aaron pulled his disappearing act. Missouri was staring at the wall like someone had smacked her in the back of the head. There was no way Dean was going to make Charlie stay in Nebraska if she didn't want to leave them – Sam could see it on his face. And Missouri wasn't going to argue if that was Charlie's decision.

That didn't keep Dean and Missouri from glaring at each other before his older brother left the room, hands back in his jean pockets. Sam thought he should follow, maybe explain why he didn't tell Dean about Aaron, but Sam knew he didn't want to answer the questions floating across his older brother's face. Dean whistled a song that Sam recognized as he walked away, but Sam couldn't remember the words.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam sat with Dean on the stairs leading up to the attic room. Dean had tried for an hour to get Charlie to answer the door, but the girl kept it locked and wasn't talking. It was almost midnight, and their patience had been rewarded by the sounds of water running – followed almost immediately by an off-key warble.

"Ready?" Dean asked.

Sam looked dubious. "I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

"You owe me, Sammy." It was true; Dean hadn't jumped down Sam's back when he finally cornered him to explain about Aaron Webb. Dean guessed Sam didn't want to hurt Charlie, but she probably already knew what a Guardian was – would accept it because that's how the Beata thing worked. Sam even agreed to let Charlie decide whether or not she should go. "Just unlock the door, and I'll do the rest," Dean added.

"What makes you think she's going to be so hot to talk to after you waltz in there without a shirt on?" Sam retorted, but his hand was on the doorknob. He closed his eyes, taking a breath, and they both heard a click as the locking mechanism disengaged.

"I've got a plan, Sam," Dean returned.

Sam snorted. "See you downstairs in about ten minutes," his younger brother said, picking his way past Dean down the stairs.

Dean smiled, opening the door into the room slowly and locking it behind him again – it wouldn't keep out Psychic Car Thief Boy, but at least it would slow him down long enough to get a clue. Because Dean did have a plan, and it didn't matter whether or not he was wearing a shirt. He was just going to try and talk to a girl. He did that all the time.

After a couple of tequila shots.

He tiptoed across the floor and sat down on the bed. Missouri hadn't been lying; he'd know a queen-sized bed anywhere. There was even a desk in the room, and Charlie's laptop was open on top of it – along with a bunch of her more mystical research books if the symbols on the spines meant something. Good thing she never showed those to Sammy. Her glasses were on top of one of the books, and it looked like she was planning a long night.

It took Charlie longer than he thought it should to finish doing whatever she was doing in the bathroom. Dean made himself stay on the bed, back straight against the headboard, because otherwise he'd be kissing her the moment she opened the door. So he forced himself to listen to her singing that goddamn Yoko Ono crap, and wondered why in the hell anyone would want to sing something about getting biblical with a chicken.

God, I need some fucking tequila.

The bathroom door opened and Charlie walked out, drying her hair with a towel. A strangled noise escaped his throat – she was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a stretchy tank top. His eyes narrowed. Unless he was imagining things, that tank top had the little green smartass duck on it from an old cartoon Sam used to watch. A fucking duck! And Sam owes me ten bucks. I knew she didn't wear goddamn granny panties.

Charlie let out a little shriek and dropped the towel.

"There's a duck on your chest," Dean managed. Fuck me…

"What the hell are you doing?" Charlie's cheeks were flushed, and she crossed her arms right underneath her breasts. Dean hoped she had no idea what that was doing to him because that top didn't leave much to the imagination, and the way her hips curved underneath those boxer shorts was proof that she should have ditched granny sweaters a long time ago. "Is there a specific reason you broke into my room, Dean? Or did you just come to ogle me?" she added.

"I'm here to ask you a question," he returned immediately. "But when I'm done, I'm going back to ogling you."

Charlie just looked at him funny, and her jaw clenched – like it took every ounce of willpower just to climb onto the bed and sit next to him. Gray eyes focused on his face and she frowned. "I should have answered the door earlier but I was in a bad mood." She brushed his right arm with her left, her voice soft.

"I grew up with Sam. I think I can handle some emo chick." Dean grinned, watching a drop of water slide down her cleavage. He swallowed suddenly. "So, uh, this Nebraska thing?" Smooth, Winchester…

"I'm not even sure we should leave Ellie in Nebraska, Dean." Charlie's voice was fierce, protective, and she trembled a little. "But Jacob did send me to help Sam, and I've got a plan." She swallowed, and words started tumbling out in a rush. "I don't need to leave. I can get an inverter and work in the car but that means Sam won't be able to hook up his iPod when he's driving. I spent the last three hours building a resource index, and I can use that to pinpoint what I need to have with me in the car, and…" Charlie raised her chin as she took a breath. If it was possible, she was talking even faster. "When my cast comes off, I want you and Sam to teach me how to defend myself. That way, I can work in the motel room while you guys are on a job. And I can still help Sam with his meditation exercises if I stay. Maybe even help you with your Gift if you want to learn. Unless – " A shadow crossed her face. "You want me to leave?"

"Hell, no!" He answered before he could stop himself. That didn't make me sound like a freaking dork… Dean Winchester didn't need anything but his weapons, his car and his little brother; why the hell did it matter whether a scrawny redhead left the band?

"Good, because the next part of my plan involved a Vespa scooter."

"Your plans really suck." Dean snorted when she grinned back at him. "You thought you could chase the Impala riding a scooter named after a princess from Planet Druidia?"

"Actually, she was named after the scooter."

"Nothing gets past you, Girl Genius." Dean shook his head. "But last time I checked, your scrawny ass still fit in my car." He leaned towards her, pitching his voice low. "You think I'm letting you loose on a scooter?"

"Then I guess you're stuck with me," Charlie returned with a small laugh, leaning her head on his shoulder. Damp hair brushed against his skin, a shiver through her back as she settled against him. "I even called Jimmy when we were in St. Louis and told him I wasn't coming back to Georgetown."

"Boyfriend?" Dean had to ask the question.

"Best friend," she answered, but Charlie flinched. "I took a sabbatical from my doctorate program when my mother went into hospice care. I always planned on going back after she died but the Council had other plans for me." She slipped one arm through the crook of his right elbow. "That dream was all I had for a long time."

"When I was a kid, I wanted to be a fireman." He waited for her laugh – even Cassie had thought that was funny.

Charlie twisted to look up at him. "I think you would have been a good fireman." She was smiling, but her eyes were shiny – that demon stole more than just dreams when it killed their parents.

"I'm pretty good at mouth to mouth," Dean murmured, bringing his lips down on hers. She looked surprised but then she opened her mouth to his, and he brushed one hand across the length of her jaw; down to the base of her neck, right where it met her shoulder. Charlie kissed him until the ache in his throat faded, and his breath exhaled with a quick catch.

She moved to straddle him across his thighs, planting small kisses on his neck as she balanced herself. Her lips left little burns that flickered on his pulse, her cool fingers brushed against the succubus scars on his chest, and her body bent backwards like a bow when his nails lightly grazed down her back. Rain splattered against the rooftop, a staccato counterpoint to the heartbeat fluttering against his hands when he reached underneath her tank top. A gasp and a twist when she realized what he was doing.

"Dean – " Fear so thick it lay between them like a blanket.

"You listen to me, Charlie." Dean grabbed one of her hands, brought it down to his left hip – where a hellhound had locked its jaws and shook Dean around like he was the ball, and it was playing fetch. The scars were jagged and angry, raised white against his hip. "I got this saving a family up in Oregon about four years ago from a pack of demonic dogs. It's not the first scar I ever got, and it won't be the last. We fight things that hurt, that can kill. To save people." He put her hand on her abdomen. "The way I see it, you got your scars the same way. Saving your dad."

She made a broken sound in her throat, looking down at their hands resting on her stomach, and suddenly Charlie was ripping off her shirt – red hair falling around her shoulders, eyes stormy with a challenge. There was no way in hell Charlie was ever going to be made to feel ugly again because some nasty fucker scarred her. Dean's only response was to curl his fingers into the waistband of her boxer shorts, and her eyes softened when he started tugging them past her hips. She moved so he could slip them off. Red hair glancing across his abdomen as she leaned down to kiss him, and she slid off his own boxers while his fingers followed a pale shiny scar between her legs.

Charlie gasped, skin flushing as he glided his fingers against her. A low moan escaped her throat, and she moved his arm away; crawling up and straddling him. She was biting her lip, and Dean didn't realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled, deep and warm and wet within her. Needing to touch all of her, with fingers whispering against the curves of her hips. His mouth murmuring promises to breasts, round and full, while he touched freckles on her arms and the swell of her abdomen pressed against him.

He groaned when Charlie started moving her hips. Dean watched the slow pulling apart and pushing in as their bodies met, his hands braced on her arms. She whimpered, their bodies straining. He listened as Charlie breathed his name, over and over; dancing against him like a dare. And there was a question in the way she looked at him, her eyes luminous as they moved together. His answer was a low growl, the counterpoint to her short, sharp cry.

She had left the window open, and Dean heard the curtains rustle as a gust of rain-swept air filled the room, cool against their sweat-covered bodies – nothing but goose bumps and the small sheen of sweat between them. Their breath kept time with the raindrops on the roof and Charlie's arms, flung around his neck, tightened while his hands traced the muscles on her back. Small aftershocks still rippled through her, another sharp breath when he felt that hot flush in his own belly. When he felt her.

Dean dared kissing her shoulder, swallowed as he found his voice. "Only fair to warn you I'm not leaving tonight," he whispered into her hair, feeling her shiver as his breath touched her skin. A deep quiver as he stirred within her. Dean wouldn't have told her more but it didn't matter anyway; Charlie was already kissing him like she was drowning, and he was all the air she needed. And that suited him just fine.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ellie was helping Missouri make French toast when Dean stumbled into the kitchen, Charlie following him into the room; the redhead had thrown on her red-striped pajamas before leaving the attic, but Dean was just wearing his boxer shorts. Sammy smiled at them as he placed a platter of sizzling sausage on the table, his blue-green eyes stopping on Charlie's face. She returned his smile like dinner the night before had never happened.

"I'm sorry I didn't get up in time to help make breakfast," Charlie said, sliding into a chair right next to the sausage platter. She stretched her arms as she sat down, yawning a little.

Sam snorted. "I bet Dean was up."

Dean was getting ready to smack Sam across the back of his shaggy head – even if it was true, and Charlie was definitely awake when Sam knocked on the door and said breakfast was almost ready – but Missouri's voice rang through the kitchen. "Samuel Davis Winchester! There's a child standing right next to you!"

"Sorry," Sam mumbled.

Dean sat down across from Charlie, shooting at smirk at Sam. Serves you right, little brother. Missouri handed the redhead a platter of French toast as Ellie crawled into the chair right next to Charlie. "Dean and I can do dishes," Charlie said, smiling at Missouri.

"What?" Dean yelped. It was Sam's turn to smirk at him. "Oh, man…"

The psychic chuckled. "I'll hold you to that, girl." Missouri looked at Dean suddenly with a serious expression on her face. "Have you all figured out what you're going to do next?"

"Sammy and I decided last night that it's Charlie's choice whether or not she stays," Dean returned, spearing a piece of sausage off of the platter. "And that we're going to check out this safe house before we decide if Ellie should stay there."

"And I'm not leaving," Charlie added. All of the tension in Sam's shoulders released when she said it.

"I promised myself I'd abide by your decision." Missouri's eyesclouded over. "But are you sure about this, Charlotte? Those boys get into some pretty rough spots." She glanced at the little girl pouring syrup all over her French toast. "And Ellie will miss all three of you. Might be easier on her if someone's there."

"I'll be okay," Ellie smiled. "Charlie has to go with them and Uncle Aaron says he'll visit me every day." Dean suspected the little girl got most of her information from Uncle Aaron. Unless she's getting visions… And that thought made him a little sick to his stomach, so he took a sip of his orange juice to calm himself down.

"It'd be simpler if Charlotte stayed with her." But Missouri looked uncertain.

"I belong with Dean," Charlie said. Sam just stared at her, but Dean almost dropped his glass of orange juice. She returned the psychic's look. "I made a promise. Ellie knows we won't let her be lonely." Ellie nodded vehemently, and Charlie continued, "I'm going to make sure that she has a way to keep in touch with us every day. Do they have a computer at this safe house?"

Missouri chuckled. "Of a sort."

"Then we'll just buy her one of her own," Charlie returned with a small frown. "We need to go to an electronics store anyway for supplies."

"Supplies?" Sam was grinning. Geek Boy loved his gadgets. "That sounds to me like you're dangerously close to coming up with a plan."

"She's executing the plan." Dean snorted. "Just be thankful she's not buying a Vespa, dude."

"The world is doomed if we let her ride around on a scooter," his little brother intoned.

"The way I see it, Sammy, it's our responsibility to keep Charlie off the road." Dean grinned. "But you're going to have to sacrifice your iPod for awhile."

"It's for the safety of America's highways." Sam sighed deeply, shaking his head.

"Hey!" Charlie snapped, piling some French toast on her plate. "I'm sitting right here." Charlie was staring at them archly over her glasses. Ellie giggled, both hands over her mouth, and even Missouri was laughing.

"It's really too bad we never made her a costume," Sam continued, as though Charlie hadn't said a thing, "Because she'd look really cute. Just picture it, Dean. A book bag slung over her shoulder, chasing down a demon on her scooter with her cape flying behind her." He snorted.

"When Charlie kicks your ass, I'm just going to sit back and laugh." But he couldn't keep from laughing, because he could see it – down to the pissed-off look on her face as she barreled a demon over and whacked it on the head with her book bag.

"You know," Charlie said, and Dean knew she was trying not to laugh herself, "I'm not above planning a fiendishly clever revenge for both of you."

"Don't worry, Charlie. Dean owes me a quarter and I'm going to make him pay," Ellie said, breaking into a pause in their laughter. The little girl grinned. "You didn't give me a Ding Dong this morning." She turned to Charlie, stealing a piece of sausage off of Charlie's plate. "Did he give you a Ding Dong this morning?"

Sam snorted again, but wisely said nothing. Missouri Mosely was holding a wooden serving spoon in one hand.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Winchesters did not do malls.

That was one of the unwritten rules of the road. The only exception was a zombie infestation, or when something nasty in Denver was wreaking havoc through a shopping center. Jess used to like going shopping, though, and Sam loved Jess; he'd spent his fair share of time sitting in a food court waiting for her to meet him – he'd always slip off to the electronics store after an hour of watching her try on clothes, and they'd meet up for lunch in front of Tokyo Joe's.

Going to the mall was Charlotte's idea – and her argument was hard to overrule. Ellie needed clothes and they needed to get supplies; a mall would have everything under one roof and get them back to Missouri's in time to take Ellie out for dinner. Dean wouldn't argue against anything if it was for Ellie, even if it meant braving the food court for lunch.

And Dean was in his own personal hell, hunkered back against the wall and keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings – like that old couple three tables over was going to turn into byahkees or something. Sam guessed that lunch – pizza and nachos, and there would have been beer if Dean could have found it – was a reminder that Dean was still a Winchester; even if some cute redhead had sweet-talked him into the normal world for three hours.

Ellie pointed out Charlotte as she walked slowly across the food court, a large bag from CompUSA in each hand. The little girl jumped to her feet, waving her arms to get Charlotte's attention. Charlotte smiled when she saw them, and picked her way past scattered bags from Toys R Us and three different department stores.

"Did you buy the whole freaking store?" Dean asked, taking the first bag from Charlotte and setting it next to him. Sam watched as Dean moved over on his bench to make room for the redhead, and Shemhezai chortled inside. It was just how he would move to make room for Jess.

"We needed a third laptop, and I bought one for Ellie, too." Charlotte set the second bag next to the first, and slid next to Dean. "Plus phones, and all the gear I'm going to need for research. I even found a portable printer on sale!" She smiled when she saw the nachos. Suddenly, she was grinning and reaching in for a chip slathered in greasy cheese.

Dean snorted. "Why do we need the printer?"

"Why do you need a Nerf rocket launcher?" Sam retorted. Dean shot him scowl while Charlotte giggled – and it still shocked the hell out of Sam every time she did it. "And you bought Ellie every Barbie outfit known to man," Sam added.

"Gillian and Desiree are sharing Barbie's clothes," Ellie said. "Dean was just making sure they had enough to go around. It's hard when there isn't." Sam's throat caught at the look in her eyes. That girl was never going to want for anything again, if he had any say in it.

"And they all needed a car to tool around in while they hit the town," Dean added, his voice rough as he scratched his left ear, his hazel eyes softer than just about anything when Ellie smiled up at him. Suddenly, Dean turned to Charlie and grinned. "You know, I've been wondering about something. How come there isn't a Glock Barbie or a Beretta Skipper or something? One of those chicks should know how to fire a gun," Dean added, poking Charlotte on the arm.

"If this whole demon-hunting thing goes bust, Dean, you can always fall back on a career in the fashion doll industry." Sam sipped on his root beer.

"I think there's a market for Combat Ready Barbie and her Shotgun-Wielding Friends," Charlotte said, her voice soft and serious. "Mostly boys around the mental age of twelve," she added, poking Dean on the arm. "Right, Ellie?" Ellie winked and poked Dean on his other arm before scampering off to gather with other kids around the merry-go-round in the middle of the food court.

"Using Ellie like that isn't fair." Dean's voice was undercut by a low rumble, and his mouth was twitching. His brother still looked edgy as hell, but Dean had ways of dealing with that. Sam wasn't surprised when his older brother pulled Charlotte towards him. "You play by the rules, Charlie, or I won't give you your present."

"You bought me my very own Macho Machete Ken?" the redhead asked. The way Dean looked at her made Sam want to leave, especially when Dean placed his hands on her shoulders. "Is it the one with the actual knife, or the doll with the chopping action hand?" she added.

"Your present isn't costing me a thing." Dean's voice was low, and his hands were in Charlotte's hair – pulling her mouth towards his for a kiss that didn't belong in the Market Place Food Court. Dean Winchester had rallied against suburbia, and even parents were staring at him. "And I know you'll be screaming for it later," he added when they paused for breath. Sam actually choked on his root beer.

Charlotte put both hands on Dean's chest and pushed him away slowly. "Does this present come with an action hand?" Her voice was just as low as Dean's, but she was blushing a little.

"Nope," Dean replied, shaking his head. "Big ritual club." But he couldn't get that out without laughing, and Charlotte was chuckling into Dean's shoulder. "I found some DVDs I thought we could all watch since you're getting that fancy new computer," Dean added. "I got you Firebug, and something called Babylon 5 that looked pretty kick-ass." Dean coughed. "And that Casablanca movie. But I've got to tell you, Charlie, it sure as hell looks like a fucking chick flick," his older brother added accusingly.

"It's a chick flick with Nazis," Charlotte explained.

"Well, as long as there are Nazis." Dean rolled his eyes. He suddenly focused his attention on Ellie. She was by herself near the merry-go-round. Lots of kids were getting on it, handing tickets to the person at the gate, but she was standing behind them with her hands behind her back. "Oh, hell no," Dean proclaimed. "You tell Dad I did this, Sammy, and I'm going to kick your ass into next year." He stood up quickly and began sauntering in Ellie's direction, her face lighting up when she saw him. "You two better not eat all of the nachos before Ellie and I get back!" Dean yelled across the food court.

Sam chuckled, and Charlotte had a small smile on her face when Dean took Ellie by the hand and walked over to the little ticket booth; Dean looked more comfortable when he was breaking into a morgue. "Are you still worried that you and Dean aren't going to be okay?" Charlotte asked softly.

"No." Sam sighed, and Charlotte reached across the table to put her hand on his. "I'm worried about what's next." He twisted on the bench. "We almost lost everything back in Georgia. What happens when we reach the point where we've got nothing left to lose?" He shook his head. "Is this what you expected your life to be? When you were a little kid, did you want to grow up to be the woman sitting in the backseat of my brother's car, translating a prophecy on a computer? I might not have known what I wanted to be when I was kid, but two years ago? I could have told you. I was going to be married to a beautiful girl, working in a law firm." A beautiful girl named Jess.

God help him. It still fucking hurt.

And Shemhezai was laughing, hard and cold against Sam's lungs.

"I was going to be Mrs. Miles Kincaid," Charlotte said. "He's the reason I wanted to be in Washington D.C. so badly, even though part of me knew it was over a long time ago." Her mouth crooked up at him. "I'm pretty inept when it comes to reading people without my Gift, and the only reason he didn't break up with me eight months ago when I left was because my mother was dying." She had the same look on her face back in St. Louis after she made a second call on his cell.

"Still hurts," Sam returned, squeezing her hand. "Knowing you've lost something and can never get it back."

"It does. Here's where my daddy would say that you get something better in its place," she said, "And I might have believed him before he died. No one's going to replace her, Sam. But my daddy also used to say we're never alone even when we think we are." Charlotte raised her free hand when Dean and Ellie came into view; Ellie was waving madly at them from the merry-go-round, and Dean was trying not to look like he wanted to fling himself off the machine. "I didn't believe that, either, until I met you Winchesters. The greatest gifts in life are people, Charlie," she added, and her voice took on her father's accent. "The trick is figuring that out before it's too late."

Sam knew where this was going, and the thought made his heart stumble. "We're your gifts?" Shemhezai tittered madly, singing something about Charlotte being crazy all her life, and Sam's chest ached with the lie. "You honestly believe that?" Sam demanded.

"Your brother woke me up this morning and started showing me every single one of his scars. I've never had anyone touch me the way he does – like I'm beautiful, like he's proud of my scars. Proud of me." Her cheeks flushed; when she looked at Sam directly, there were tears in her eyes and he would have told her something if he could have spoken past the lump in his throat – but Sam didn't even feel a whisper of the thing riding through his rib cage. "And you? You're sitting here trying to make me feel better about the jerk who was engaged to someone else before he dumped me – thinking you can hide the fact that the thing inside of you uses your pain to try and break you," she added.

Sam knew he was staring at her like an idiot. "You're pretty emo, Charlotte Webb," he managed. But the tightness in his chest eased, and Sam grinned at her. Shemhezai was so quiet, the thing could have been dead inside.

"I'm a walking chick flick." She smiled back at him. "But that still doesn't change the fact that you're not fighting that thing alone." Charlotte snorted suddenly, and shook her head. "Big ritual club?" she added incredulously. "Is he always like that?"

"When he's happy," Sam replied lightly.

"Oh." And she was blushing again, turning her face away from his.

Sam smiled. Feeling Charlotte's hand on top of his – watching his older brother laugh while he balanced a little girl on a merry-go-round-horse, forgetting that people were watching him – Sam remembered something from that stupid book that Aaron was making him read. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof. Parts of that book were crap – selfish motivations and self-help ego-stroking – but some parts were true despite where it came from; which was probably Aaron's point in the first place.

He really hadn't been alone – he was just too stubborn, too afraid of Shemhezai, to realize it. Dean had always been there for him – even after Sam left for Stanford, especially when Jess died – and there was no way in hell that Sam was leaving his family again.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean woke up when a soft kiss was planted on his shoulder blade. The sun was just beginning to rise but it was raining outside; he could hear the drops run down the window, the patter of rain on the roof. Thank God Charlie had shut it before they actually fell asleep. He turned around to see Charlie blinking at him sleepily. She wound a hand lazily through his hair. "Morning," she said.

He was going to pull her in his arms and go back to sleep but suddenly her hands were on his hips and Charlie was kissing him; she drew her tongue lightly across his lips, opening her mouth to him. She actually trembled, tightening her grip on his hips, when he started kissing her – making tiny moans when his lips trailed from her mouth to the sensitive hollows of her neck and hands scratched slowly down her back. "Morning," Dean answered, smiling against her clavicle.

It was too goddamn early. Hell, it wasn't even 7:00 AM – Dad had said to be at that Roadhouse place before the evening crowd; leaving by 10:00 was more than enough time to get there, even if Sam was driving. They could sleep for at least two more hours; even longer if Charlie was okay with eating Missouri's cold waffles in the car – no way she'd not wash her hair. The girl had been so anal about leaving on time, they had already packed most of their stuff in the Impala after dinner. "Any reason you woke me up at the butt crack of dawn?" Dean asked.

"I couldn't sleep. I'm worried about today."

Dean chuckled. "So that means I've got to suffer with you?" She wrapped her arms around him when he began nuzzling at her neck.

"No. And I didn't mean to wake you up. I just wanted to touch you," Charlie said. It was still too dark to see her blushing, but Dean knew she was. He slipped his hands down to her breasts, brushing his palms against them. "Hey," she gasped, arching into his hands with a sigh.

"Well now that I'm up, might as well see how many times I can make you come before the alarm goes off." Dean kissed her neck, right where she liked it. "Make this whole thing worth my while."

"You are such a prick!" Charlie laughed softly, but she still looked worried. She took a deep breath, kissed him hard, and then one hand shot out to touch him underneath his arm.

She was tickling him, giggling a little – which was better than laying next to him, one long bundle of anxiety. But he hoped like hell she hadn't heard him giggling back at her. Dean grabbed Charlie's hand by the wrist. Undeterred, she wiggled against him and attacked with her other hand. She was more vicious than a chupacabra when she was tickling someone. Right. Dean rolled Charlie onto her back, pinning her down as he straddled her – arms held above her head at the wrists. Red hair spread around her, and he knew she wasn't leaving the bed until she was good and laid.

Charlie's eyes widened when she felt him. "You like it when a girl plays a little rough," she said, emphasizing the comment with a dangerous lift of her hips.

"If you can't play with the big dogs, stay on the porch."

Charlie bent to meet his mouth as he traced circles on her right breast. "Please don't tell me that's a nickname for your testicles, Dean." Fuck me. Her voice was breathy when she added, "I won't know where to start. Mr. Happy and the Big Dogs is wrong on so many levels."

"What's so wrong about it," Dean retorted. Sounded pretty damn good to him, actually – almost wished he had thought it up himself. Big Dogs. He grinned. Dean could feel her heart marking time against him as he let go of her wrists, his hands entangled in her hair. "You jealous or something, Charlie?"

"Of the college cover band you're stashing in your pants?" Charlie asked, sarcasm undercut by an intake of breath when Dean's lips brushed her left nipple. "You've got me," she added with another lift of her pelvis. They both shuddered from the friction. "I lie awake at night wishing I had come up with the nickname Bananarama for my - "

Dean's mouth came down hard on hers, her heart still stumbling against his chest. He didn't know if it was because of him or that stupid Roadhouse. She brought her hands up to touch his hair, and then tightened her arms around his neck. Charlie pulled back, gasping, and he grabbed her, pushed down against her to kiss her harder, his left hand trailing down her side as a low moan escaped from her throat.

There was a click on the nightstand and the alarm went off, filling the room with the end of Sweet Home Alabama. Dean pulled away from Charlie's mouth, glanced at the clock. "You set the alarm for 7:00 AM?"

"I didn't want to mess things up by being late, Dean," Charlie answered, and her face crumpled. The fear right underneath the surface rising the moment she remembered it. "Those people have enough reason to hate me."

"You knew this wasn't going to be easy, Charlie. You told me yourself." Dean's voice was low, and he tried to sound calm – but his stomach was a cold pit. What the hell, Winchester…

"But – " Charlie began.

"But nothing. Only reason we'll be late is if something bad happens and that won't be your fault." He started pushing her knees apart with his own, feeling the tension in her thighs. "And so what if these people hate you? You're not staying with them. Ellie loves you and I think Geek Boy does, too." Dean whispered it low in his throat. "Fuck those assholes." She moaned softly when he entered her, grazing her neck with his teeth as she stretched into him. "You're staying with us," he added, thrusting as she hooked her right leg around his.

Dean didn't say anything else because he'd already said too much, just crashed into her while she pulled up to kiss him roughly; nails sliding down his back. He groaned into her mouth, and the rain outside was falling harder; like heartbeats on the roof. It was easy after that, letting the music wash through them, a song they both knew dragging them under and saying more than he ever should; voices and skin, dancing in each other, until they were the only ones left.

Catch a ride to the end of the highway
and we'll meet by the big red tree,
There's a place up ahead and I'm goin'
come along, come along with me.

A/N:

That little smartass duck is none other than the fantastic Plucky Duck from Tiny Toons Adventures. I'm not biased or anything. And, yes, Virginia, that was a Spaceballs reference. Firebug is, indeed, Firefly. Dean suffers through entirely too many quotes between Charlie and Sam. And everyone should own all of Babylon 5. Everyone!!!!! (I'm an equal-opportunity fangirl. Besides, Marcus was hot.)

The song Charlie sings in the bathroom is "Know Your Chicken" by Cibo Matto.

Perhaps I can't entirely blame Percocet for Samuel Davis Winchester. The evil side of me wishes this were actually canon, so Dean could really piss Sam off by singing "The Candy Man."

A byahkee is a monster from Lovecraft's Cthulhu mythos. I just needed a name for a monster, and that was suitably exotic. I'm not going to bring Cthulhu into my Enochian Armageddon. (Although, now that I think on it…)

The title of this chapter is a song by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

At this point, you definitely know the drill: Criticism is always welcome, and comments make my inner fangirl dizzy. (Well, dizzier. I am, by nature, very dizzy in my head.)