- AN:

I suppose I'll have to write this chapter in honor of luvlyash, since she's the one who woke me up a few days ago with the kind request to actually update. : )

I've been toying with ideas for this story since my last update. I was horribly confused - mainly because I decided that I actually liked the premise of Dean only having one year to live and was fighting the urge to re write the story…again. I talked myself out of it, deciding to apply some things from season 2 with an eventual lead in to season 3. I'm going to try and update this more. I haven't had much time what with school and everything, but I'm hoping to get back on the ball. We'll see how well I can do with making the rest of this flow the right way.

Also, aside from luvlyash, I'd also like to thank:

Fashiongurl3188, legolover, Simple Tirade d'Aujourd'Hui, rrainyddaze, roxy1389, PadfootCc, Ghostwriter, purpleribbions, cl06, TheRavynFire, magic skittles, neko-in-tears, ChanceTakerHeartBreaker x3, -jaycat-allison, midnight893, Scary-Girly, Maze2010.

Everybody's kind words have made happiness swirl all up in me. So seriously, thank you, thank you thank you.

With that all in writing, I'm going to begin my weaving of words. Enjoy!

Rory Gilmore didn't have much experience when it came to living with men. Yeah, she'd nearly a year and a half shacking up with her then boyfriend, Logan Huntzberger, but more then half of that time, she'd spent alone. But in the time she had actually lived with Logan, it'd been nothing like living with Sam and Dean. The hotel room they found themselves in was nothing short of a mess. The bed was covered in newspaper clippings, John Winchester's hunting journal somewhere in the middle of it, laying where Rory had tossed it in a fit of frustration. In the corner was a large black duffle bag that held anything important to the three of them. Weapons, salt, books versed in Latin that were supposed to protect them from the wicked. A gun lay on the bed side table, safety off, fully loaded in case she needed it and a line of salt surrounded the bed where she sat. She almost felt sorry for the maid that had to clean it up once they left. Salt was definitely not an easy element to get rid of.

Not that she was unhappy with this life. For the most part, living with Sam and Dean actually okay. Sam was intelligent and easy to talk to. She didn't have to worry about him making teasing jabs at her odd habits. Unlike Dean who took every opportunity to say something that he knew would get a rise out of her. Despite that, though, he was fiercely protective over her and worked extremely hard on making sure she was safe. Even when he wasn't there to protect her.

She'd even found a way to fit herself into the job. She wasn't exactly macho woman and her skills in hand to hand combat were less then adequate. Her aim was off and her nerve was lacking, but she was good at research. At the end of the day, the crazy that filled her life was relaxed away by recanting the tale and the myth in the empty pages of John's journal. It was her way of thanking the boys for putting up with her. This way, she wasn't useless, and they had a detailed report of everything they encountered.

The only problem was that most of the things they encountered weren't exactly something you could google. Not without running into thousands of pages filled with inaccurate mythology, anyway.

They'd arrived in Oatman, California nearly three days ago and so far the claims she'd glanced in the newspaper had given no obvious clues. Sam was insistent that there was something going on and Dean wasn't arguing. There had been a string of disappearances dating back almost six months with little to no explanation. Little to no explanation usually meant something paranormal and paranormal meant the Sam and Dean Winchester, along with their research girl, were hot on it's tale. Sam had suggested faeries. She'd laughed when he first said it. After all, the first though one has when the word 'Faerie' is mentioned, they usually thing something along the lines of Tinkerbell or Crysta from Ferngully. All she'd found so far was the Irish legend of Faeries. The one that detailed their existence as something a little less pretty then the things that fly around in cartoons, a little more troll like and dangerous.

Unfortunately they weren't in Ireland and more unfortunately, John Winchester had written absolutely nothing on the topic. If there were faeries tormenting the town, then they were all in trouble. The only clue she'd found was that building a house in the path of where the faeries dwell was bad luck. Fortunately, though, there had been a surge in house building in the past couple of months and it was good that they had something to go on. Even if she had yet to find any way to defeat the damn things.

Despite her current irritation, she had to admit the past few weeks had been good. They'd blown through two small towns since the rendezvous at the Road house. They still lacked any good information concerning avataras and were clueless as to what Rory had to do with it. They were even more confused as to how the yellow eyed demon, a demon who had seemed to work for himself, was involved in whatever elaborate plot it was involved in. Sam feared that the demon was being controlled, which wasn't good.

She was woken out of her thoughts at the sound of their hotel room door slamming shut. In walked her two favorite guys covered in mud, looking quite unhappy. Neither of them said one word as they headed further into the room. Sam headed towards the bathroom, quick on his long legs while Dean pulled his muddy jacket off, followed quickly by the plain white tee shirt he wore beneath.

"Eventful night?" She asked. He stared at her menacingly, which caused Rory to grin. Dean grunted, looking in the mirror, trying to retrieve any bits of mud from his locks. He didn't say anything for a few minutes, obviously unhappy with his current state of mess.

"You might want to write this down." He said after a moment. She picked up a pen, poising it over the paper she'd been writing on. "Faeries are hard to kill, are tricky, and are the biggest bastards of the supernatural world." He paused for a moment, then, "the best way to get rid of them is to exercise their land. Be warned, though, it gets messy." He didn't say anything for a moment, watching Rory write down what was probably word for word what had come out of his mouth. At least the inheritor of the journal would get some laughs now that Rory was in charge of records. "Apparently, they like to build their house in the mud." He groaned.

"So is it done, then?" She asked after a few minutes of giggling at Dean's new, muddy look.

"Is what done?" He asked.

"Is the case solved?" She asked.

"We're going to wait a few days to be sure," Sam spoke, coming out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, hair wet, mud no longer an issue for him. Dean took this as his cue to take his shower and entered the bathroom, slamming the door shut. "Turns out faeries are like a mix between corporeal beings and spirits." Sam explained, giving Rory a moment to write that down before continuing, "A bit more fierce then elementals. No one knows where they originate, only that they aren't afraid of taking revenge if their area is disturbed. Chances are, though, that they didn't do the kidnapping and killing themselves, but got someone else to do it." Sam looked through his suitcase while talking, looking for a fresh pair of clothes with one hand, holding his towel up with the other. "I'm pretty positive, though, that they are meat eating creatures, if all the bones are a suggestion. They probably get their energy from human life."

"I sure do love these creatures of the night." She smiled, closing the journal. She opened the lap top that was beside her and clicked on a folder, bring up a document. "Ash called when you were gone." She spoke. Sam looked up. "He still can't find any actual evidence of who the avataras are, but he did find some writings on an event that happened in the twenties." She spun the computer around before spinning herself around so that Sam could get dressed with some kind of privacy. "He thinks that the kids like you were maybe created in order to create an even playing field for each side. Warriors for good and evil." She continued.

"It'd make sense, war fare between good and evil has gotten a lot more complicated in the past sixty years." Rory wanted to mutter something along the lines of 'tell me about it' but kept her mouth shut. Sam sounded as if he was in his serious mode and she didn't want to break him out of it. "Looks like he's managed to pinpoint another kid like me, though."

"So we're going to be heading out soon?" She asked. He nodded, smiling before closing the lap top.

"Looks like it."

----

Lorelai Gilmore sighed, stroking the furry head of Paul Anka, who sighed in return. The house had been quiet since Rory left. Though her relationship with Luke had progressed since Rory's farewell party, the days were long while Luke was at the diner. Work at the Dragonfly was tedious as well. Part of her wanted to do nothing more then stay at home, wait by the phone, hoping Rory would call. It'd been nearly two months since Rory had disappeared from the political Rally in Denver and she'd heard nothing. And despite her hoping that Rory would just randomly call and say 'hey', she knew her daughter wouldn't have gone two months without communication. It just wasn't her and it certainly wasn't them.

Like any mother and daughter, they fought. Not much, of course. She and Rory were probably the oddest mother and daughter in the world, but she was certain they'd ended on good terms. Lorelai wouldn't have it any other way, what with sending her daughter off on a big bus to follow presidential hopeful, Barak Obama for the next six months. Things had been good, too, at first. Rory had called a few days into the trip with laughter, excitedly relaying how much fun she was having. She'd even met Obama himself, and promised her mother that he was a very impressive man. Smart, funny, and all that other good stuff. Calls of course, lagged once Rory had become more involved. A month into the trip, though she'd gotten the call she most dreaded.

Rory Gilmore was missing. There'd been a random fire at one of the events and she hadn't' been seen since, though two witness claimed that she'd been thrown into the back of an black, classic car. No one had gotten the license plates and no one had seen the kidnappers.

Since then there'd been no contact at all. No Rory and no ransom calls. It'd been silent.

Silence was broken then by a saddened whine from Paul Anka. "Don't worry, Paul Anka." Lorelai soothed, "Rory will be home soon."

----

A day later, a vision of Sam's sent them packing from Oatman, California to Guthrie, Oklahoma. Two days earlier then they'd originally planned. They'd been relaxing in the hotel doing a bit of both relaxing and researching when Sam had barged out of the bathroom. His hand was pressed firmly against his head and he was hunched over in pain. Rory had jumped up immediately, terrified for her new friend when Dean had stepped in, like he always did. "Sam, what's wrong?" He asked. Sam removed his hand and looked at Dean with a pair of wide eyes. Rory immediately knew that something was terribly wrong.

----

Dean's face was oddly calm as they sped down yet another back road. "I don't know man…" He sighed, "Why don't we just chill out and think about this?" Dean wasn't too happy to be jumping on the band wagon with something he wasn't sure was a lead.

Sam reached over and turned off the radio before turning to his brother. "What's thee to think about?" He asked.

"What's going on guys?" Rory cut in.

They both ignored her. "I don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea. I mean, we just-"

"Oh god, please, not the Roadhouse again." Rory whined, though neither brother were listening.

"Dean. It's another premonition. I know it." Sam sounded impassioned as he told his side. "This is going to happen, and Ash can tell us where." There wasn't much Ash could do, Rory knew that. Dean had explained Sam's ability as simply as he could. Sam had visions and when they did, they tried to prevent it. A lot of times there were bigger hints. Something that gave a clue as to where they were headed, a clue that hadn't been available this time.

"Yeah, man, but…" Dean trailed off and Sam cut in quickly after.

"Plus, it could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do." It was a mega point to his persuasion. Sam had admitted that he'd never really had a vision specifically about Rory. Since their father's death, they'd been trying their hardest to hunt down the demon. Finding patterns and possibly other children just like Sam. They'd both known where the demon was going to attack, but Rory had been a surprise. Sam had seen her, just barely in the flames. Normally, he would just jump in, rescue her and leave, but the demon had attempted to interfere and Sam had carried her back to the Impala on a whim. The demon had tried once more to capture her…or kill her…but Dean had easily thrown him off and since then it'd been quiet. Well, mostly.

Rory tuned them out as they argued. She tuned in only to see Dean pat his brother's knee and say "you've always been a freak."

----

Tristan DuGray shot up in his bed with a gasp, his body covered in a thin layer of sweat, his breath labored, his heart pounding against his chest like it was trying It'd been a solid week that the dream had plagued him. It wasn't a nightmare, but it wasn't a dream either. It always began so innocently. He would walk into an old fashioned diner and ask the waitress politely for a slice of pie. She would grin and make small talk while fetching him a decent sized slice of warm cherry pie. The diner was unusually empty, but the soft sounds of the music playing throughout the diner was oddly comforting. A small bell interrupts his conversation and he looks towards the door.

The face is familiar and he greets the man warmly. Like an old friend. The friend orders a cup of coffee to start with and the two sit quietly together, the music filling them both with something indescribable. He remembers looking up into a mirror that is screwed into the wall near the ceiling behind the counter. He notices two men - one of those men his father - sitting across from each other, enjoying a meal served to them on silver platters. The waitress placing the pie in front of him draws his attention back to the front and she grins saying 'Every prophet in his house' as the glass in all the windows shattered around them.

He always woke up after that. His body would shake for hours at the implications of the reverie. He'd spent weeks on the road, attempting to define the meaning of the changing world around him. The series of events that led to his eventual fleeing of his family's home still haunted him and forced him to stay hidden. The curse his father had bore him was more trouble then it was worth. He sighed, wiping his face with both hands before reaching to the bedside table and turning on the television.

"In recent news, Police Chief Amond Dexter has released the name of the possible perpetrator suspected in the slaying of Mitchum Huntzberger. Tristan DuGray, also suspected in the death of his father, Elias DuGray, has been on the run for over a month. Any motive behind the crimes is still questionable. Please remember that Mr. DuGray should be considered extremely dangerous. If you spot this man" He saw an image of himself on the screen, "please contact your local law enforcement immediately"

- - - -

Rory Gilmore sighed, running the hotel bath towel over her wet hair, trying to dry it as much as possible before she settled down for the night. The hotel beds were extremely uncomfortable, there was no need aiding it by laying down with her wet hair. She studied herself in the mirror quickly. Her eyes were a bit dull, dark circles surrounding them. Her skin was still pale, but lifeless, a few freckles dotting across her nose and onto her cheeks.

She was glad that Sam and Dean's case was over. She always felt unsure of herself when Sam and Dean fell heavily into a case. Part of her was worried sick that they might find trouble (or more so then normal) and the rest of her felt left out. They seemed to have a language of their own, and Rory did the best she could to help out. She spent hours searching the internet for information and at time even sat in the back seat while they did their thing. The last part of her knew, though, that this was their lives. This is what they did, and she felt at times, like a burden.

Sighing again, she stripped herself of the towel she had wrapped around her waist and pulled out a dark tank top and a pair of short soccer shorts. She cleaned up a bit before shuffling into the hotel room where Sam and Dean were already laying in the second bed, watching the news. Sitting on her bed, she continued drying her hair. Looking at the TV, she gasped, dropping to towel.

"What?" Sam asked. Rory stood up, moving closer to the screen.

"I know that guy." She stated, pointing to the picture on the screen. Dean gave her a look.

"You know a suspected murderer?" He laughed, "it'd figure that you would." He was commenting on her ability to draw trouble to her.

"He wasn't a suspected murderer then. I went to high school with him before he got shipped to military school. I haven't seen him since eleventh grade." She whispered.

"They say he killed two men. His father and the newspaper guy." Sam spoke slowly.

"Newspaper guy?" Rory asked.

Sam nodded, "Huntzberger. The man owns like half the papers in the US." Rory shook her head in agreement.

"I know. I've met him." She said, "Tristan DuGray murdered my ex boyfriend's father." She sighed, her head beginning to hurt, "why does that feel like it should be an important piece of information?" She whispered to herself.

Rory Gilmore had no idea just how important the information really was.

IN FINALMENT: So this might be the longest chapter I've written so far. A couple people reviewed and it reminded me that I still have a work of fiction out there. I've been in school and at work so much that I've been just exhausted. I'm hoping to get a new chapter out soon though. We're just about to discover some important information. Seriously. I stole one scene from Carnivale…like exactly.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this. I worked really hard. I wanted to follow Season 2, but there's so much that I'll have to put in that it's probably going to be tough. Yeah, well, if you like it, let me know. By reviewing. I'd very much appreciate it.