A.N.: Here comes Chapter 6! Thanks so, SO much for favoriting, subscribing, reading and reviewing this tale. It means SO much to me. I'm absolutely thrilled that you are enjoying it and I hope that you like the latest chapter. Bless all of you!

Disclaimer: Only Kayla is mine. And the Toscana and Bailey and ….okay a couple of things are mine but not the show. :-P

Chapter 6

Fresh air! Hot desert air, but fresh none the less fills my lungs. I feel like I could swallow the sky it's that refreshing. And while my car pales in comparison to the black gleaming beast next to it as I slide in behind the wheel, thrust my keys into ignition and crank my music on, it's feels like nothing less than Heaven to me.

Belting out Bon Jovi makes me feel instantly better, like I'm a lion roaring out my outrage at the world. Cheesy yes, but it doesn't make it any less true. I wave at people I haven't seen in months, leaving my window down so the air can caress my skin. It is the first time since my parents have died that I feel like me again. I love Bailey like crazy, but I went from heartbroken ex, to grieving daughter, to sole guardian and caretaker with not nearly enough transition between them. It is nice, even if it is just for this moment, to be Kayla again.

The elation doesn't last long and soon my thoughts drift back to Bailey and the crisis at hand…and the fact that we don't have any leads, and we are running out of time. Talk about a mood killer.

I've only been gone about an hour when I start to feel guilty, Sam and Dean are trying to find a way to save my sister, and I am out cruising.

Avoidance thy name is Kayla.

I bring home snow cones in hopes to smooth away all earlier dissension with the peace offering.

When I get in the door Sam is flipping hastily through one of the books as he pounds something onto the keyboard and then scans one of the local papers. Dean looks bored out of his skull as I set the treats down on the table.

"What's that?" He asks, eyeing me warily.

"Sorry I took off." I mumble.

"It's okay; I have years of Sammy being emo to know how to deal with it."

Sam barely looks up at him, but I just catch him rolling his eyes as his face pulls into a 'screw you' expression.

I shake off the annoyance at the word emo and plop the shaved ice in front of him.

"I don't know what you guys like, but I figured black cherry is pretty universal."

Dean stares at it like he just now realizes I have some sort of food with me.

"Do you even like snow cones?" I ask, confused at his hesitance.

Sam pulls his spoon out of the icy substance and pops it into his mouth. "Thanks Kayla."

Dean eats his sullenly, echoing his brother with the thanks but otherwise staying silent. I have been in enough fights with Bailey to know this is what it looks like.

I move behind Sam curious to know what he is so engrossed in. More barf worthy pictures, more unimportant facts. My gaze goes to the newspaper, to the broad smiling face of the New Mexico governor Rich Kippling. I skim the article; he is in the area this week, speaking out against the horror of the wild fires that have been plaguing the state, commenting briefly on cleaning up downtown, touching in particular on the renovation of Hotel Clovis…. Son. Of. A. Bitch.

It may not have been gift wrapped, but it had shown up at my door.

I read the article again, everything fitting with what we know, suddenly so many things that have been foggy in my mind slam into place.

"Sam!" I whirl on him and the poor guy, he jumps.

"What?"

"Are wildfire considered natural disasters?" My brain is working overtime now.

He looks baffled. "Um…yeah." He pauses looking at Dean for help. "I guess."

"Okay, okay, so wildfires are natural disasters, and he has been here for the last week and he had Hotel Clovis supervised, not like anyone would suspect of him of something so terrible, it all makes sense!" I cry.

Eventually these looks like I am completely insane are going to get old.

Sam huffs a brief painful sigh before he pushes himself out of the chair and comes to stand by me.

He looks at the paper I have clutched in my hand.

"Kayla, what did you find?"

"Everything!" I yell, waving the paper frantically in the air. "He's a State official in a position of power! Not like anyone would ever point the finger at him. And here we are living in the seventh circle of hell, but there are absolutely no fires here! How likely is that?" I'm surprised at the rate my brain is putting things together that I don't have cartoon style smoke pouring out of my ears.

"It's him. I'm telling you…that bastard brought this on all of us."

Sam takes the paper from my hand, smoothing it out where I have excitedly balled it up and scans it with focused eyes.

After a minute Dean speaks up from the opposite side of the table. "Sammy?"

He dips his head. "It fits, the governor, the Tascona, the ritual, it all fits."

Yes! My heart sings in triumph in my chest. If this is what it is like to solve a case, sign me up! It's invigorating the sense of victory in my spirit.

"Kayla, where is this guy staying?" Sam asks, shaking me from my mental victory dance.

"Um…the Holiday Inn I think. That's the nicest place in town."

His frown stops me short.

"No, no. It wouldn't work ...it would have to be somewhere bigger."

"Bigger? What are you talking about?"

"The ritual, it would have to be some place out in the open, somewhere no one would hear, it's not exactly um…" he looks at me sideways. "Quiet."

I feel sick as more gruesome images invade my mind.

"Bigger?" I muse, noticing that Dean is standing next to Sam, one arm at the ready in case his brother should falter.

"Bigger like a…" I pause as images of places that could match Sam's' description filter in my mind.

"Bigger like a park?" I ask, praying to receive confirmation.

"Yeah, a park would work, but it would have to be out of the way."

Out of the way…out of the way, out of the way…on the way out of town!

"Sam!" I shout and he and Dean both jump.

"You're a genius!" I grip his face in both hands before I lean up on my tip toes (because my God this boy is tall) and plant a kiss on his confounded face. Dean looks slightly upset and like he has a few choice words for me before I lean in and do the same to him.

"That's it!" I bellow, pulling away from both of them and swiping the paper from Sam's' hands.

Everything fits; everything makes sense, Thank God.

Dean looks at Sam who looks at Dean, and then they both look back to me.

"Um…Sam. What the hell was that?" he mutters.

"How should I know?" He whispers back.

I'm muttering to myself, putting together a plan, clues, strategy. A skill I wasn't even aware I had when Dean says "Christo."

I don't even look up as I reply. "Crisco's on the top shelf. Help yourself."

"That rules that out then." Is his troubled reply.

It's some time later after I have gutted the paper, and filled two small notebooks with Intel when Dean dares to speak up again. I haven't really been listening to him the last forty five minutes, my mind too busy working frantically on a fool proof plan to save Bailey. I'm not really paying attention to him now. My pitter pattering heart and hard core crush takes back seat to a possibly suffering, definitely missing little sister.

"Kayla!" He exclaims and finally I raise my face to meet his.

"What?"

"This has been real fun and all, watching you do," he gestures to the chaos on the table. "Whatever the hell it is you are doing, but Sam and I," an enthusiastic nod from his brother, ever his backup. "Would really like you to share with the rest of the class now."

"Oh yeah of course," I giggle nervously and tuck a stray hair behind my ears. "My bad."

The smile they give me very plainly says "It's a good thing you have all that cute to balance out the crazy."

I have to agree.

I explain my theory, knowing in my heart it is right. The governor, with it being a voting year and all needs to have some sort of one up on the competition, he just so happened to be in town the week that Hotel Clovis is taped off for renovation and the Tascona, just so happened to have been there.

Everywhere this man has been in the last month has miraculously been untouched by the horrific fires and now he is in Clovis and Bailey is gone. It all fits perfectly.

I'd met the man years earlier at a school pep rally and everything about him screams out 'slimey weasel.' Call it intuition, call it faith, call it madness but I know, I just know that he is the missing puzzle piece.

"Damn," Dean breathes, his eyebrows lifting in amazement. "I'm impressed. A little bit scared, but impressed."

"Me too." Sam states. "Good job Kayla."

I smile at them. "I was just waiting for a sign and there it was," I point to the paper. "In black and white."

Sam grins in return as Dean circles the table, he peers down at my multitude of notes and tries to decipher my chicken scratch hand writing.

He lifts one notepad and squints at it. "It's like it's a different language," he teases and I elbow him before I take back the pad.

"Shut up." I groan but I'm laughing as I say it.

"The guy casing the house makes sense now, they weren't expecting their attack dog to leave survivors," Sam says off to the side.

"Right, they were trying to insure that the plan went off without a hitch. Government douchebags." Dean grumbles.

"Wait, casing? Who was doing what to the house?" It's my turn to be confused again.

"They were watching the house, seeing if anyone was going to come by, waiting to see if you made it home."

"Oh." Because that isn't a terrifying thought.

"So why didn't they finish the job?" Dean again.

"They probably thought they didn't have to, I mean you saw her that first night we got here, other than that lucky punch she landed to your nose, she looked like death warmed over." he pauses and immediately shoots me an apologetic glance. "No offense."

"None taken."

"So they weren't factoring us into the equation, because the poison more than likely would have finished her off that night if we hadn't been there." Dean concludes grimly, his knuckles white as he bunches his fists. "They were just going to send her home to die."

"But the hospital should have caught that; she would still have had a fever when they discharged her."

Dean is tight lipped as he retorts. "What do you want to bet somebody there was in on it?"

I'm back to staring intently at the picture of the governor, smiling and waving, his adoring crowd behind him. A flash of ice cold blue eyes entrap me as my finger travels the length of the page to rest of the strangely familiar face.

"Uh...guys?" They both turn towards me. "That's my nurse."

Dean's jaw sets hard and Sam suddenly looks angry as well.

"Guess we found our mole."

The sun starts to set behind us casting an orangish glow onto the table. Was the whole day gone already? It's been about ten minutes since we made our new startling discovery in the case and both the boys have been buzzing as I recall all my encounters with the nurse.

"I don't know," I begin. "We talked about a couple things, nothing important; mostly she adjusted my morphine drip, fed me a couple of times. She knew that I was going home alone and that I don't have parents, but she was nice to me, understanding. At least I thought she was." I break off and run a hand down my face. "I was unconscious most of those two days. Sorry guys, but that's all I can tell you."

"Kayla," Dean starts sweeping everything in his duffel as he talks. "This is really important, were you followed when you went out for a drive today?"

"What?" I pause. "No, I don't think so."

"Think, were there any strange cars following you at all?"

"No, why would you even ask that?"

"They think you are dead Kayla, they think all of their loose ends are tied up, if someone saw you today..." he breaks off. The way he is brushing everything into the gaping mouth of his duffel suddenly seems like a preemptive strike.

I want to tell him that he is being paranoid, ridiculous, stuff like that doesn't happen in Clovis NM, but the last couple days have come to redefine my definition of impossible. "I wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry. I don't think so, but I have no idea."

Sam looks worried as he shuffles around to stand by Dean. "Dean, if these people are willing to sacrifice a teenager girl to keep some fires at bay and gets some stupid votes, who knows what the heck they will do."

Dean looks disgusted as he shakes his head. "People man."

Sam just nods in response.

"Do you think we need to get out of here?" I ask quietly, hugging my arms to myself as if that will somehow keep me safe from all of the newfound horrors.

Dean crosses to the front window and peers out.

"I don't see anything," he says and when he turns back to me the grin on his face is forced. "I think we are okay, but just in case, Sam and I will keep an eye out."

Sam looks surprisingly good for having been bed ridden the previous day and I think it must be a Winchester thing, because Dean can go from looking like he is dead on his feet, useless save for his pretty face, to looking like a lethal killing machine, hell bent on destruction. It's chilling how fast his eyes can go dead.

I thank them under my breath before I excuse myself to turn and go up to my room. All this talk has made me paranoid that something or someone terrible is in the house so I switch on every light while I ascend the stairs, feeling better once all of the darkness is chased away.

I don't lie down with the intention of falling asleep, I just want to give my mind time to process the all the new information and how my life has yet again been turned upside down. The only safe haven I have had since my parent's death is now my prison. Sam and Dean's morbid words bounce around in my brain as I count the dots on the ceiling.

The next thing I know I wake up to a feeling that something isn't quite right as a flaxen haired women crawls into my window and lands onto my floor with barely a sound. I blink, trying to rouse myself from this weird dream and realize with a start that she is stalking towards me.

Shit, not a dream.

I roll out of bed and onto my feet as she glares at me.

"You just had to live through it all didn't you?" she asks circling me.

My eyes dart around the room, looking for a weapon of some sort.

"What are you talking about?" I shoot back as I start easing myself towards the door.

She picks up on what I am doing and moves that direction as well.

"Nothing. Just shut up." I can see now that there is metal glinting in her hand...a knife?

She rotates the hilt of the blade in her palm. A knife… That's just great.

"Look," I say as I take another step towards my door. "I don't know who you are or what I did to you, but if you put the knife down..." I break off and have a sinking feeling that I'm about to know what it's like to be stabbed.

"Nothing," she sobs. "You haven't done anything, but I...I have to." she rounds closer to me and I realize with a soft exhale of "dammit" we are going to bump right into each other.

I curse the day that I decided I wanted my bed closer to the window to let more sunlight in.

And apparently crazy blondes with steak knives.

She must realize it too, because she slows her stroll, holding the weapon out at arm's length with shaky fingers. "I'm sorry," she says as she raises it high. Thankfully her grip is weak and I manage to knock it out of her hands and to the floor.

We leap for it at the same time and I think, as she kicks me in the side with quite a bit of force, that I might have underestimated her. The blade goes skittering across the floor and disappears under my bed. My eyes lock with her panicked blue ones as I try to roll away from her.

Bad move. I end up on my back and before I can even process it her dainty manicured hands are wrapped around my neck in a vise grip.

Oh yeah, totally underestimated out of her mind Barbie...

I claw at her hands as tears run down her face. I can see she doesn't want to do this, but the pressure on my throat is overwhelming, I land a knee into her side and she falters for just a moment as I gasp in a lungful of air. Then with resolve in her tear-stained face and with my oxygen deprived brain unable to grasp what is happening and send a message to my body to protect itself she is back, all of her body weight pins me down and her hands form in a v shape into my trachea.

If you've never been choked before, I don't recommend it. It's what I imagine drowning to be like, except instead of the calm blue waters dragging you under its hard, warm, flesh that cuts off your right to breathe. But you still try because your survivor instinct won't let you go gently into that good night, so you end up looking like a beached fish gulping for air, any speck of it you can get. It's not enough, so your lungs tighten up and your body jackknifes and you make one last ditch attempt to save yourself that you know won't work but you have to try.

They couldn't have sent a skinny bitch, is the last thought that processes in my brain and of course it's sarcastic, before blackness floods my vision and I swear I can hear boots storming in my direction.