Charlotte swung her bag in the car as she slid in the back and looked between the brothers. Dean's face made it clear she wasn't to ask any questions yet whatsoever.

Driving down the road, Dean cleared his throat and passed Sam John's Journal. The thing was small brown leather bound notebook that held everything and anything John knew about monsters and the people he's worked with. He never went anywhere without it, and yet here it was. "Dad wrote these numbers in the journal, I'm thinking their coordinates. What do you guys think?" Dean asked as Sam passed it back silently to Charlotte. Charlotte looked over the numbers and nodded

"Looks like, yeah." She nodded.

"If it is we need to stop by somewhere to get a map, this looks like the mid west." Sam spoke, his voice seeming cracked as if he had been crying.

"Thought so. Might as well drive over to Utah and get a motel room there, I figured." Dean said and Sam gave him a death glare. Dean knew they couldn't stop, not for their peace of mind.

"Sounds like a plan." Charlotte said slowly, watching the silent interaction between the brothers.

They got two rooms when they got there, as they usually did: one for Charlotte and one for the brothers. Charlotte settled her bag on to the bed. It wasn't necessary for Sam and Dean to get her a room if she couldn't sleep, but Dean enforced it.

Later that night when Charlotte sat on the bed flicking through channel after channel of cartoons and soap operas (especially Days Of Our Lives re-runs. What a bitch.) A knock came at the door and Charlotte groaned, as if she was doing something interesting before being interrupted, and opened the door in her 'Team Legolas' shirt she bought at a convention years ago that still fits her and plain grey pajama pants. "Yes?" She asked, her eyes looking like they had seen too much television and her golden blonde hair in those curls she could never straighten.

Dean was standing there trying not to chuckle at her shirt of Legolas posing with his bow pointed out towards whoever was in front of the person who wore the shirt. His humored look dropped and he sighed, "We need to talk."

"Oh, Dean, how lovely to see you again, it's been so long." She replied sarcastically. "Care to watch Days Of Our Lives with me?" She replied with even more sarcasm.

He rolled his eyes and put a hand on her arm, closing the door behind him, the dim light of the bedside table lamp illuminating their features "It's about Sam." He told her, really wishing he wouldn't have to say this at all.

"Yeah, I noticed. Why is he still here?" She asked, sitting down on the bed beside him as she muted the television from behind her.

"You know what happened to my mom, right? The fire and everything." He told her, his face mournful. He hated thinking about it.

Charlotte saw how he hated talking about it and knew very well that he didn't want to talk about it. Her sharp grey eyes softened to him sympathetically, caring, and she replied quietly "Yeah, I remember."

"Jess, that's what happened. That's why Sam is still here." He looked up at Charlotte, hiding the tears; he shook his head as he looked down "Same damn thing." He said quieter and Charlotte looked over his features that were dimly illuminated to one side and harshly illuminated off and on from the television screen on the other side.

Her emotions raged within her. That was her job and hers alone. Keep Sam, Jess, and Dean alive and safe. She lets her guard down her a second and she got a Jess pot roast. Poor darling had nothing to do with any of this monster business and she got killed because of it. Charlotte felt rage, not as much rage towards whatever killed Jess (which probably also killed the Winchesters' mother) but more rage towards herself. She wanted to forget about Jess, to pretend like she didn't exist, and while she had her fun, Jess died. She felt the weight of guilt absolutely crush her to emotional asphyxiation.

But Charlotte had her role to play for the brothers now. She was their rock. They told her everything that burdened their brain. She needed to make sure the brothers didn't have a guilt weighing down on them. God knows that was the only thing between them and certain death.

Charlotte saw Dean put his head down, facing at the bedspread they both sat on. His eyes were closed mournfully. Both of them had wanted Sam to have a normal life, which they were sure of. So the guilt weighed down on both Charlotte and Dean. Charlotte hid her pain well; it's what she always did. Never let them see you cry, never let them see you break was her motto. She put a hand delicately on the side of Dean's face that was farthest from her. His eyes flittered open to look at her, and both felt a rush of nostalgia as they remembered all the good times they had once their eyes met.

"Dean! Get out! Quickly! You know you can't be here!" Charlotte hissed at him playfully, in the locker room the cheerleading squad occupied. Charlotte had just been in the process of dressing from her uniform to her normal day clothes. Charlotte, in 1997, was head of the cheerleading squad at the local high school in Lawrence, Kansas. Everyone knew who she was, but no one really knew her. Except, maybe, the Winchester boys she spent so much time with all of a sudden. Her new camaraderie seemed random to everyone except her. It started months ago when she stumbled on to their case of a werewolf in the school after hours. Dean rolled his eyes, approaching his girlfriend of a month.

"It's just you." He replied with a small smirk as he got closer to her "And, now, me."

He winked at her and she gave him an amicable shove "Shut up, you perv." She teased as she slipped her shirt back on, an Aerosmith shirt. She turned her back to him to put the shirt on and he ended up hugging her from behind. Smiling, Charlotte had leaned her head back on to his shoulders and looked up at him with gleaming grey eyes. Dean had been there for her thick and thin, and he had been there when her mother died 5 months ago. It was clear to her he wasn't going to leave her. He pecked her cheek tenderly and she hummed a smile, closing her eyes. Throughout her whole life, even with this whole monster business, she had never been happier.

Dean seemed to be having the same flashback because before Charlotte knew it, his lips were pressed to hers and she was pressed against the mattress and Dean himself.

Charlotte spent the night pretending to sleep in Dean's arms. She was tired, granted, but she still couldn't actually sleep. A few hours before morning slipped through the sky, Charlotte felt the mattress shift weight. Dean was slipping out of bed. She pretended to sleep soundly, muttering nonsense as she always did when she actually slept so Dean wouldn't think she was awake as he made his quick getaway. Once the bed was all hers, she heard the shuffling of clothes, the ruffling of a shirt, the zip up of the pants' zipper, and Dean clearing his throat softly before a slight pause, a silence. Dean looked back at Charlotte with a slight smile at how peaceful she seemed. And then came the opening and closing of the door, quietly so. Dean figured she needed to rest, and he was more right than he intended to be.