"I'm freezing my ass off out here." Dean complained as they sat on the back steps of Jordan's house. It had been over an hour and nothing had happened as of yet.

"What time is it?" Sam questioned his brother again while breathing hot air into his hands, as he cupped them over his mouth.

"11:15." Dean answered as he withdrew his cell phone from his pocket, and sliding his finger over the side button, pushed it down to turn the light on.

Sam sighed deeply, obviously indicating to Dean and the crisp night air that he was tired of waiting. The temperature had dropped a good ten degrees and his thin button-up shirt just wasn't cutting it anymore. He was starting to feel sorry for himself that he had left his heavy Carhartt jacket in the backseat of the Impala.

"Hey Sammy?" Dean asked as two of them sat there huddled in their own skins, their arms now wrapped around their knees as they shivered in a very feeble attempt to keep warm.

"Yeah?" He answered with chattering teeth.

"I'm sorry for how I've been acting toward you lately.

"What do you mean?" Now curious, he had to ask. Dean wasn't one to apologize and when he did, it made Sam uneasy.

"You know, I've been riding you, teasing you, saying anything to piss you off." Dean replied nonchalantly, circling a hand in the air as he rattled each one off.

"You do that all the time." Sam told him, laughing with a look of confusion. Why was he apologizing for it all now?

"Yeah, but I've been going out of my way lately." Dean quietly confessed. Now that they had all this extra time on their hands, he might as well come clean.

"Why?" He questioned as he tilted his head to listen better, the wind howling loudly about them now.

"Because it felt, normal." Dean answered honestly.

"I don't understand."

"Ever since Dad died," He paused. "I don't know. Something's been, off."

"That's normal, Dean." Sam told him, turning to face his brother more.

"Yeah, but I don't what it to be normal, Sammy. We've never been normal, why start now?" Dean asked him, trying to not let the small tears that were building up fall away, his tension slowly mounting.

"I still don't understand what it has to do with you pushing my buttons all the time." Even after he said it he wished he could take it back. He didn't feel like getting into an odd "Winchester" moment while they sat in the darkened backyard of their latest hunt. It just wasn't a good time, or place.

"It's the only think that feels-" He paused at this point, not wanting to tell Sam how he was really feeling, but also searching for the word that really emphasized his true emotion. "Right." He let slip, wiping at his cheek with the back of his hand as the first stray tear fell.

The older boy might not want to admit it, but as the minutes ticked by he became more and more scared. Scared for his life, for Sam's and maybe even for that bitch of a girl upstairs.

"I don't know if I'm ready for this one."

"What, you're kidding right?" Sam asked surprised.

"I don't want to die tonight, Sammy"

"You're not going anywhere, Dean." Sam told him outright. "I don't care what I saw in my vision, I'm not going to let it happen." He stated, leaning back as he continued. "And besides, when has that ever stopped you from completing a hunt, especially when it involves saving a pretty girl?"

"She's a bitch." Dean answered.

"Wow, and when has that ever stopped you? I thought you liked all kinds?" He chuckled slightly amused, as he smiled at Dean and tried to compose himself.

"I do, but she just-" He started in.

"Pushes your buttons?" Sam asked, laughing.

"Yeah."

"Oh my God, you like her." Sam grinned from ear to ear. "Like really like her."

"Maybe." Dean answered quietly.

"Why am I not surprised?" Sam asked himself as he shook his head, still smiling. Though, secretly, he was a little jealous at the thought.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean questioned, now getting irritated.

"Dean, you seem to find a girl in every town we stop in and on most hunts we come across."

"So?"

"Why is this one any different then the rest of-" Sam started to inquire of his brother, but was interrupted by a loud shriek that came from upstairs.

The boys were up and on their feet in no time flat.

Kicking the back door in and off its hinges, Dean entered first as Sam turned on a flashlight to help illuminate their way. Creeping through the kitchen they glanced around quietly, but nothing seemed out of place.

"I really wish we could have researched this more." Sam complained in a whisper walking slightly hunched down behind his brother as they quickly, but quietly, double-checked everything before moving on.

"Yeah, well we kinda don't have the time for that right now." Dean told him as they stepped into the hallway and crept slowly up the stairs that led to the second floor.

Only halfway to the landing and another piercing scream filled their ears.

"Somebody help me!" Jordan cried out loudly, screaming twice after. "Get away from me! No! STOP!"

That was all it took. The boys were on the landing and running in the direction of Jordan's fearful cries.

Entering through the partially open door at the end of the hall, the boys burst in to find the slender brunette slumped in the corner of her bedroom, and the form of a young girl in a very tattered and blood stained dress, standing before her.

"You'll get what you give." The blonde haired spirit told them, turning to face the brothers and reveling in her hand a long, bloody, carving knife. Only then could they see Jordan clearly.

"Dean." Sam blurted out as he caught slight of the sticky red substance that was pooling next to the body of the Harris girl.

"I'm on it." Dean said as he looked through the eye of the rock salt gun and fired at Claire twice. She disappeared into the darkness.

"You'll get what you give." She repeated, appearing behind them in the doorway to the room.

"Oh hell no, you aren't getting away that easily." Dean told her as she disappeared again and he ran from the room and down the stairs to lure her out into the open. "And what the fuck is that kind of cryptic shit?" He yelled as he took the stairs two at a time.

"Jordan? Jordan can you hear me?" Sam asked frantically as he moved quickly to lay her out on the floor after watching the other boy chase after the young spirit. "Jordan, come on. You can't do this." He told her, moving her head and realizing she was basically lifeless. "Jordan." He quietly begged again, his lower lip beginning to quiver.

He ran his fingers out over her body to look for any wounds or gashes. It was obvious Claire had done some harm to her before they had arrived, but it was hard to see in the dark with just a lone flashlight and one free hand.

Sam gave a quick intake of air as he felt a sticky wetness spread out over her belly. Shining the scope of light over her once again, he was horrified to see that Claire had used the knife to rip open the other girl's abdomen. It wasn't deep enough to open the stomach contents, but that in no way meant Jordan wasn't bleeding out, and all over her own floor to boot.

"Oh, God." Sam whimpered, turning to look around the room for something to press against her injury. "DEAN!" He yelled as loudly as he could. Just looking at her like this, made him think of Jessica, and he wasn't about to let Jordan go if there was any chance of saving her.

----------

"Come out, come out where you are." Dean sang in a teasing manner, hoping to lure Claire out from wherever she was hiding. So far it wasn't working.

He now had all the lights on for the bottom floor of the house, but had made sure to keep the curtains drawn tightly. After all, they had enough problems to contend with. Who needed to add curious and noisy neighbors to the list? Like they needed another run in with the cops.

"Claire," Dean called out, rounding the corner into the kitchen as a knife flew past his head. "Holy shit!" He yelled stepping back, flattening his body against the wall behind him. "Why you little, bitch." He fumed cocking the shotgun and filling up the doorway with his muscular frame. "I hope you like the taste of rock salt and sulfur." He told her as he let a round off before she disappeared into thin air again.

Unfortunately he missed her completely, but the same could not be said for the short 5'1", twelve year-old girl, as she stepped up next to Dean once again with the knife in hand and drug it hard across his chest, from his right shoulder down to his bellybutton.

He screamed loudly as the sharp blade dug into the softness of his tender skin.

"You'll get what you give." The young blonde told him as she tried to lunge at his body with the blade once more.

Luckily for him, he was able to elbow her harshly in the face, knocking her off balance. Anyone else and it would of broke their nose, but considering she was dead, there wasn't much damage.

----------

Upon hearing Dean's loud, and obviously painful bellow, Sam looked up from pressing Jordan's blood soaked robe against her wound and couldn't help the urge that raced through his body to check on his older brother.

Looking back from Jordan to the door, unsure of what to do, Sam's confusion was broken as he listened to Dean awkwardly pulling himself up the stairs, huffing and clutching his stomach as he went.

"That brat is going to be harder to catch then I thought," He confessed as he walked into the room hunched over and dropped down next to Jordan's body, across from Sam. "How is she?" he finally thought to ask as he came to the consciousness that this was not going to be a standard grab and kill.

"I don't think she's going to make it, Dean." He admitted as he lifted up the blood soaked terry cloth to give his brother a better view.

It wasn't until then that Dean saw that Sam had been crying, the flashlight reflecting off his glistening tears as they slid slowly from his cheeks.

"Sammy?"

"I'm fine," He lied, using the back of his hand to wipe them away, but leaving a streak of Jordan's blood transfer in the process. "But she's not, Dean. We have to get her to a hospital." He tried to say without whimpering.

"And just what are we going to tell them?" Dean questioned, but this time in a more, brotherly, manner.

"I don't know, anything!" He yelled slightly as he began to loose it and his tears fell faster. "Tell them we came home to find her like this, that we're her cousins from out of town, that the back door was open when we came in and by the time we found her she was already like this." He rattled off.

Dean had to admit, Sam was still a quick thinker, even in the worth of times.

"Sam, they're going to want to call the police." Dean reasoned. It's not that he wanted to let her die, but spending a lifetime in prison labeled a killer didn't sound great either.

"Dean-" Sam started to beg, but was cut off by Jordan's deep intake of air as she thankfully came too. It should have been a good sign, but it wasn't.

With Jordan trying to move about and becoming hysterical at the realization of what was happening, she only started her heart pumping faster and that only meant her injury began to spill more blood.

"Jordan," Dean addressed her as he used his weight to hold her down, pushing her back flat out across the floorboards again. "You have to stay still." He actually used his eyes at this point to plead with her. He knew if he started loosing it as Sam was, then they'd all be dead without question.

"She's going to kill me." She blurted out, frantically trying to catch her breath as the room spun in circles, no thanks to the massive loss of blood.

Sam was crying non stop now, not something he would of normally done, but he was to the point that he felt his world was crashing down around him and he could hold it in no longer.

Dean on the other hand, was doing all he could to keep himself in check. He was feeling all of the same things his brother was, bleeding from him own wound and hoping to God, none of them died here tonight, but the only way he got through the hard times that were thrust upon them, was to push past it. Until a momentary laps came along when he could quietly let himself break, and then collect the pieces again.

----------

They tried to bandage Jordan up as best they could. With the amount of blood she had spilt they were afraid that even if they could get her to a doctor, it would still be too late.

"Dean?" Sam spoke up to his brother as he finished wrapping the bandages around Jordan's stomach from her stationary position on the floor.

"I'm OK," He stated, wiping the last of his own blood off his now naked upper torso, as he stood over the two at his feet. He was lucky enough that he was a good foot or so taller then Claire. This made her control with the knife not as deadly as it could end up being for the again, motionless brunette Sam was nervously checking over and over.

"Are we ready?"

"Yeah," Dean answered, pulling his own button front shirt back on as he grasped a bloody, white t-shirt in hand and picked his shotgun back up with the other. "You know she's not going to let us out that easily." He told his brother, speaking of Claire. She wanted something as compensation for what she had been put through, and she was willing to take it form anyone at this point.

Lifting Jordan's dead weight in his arms now, Sam stood behind Dean as they both readied them selves for the task ahead. Dean positioned the gun to his shoulder, kicked the door open and stepped out to face their latest nemesis.