Sam was back on the computer again. "Well, at least now we know which branch of the family it is," he said, looking over at Dean. He'd been searching city records, old newspaper articles, tax files, anything he could find on the family of Thomas 'Slim' Foster. They never did figure out how neither of them even recognized Slim at the funeral, so Sam was trying to find anything he could on him, Rose and the entire family, starting with the restaurant, The Irish Rose. The records showed it belonged to a woman named Minnie Foster McClure. "That must be 'Grams,'" he said.

"Yeah, well, what else have you got?" Dean asked. "Anything on Slim? We saw him turn demon right in front of us fourteen years ago. Is there any way to know what really killed him?"

"I haven't gotten that far yet," Sam answered. "But I did find this." He pushed the computer away and stood up, putting both hands through his hair. What he had discovered clearly disturbed him.

"What is it?" Dean looked up from Rose's bag. He had been through it countless times before, but he kept looking, trying to figure out everything he could about this girl who had turned demon on him. Her ring swung from a chain around his neck. He walked over and looked at the computer. The screen showed a newspaper article from Dallas. "Four-year-old rescued from house fire," Dean read. "Just two weeks before her 5th birthday, four-year-old Katy McClure was pulled from a house fire…" Dean looked at his brother.

"Look at the date, Dean," Sam said, obviously upset. Dean looked back at the computer screen. The date on the article read, November 2, 1983.

"What the hell?" Dean asked.

Dean sat on the roof of the building across from the restaurant in the pre-dawn hour of the morning. An early Spring frost had hit Dallas and he turned his collar to the cold and damp of the early morning air. Sam walked up to him, coffee in hand. "Well?" Sam asked.

Dean took the coffee from his brother, holding it with both hands to warm them. "I dunno, Sammy. I think we did a better job blending in on that last job than we ever could down there." He motioned for Sam to look through the binoculars down at the bustle of delivery drivers, cooks, waiters and staff getting ready for the morning breakfast crowd. Every one of them had eyes of solid black.

They turned and silently continued scoping the restaurant, looking for some kind of way in.

A few hours later, just before lunch, a red Ferrari came screeching up to the valet, catching Dean's attention. Sam was next to him, with an earphone in his ear, holding the transistor radio. Dean watched as Rose jumped out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet. Poking at Sam, he motioned to the restaurant and Sam looked over in time to see Rose greeting a man at the door, hugging him warmly. It was Detective Lawrence. Rose and the detective turned to go inside.

"Here we go," Sam said, pulling the earwig out of his ear and unplugging it from the radio so they both could listen.

Sure enough, Rose and Detective Lawrence joined Grams back at her usual table. The breakfast crowd had thinned out and the lunch crowd hadn't started yet. They were alone in the restaurant. Dean could see Rose hugging her Grams through the large plate-glass window. He almost thought he saw her look up, directly at him and he ducked instinctively.

"How are you, my dear," Grams said as Rose kissed her on both cheeks. "You like your gift, I presume?"

"It's a beaut," Rose chirped. "So much better than that last junk heap I was driving."

Dean muttered under his breath. Rose loved that car and he knew it! Sam made a slight shushing noise at him and waved his hand for Dean to be quiet so they could listen.

"Katy, darling," Grams was saying over the transistor, "I brought you in here for a reason. Detective Lawrence tells me that there were two young men looking for you – young men who seemed to know you very well."

Dean and Sam looked at each other, both of them realizing they shouldn't have revealed how well they did know the woman they were searching for. Neither of them had time to think about it, as they continued listening to the conversation going on in the restaurant below.

"Oh, them," Rose said to Grams, her voice dropping. "You don't have to worry about them, Grams, they're nobody."

"They are not 'nobody'!" Grams insisted, pounding on the table as she said it. "You know who they are as well as I do! You listen to me, missy! You brought those boys here – you clean it up! Do you understand me?"

"Yes'm," Rose replied with the same respect Dean and Sam used for John. "I'll take care of it."

Still hiding behind the top of the building, the brothers didn't see Rose get up to leave, but they heard the scrape of her chair.

"Oh, and Katy, dear," Grams called after her granddaughter, her voice suddenly syrupy sweet, "Please don't kill any more of the kitchen staff. It's an awful mess to have to clean up right before the dinner rush."

"Of course," Rose replied, backing away from her grandmother, heading for the door. "It won't happen again, Grams, I promise."

Dean raised his head to watch Rose heading for the valet, who was already pulling her new car up to her.

"Dean, wait," Sam said, motioning for him to listen to the radio. Grams was talking again, this time to Detective Lawrence.

"That girl always has been a liability for this family," Grams said. "When you take her out this time, will you make sure it's something neither of them can recover from?"

The brothers looked at each other in total confusion as Detective Lawrence answered her.

"Yes ma'am," Lawrence said. "I don't know how they've survived this long, to tell you the truth. They should've both been dead a long time ago." Detective Lawrence rose to leave, leaving Grams alone at the table.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, who shut off the radio and packed it into his bag. Neither brother spoke, but they both had the same question on their mind. Neither of them, Grams had said, and Lawrence had added should have both been dead. They looked at each other. Rose and who else? One of them? Instead of voicing the question on both of their minds, Dean said, "Come on. We've got to get ready."

"Ready for what?" Sam asked, still trying to shake off the ominous words he'd just heard Grams say.

"Ready for Rose," Dean answered. "She's coming after us."

They gathered their surveillance gear and swiftly left the rooftop. Rose was coming for them, and Detective Lawrence was going after her. Dean realized this was going to be one hell of a fight.