**For some reason, I didn't have a lot of inspiration for this episode. I really don't know why. Anyway, I'd love everybody to give me a flashback that they'd like to see (if you don't have one in mine, you can just put characters that you'd like to have in the flashback or an event that you want to happen). Also, thank you to Ladysunshine6 who PMed me a lot of ideas (some of which I used in this chapter), and if any of you have any questions you can PM me or review them. Thank you to everyone who reads. You're awesome! Review, please! I absolutely love reading them!**

Shadow

Dean parked in front of the apartment building and got out while Sam just sat there staring at the paper he was holding that read MANHUNT CONTINUES FOR STEALTH KILLER. I opened the backdoor and stepped out onto the sidewalk as Dean got his toolbox from the trunk. Meredith McDonell. The young woman who was killed in her apartment a week ago. Doors and windows were locked and her alarm system was still armed. So now we were in Chicago, Illinois working the case of the Stealth Killer.

"You coming?" I asked, knocking on Sam's window. He looked up at me before setting down the paper and getting out of the Impala to stand next to me.

"Yeah. All right, guys, this is the place," Sam regarded the run down apartment building as Dean joined us.

"You know, I got to say, Dad made it just fine without these stupid costumes. I feel like a high school drama dork," Dean told us, and I laughed, glancing at Sam.

"What was that play you did again?" Dean asked, and Sam looked away to hide his embarrassment before looking back at us and rolling his eyes.

"'Our Town'," I laughed the name, and Dean nodded in agreement. "You were adorable, Sammy," I remembered the twelve year old boy singing on stage. I'd dragged Dean to it, even though we mostly laughed through the play (much to the annoyance of everybody else in the auditorium)

"Look, you two want to pull this off or not?" Sam asked, but I could hear the suppressed amusement in his voice.

"I'm just saying these outfits cost hard-earned money," Dean had a point. The outfits weren't cheap.

"Whose?" Sam shot back, and I rolled my eyes as the two brothers that walked on either side of me started bickering.

"Ours. You think credit-card fraud is easy?" I smiled at the oxymoron in Dean's words as we walked up the stairs only to be met with the landlady. It took all of two minutes to convince her that Sam and Dean were with the alarm company, and I was an inspector that was making sure they went by procedure.

"Thanks for letting us look around," Sam thanked her, and the rather short lady looked up at him.

"The police said they were done with the place, so…" She didn't finish the sentence as she led us around to the living room. I looked down at the bloodstained rug and then at the blood splattered walls. "You guys said you were with the alarm company?"

"They are. I'm just here to make sure they don't screw up," I corrected distractedly, my gaze still on all the blood.

"Well, no offense, but your alarm is about as useful as boobs on a man," Sam snickered behind me, and I nudged him while trying to fight my own smile at the woman's outspokenness.

"Well, that's why we're here - to see what went wrong, to stop it from happening again," Dean told her, going over to one of the walls.

"Now, you paper said you found the body," I glanced at her as I talked, and she nodded in agreement. I walked over to where Dean was standing.

"Right after it happened?" Sam questioned.

"No, a few days later," She told us. "Meredith's work called. She hadn't showed up," I moved the curtains to see out the window down at the street. Both windows were locked securely. "I knocked on her door. That's when I noticed… the smell,"

"Any windows open? Any sign of break-in?" Dean asked routinely.

"No, windows were locked. Front door was bolted. Chain was on the door. We had to cut it just to get in," She explained what had happened, gesturing to the severed chain that hung from the door.

"And the alarm was still on?" Dean checked, and she nodded again.

"Like I said, bang up job your company is doing," Dean made a noise of agreement before his eyes swept the room again.

"But there must've been some overturned furniture, some sign of a struggle," I insisted, but the landlady shook her head.

"Everything was in perfect condition… except Meredith," She added the last part after a moment, and my eyes scanned the blood-soaked carpet and floor.

"Well, what condition was Meredith in?" Sam asked from where he was still by the window. Looking around at all the blood, I think the answer was obvious enough.

"Meredith was all over, in pieces," The lady remembered hauntingly. "The guy who killed her must've been some kind of a whack job, but I tell you if I didn't know any better, I'd have said a wild animal did it," My eyes shot to Dean's, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. Werewolf?

"Ma'am, you mind if we take some time, give this place a once-over?" Sam questioned her, and she shrugged.

"Go right ahead. Knock yourself out," She turned and headed back to the door, shutting it behind her. As soon as she was gone, Dean set down his tool set and opened it, taking out the EMF meter.

"So the killer walks in and out of the apartment," Dean started, powering up the reader.

"Leaving behind nothing - no weapons, no prints, no sign of a struggle," I finished for him, looking around the room again before kneeling beside Dean.

"I'm telling you, the minute I found that article, I knew this was our kind of gig," Sam told us, squatting beside us, and I glanced at the meter in Dean's hands.

"I think we agree with you," I leaned over Dean's shoulder to study the EMF reading that was going off the charts.

"So, you talked to the cops?" Sam asked us. We'd gotten here a day ago, and Sam had been doing research while Dean and I had gone to talk to the police about the murders.

"Yeah," I answered for both of us. "We talked to Mike; he's the deputy,"

"Mike?" Dean echoed, frowning, and I turned to look into his eyes, realizing our faces were inches apart.

"That was his name," I reminded Dean, smiling slightly at the look on his face.

"His name was officer," I heard Sam chuckle behind us, and I smiled and took the EMF meter from Dean's hands, standing and walking over to the far wall.

"So, what did you find out?" Sam questioned while Dean and I moved around the room.

"For the most part, nothing new," I answered. Except for the most important fact of this entire case. I opened my mouth to tell Sam what we'd found, but Dean beat me to it.

"Except for one thing they're keeping out of the papers," Dean added. "Meredith's heart was missing," Sam turned to look at us with a frown.

"Her heart?" He repeated.

"Yeah," I agreed, glancing at the device that still read dangerously high EMF levels.

"So, what do you think did it to her?" Sam asked. He'd really been out of the game a long time if he didn't know what that meant.

"The landlady said it looked like an animal attack. Maybe it was," Dean mused as we came to stand by Sam.

"Werewolf," I suggested, glancing at the two boys.

"Not a werewolf. The lunar cycle's not right. Plus, if it was a creature, it would've left some kind of trace," Sam reasoned logically, and I mentally kicked myself for being too distracted to realize the lunar cycle was wrong. I had been unusually distracted lately. My mind kept going back to what Sam had said about his vision of Dean dying.

"A spirit, then?" I offered, forcing myself back into the present. I looked at Dean to see him studying the bloodstains intently with a look in his green eyes that was all too familiar.

"See if you can find some masking tape around," He instructed, and two minutes later he was on his hands and knees, sticking the tape to the major blood spatters. Finally, he stood, and my eyes ran over the symbol, committing it to memory.

"Ever see that symbol before?" Sam asked us, and I shook my head.

"No," I spoke shortly at the same time Dean said, "Never,"

"Me neither," Sam admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.


"Sorry, boys," I was not sorry in the least as the burly men handed me the four hundred dollars that I'd just won. Every hunter at some point in their life learns how to play pool. Well.

"Here," I turned to see Dean holding two shots in his hands. I took one and he wrapped his free arm around my waist as he tapped his shot glass against mine before we downed them. "Hey," Dean nodded to the backdoor, and I looked to see Sammy had just walked in and sat down at an empty table.

"Let's go," I sighed, and we made our way to sit across from Sam at the table he'd gotten. "Talked to some guys that work here," I told him, glancing at the two bartenders. "She waited tables here. Nothing special,"

"Everyone here is her friend. Everyone says she's normal," Dean added, and Sam still looked unsure. "She didn't do or say anything weird before she died. So…"

"What about the symbol on the carpet? Find anything?" I questioned him, and Sam shook his head in annoyance.

"Nope. Nothing. It wasn't in dad's journal or in any of the usual books. I just have to dig a little deeper, I guess," He replied, looking around as if the bar might have the answer.

"Well, there was a first victim, right, before Meredith?" Dean prompted, and I took the book from Sam, lifting up the pages about Meredith.

"Yeah, here. Ben Swardstrom," Dean glanced at the picture of the bald man under the headline CHICAGO MAN MURDERED INSIDE HOME. "Ben Swardstrom - found mutilated in his townhouse," My eyes flew to the top of the article to check the date. "A month ago,"

"Same deal. The door was locked. The alarm was on," Sam listed without having to look at the article.

"Is there any connection between the two of them?" Dean questioned.

"Nothing I could tell, or maybe not yet, at least," He responded before adding, "Ben was a banker. Meredith was a waitress. They never met, never knew anyone in common. They were practically from different worlds,"

"So, basically we've got jack," I summed up, and Sam's head suddenly jerked up in surprise. I turned to look behind me and followed his eyes to a blonde girl sitting at a table. "What? Who is she?" Sam didn't answer, and instead got up and began walking over to her. "Sam," I hissed, but he still didn't respond. He tapped her on the shoulder, making her turn to look at him. I couldn't help listening in to their conversation; my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Meg," He sounded shocked as she turned, so I could see her face fully.

"Sam?" She questioned in shock, her eyes going wide. "Is that you? What're you doing here?"

"I'm just in town - visiting friends," She looked around and then back.

"Where are they?" She asked, and I bit back a laugh as Sam struggled to find an excuse.

"Come on," I turned to see Dean getting up from his chair, and I followed him to where Sam and Meg were having their discussion.

"Oh, I did," She was saying as we came up on Sam's right. "I came. I saw. I conquered. Oh, and I met what's his name - something Michael Murray- at a bar,"

"Who?" Sam asked in confusion, and I bit my lip to hold in a laugh.

"It doesn't matter," She smiled, and it was the smile that first struck me as odd. Something about her was off, and I didn't like it. "Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while," She finished her explanation with another false smile. Dean cleared his throat, hoping Sam would get the message and introduce us.

"You're from Chicago?" I was starting to feel invisible as Sam ignored Dean and focused on Meg.

"No, Massachusetts - Andover. Gosh, Sam. What are the odds we'd run into each other?" She still had that fake smile on as she talked.

"Yeah, I know. I thought I'd never see you again," He shrugged, and I knew that he thought something was off as well.

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong," She clearly flirted with him. There was silence for a moment, and Sam happened to glance at us. I gave him a meaningful look that he seemed to understand.

"Oh, uh, I'm sorry, Meg. This is, um - this is my brother, Dean, and my friend, Mel," Meg looked at us with a surprised expression, and I frowned a bit at her.

"This is Dean?" She questioned, pointing to where Dean was standing slightly behind Sam with an arm wrapped loosely around my waist. "And that's Mel?" She gave me a once over before glancing at Sam, who was starting to look slightly uncomfortable.

"You've heard of us?" I asked, glancing from Sam to Meg uncertainly.

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of you," Her dark, near black eyes turned on Dean and narrowed. "Nice - the way you treat your brother like luggage,"

"Sorry?" My eyes flicked to where Sam was shifting from foot to foot and then back to Meg who was glaring at Dean.

"Why don't you let him do what he wants to do? Stop dragging him over god's green earth," Dean looked at me and then at Sam questioningly. "Just because you two are happy, doesn't mean he is,"

"What?" Was all I could think to say. Who was this girl, anyway?

"And you!" She turned her black eyes on me accusingly. "How dare you go around flaunting your relationship-"

"Meg," Sam cut her off a bit forcibly, and I turned my wide eyes on him. "It's alright," There was a moment of silence before Dean whistled lowly.

"Okay. Awkward," His words were followed by another deafening silence.

"We're going to get a drink now," I offered Meg and Sam a hesitant smile. "We'll leave you two to catch up," I took Dean's hand, and he was all to willing to get away from Meg. We made it to the bar, and Dean ordered two fireballs. "Something's weird about her,"

"Yeah, I'll say. I thought she was going to tear my head off back there," I laughed a bit, and nodded. "If only she knew what we really do,"

"Could you imagine? 'Why are you putting Sam in harm's way?'" I mocked, making Dean laugh as the fireballs came. We downed them, glancing back over at Meg, who was just leaving. Sam walked over to us before Dean could order anymore drinks.

"Come on. We should get an early start," Dean rolled his eyes in annoyance, but we left anyway.

"Who the hell was she?" Dean asked the question I wanted to know too.

"I don't really know. I only met her once," He answered. "Meeting up with her again? I don't know, man. It's weird,"

"About what she said - we treat you like luggage?" I prompted him, raising an eyebrow as he looked away and then back.

"Were you bitching about us to some chick?" Dean asked him, anger lining his voice.

"Look, I'm sorry, guys. It was when we had that huge fight when I was in the bus stop in Indiana. But that's not important. Just listen-" Sam began, brushing off Meg's comments.

"Well, was it true?" I interrupted him, and he glanced at me with an apology written in his eyes.

"Yeah, are we keeping you against your will, Sam?" Dean questioned, still somewhat angry.

"No, of course not. Now would you listen?" Sam was getting annoyed as well.

"What?" Dean asked irately as we turned to face Sam when he stopped walking.

"I think there's something strange going on here, guys," Sam's eyes flicked between Dean and I as he talked. "I mean, our kind of strange. Maybe even a lead,"

"I agree," I backed him up, glancing at Dean before continuing. "It's too coincidental for her to just happen to go to Chicago. And out of all the places this bar?"

"Exactly. I met Meg weeks ago literally on the side of the road. And the bar - the same one where a waitress worked who was slaughtered by something supernatural. You don't think that's a little weird?"

"I don't know. Random coincidence. It happens," Dean protested, and I shook my head.

"It doesn't happen to us," I pointed out.

"Look, I could be wrong, but I'm just saying there's something about this girl that I can't quite put my finger on," Sam tried to convey how sure he was that something wasn't right here.

"But I'd bet you'd like to," I smacked Dean in the arm and rolled my eyes. "Hey, I'm just saying maybe she's not a suspect. Maybe, Sammy's got a little thing for her, huh?" He turned to Sam as he added, "Maybe you're thinking a little too much with your upstairs brain, huh?" I couldn't hold back the laugh as I smacked him again.

"Do me a favor," Sam grinned at us as he spoke. "Check and see if there's really a Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts, and see if you can't dig anything up on that symbol,"

"What about you?" I asked him, frowning as it seemed like he was pinning all the work on us.

"I'm gonna watch Meg," He answered, making Dean's face break out in a grin.

"Yeah," Dean laughed, making the insinuation clear, and I couldn't help laughing as well.

"How many shots did you two take?" Sam muttered, looking back and forth between us. "I just want to see what's what. Better safe then sorry," Sam tried to defend himself.

"All right, you little pervert," Sam rolled his eyes at us.

"Dude," He glanced at me and then to Dean. "Do you need me to drive you to the motel?"

"The motel's just down the block, Sammy," I told him, rolling my eyes at his concern. "I think we can manage," We turned to go, and Dean slipped an arm around my waist, grinning back at Sam one last time before we headed back to the motel.

"Three people dead over the course of two weeks. All of them related to the play they are rehearsing there. The first one - Juliet Johnson - was the lead actress. She touched one of the props - a moon, I think, anyway, it was supposed to light up, but when she touched it… zap. They're calling it a tragic accident," I summarized, having just finished the last article that John had given me. Of all of us, I was the fastest reader, meaning that I was usually given the task of reading the articles on the way over to wherever the hunt was.

"Second death was five days later - Benjamin Lancaster - assistant director - lights went out - he went around back to find the electrician - electrician asks him to hold a wire and the wire electrocutes him. Electrician says that the wire wasn't even connected and shouldn't have even been conducting electricity. Third death was four days later - Robert McCue was the lead actor in the production. There's a scene where he gets soaking wet - there was a stray wire on the stage and next thing you know he's fried. No one knows how the wire got there or even which wire it was. They're thinking of closing the production," I finished the review and looked up at the driver's seat where John had his eyes fixed on the road as we passed the sign that read 'Welcome to Pontiac, Illinois'.

"First, we need to go to the theater," John spoke to all of us without looking. "A friend of mine is meeting us there - help us with the case," My eyes snapped to the back of his head in surprise. He'd never introduced us to any of his hunting buddies before.

"A friend?" Sam echoed warily, not sure what to make of it.

"Jack Stith. He's bringing his boy along," That was all the information John gave on the subject before returning to the hunt. "We'll split up and sweep the theater for EMF. Sam?" He prompted the boy sitting next to me, who glanced down at the map in his hands.

"It should be right up ahead," We pulled in to the theater's parking lot and got out. John opened the trunk and handed Dean the EMF reader that Dean then shoved under his jacket. Just then, a blue pickup pulled in to the empty parking space beside us, and I looked up just in time to see a middle-aged gruff looking man get out of the driver's side. He looked to be around forty with a slight beard and mustache along with the black hair covering his head. Unlike John, he was more lean, and was wearing a white button down shirt with baggy jeans. I returned my attention to the trunk to pick up an Iron rod that was only about a foot long and shoved it into my brown, knee high boot. Just in case a spirit decided to make an appearance, I would have something to protect myself.

When I turned back I found myself looking at an eighteen year old boy who was staring back at me. He was a good five inches taller than my five seven self, and his black hair seemed to stick up in the front with a just-woke-up tousled look. Thick black eyebrows made his dark eyes seem even darker against his olive skin, and he was wearing dark, faded jeans with a light grey long sleeve shirt that hugged his biceps. The boy was looking at me with a smirk that made me raise my eyebrows and purse my lips in an unimpressed look. Douchebag. My mind labeled him almost before I finished seizing him up. I felt an arm slide around my waist and smiled to myself. Dean and I usually kept the public displays to a minimum in front of John, for it had taken him long enough to accept us. We didn't want to push it.

"This is my son, Maxwell," The older man, Jack Stith, introduced the boy, who came forward to shake John's hand. I was surprised at the clear British accent in his voice. "This is John Winchester and his two boys, Dean and Sam," Jack pointed to each of them in turn.

"And who are you?" Maxwell spoke before his father could introduce me. In my peripheral vision, I saw Jack roll his eyes at his son.

"Melody Scott," I introduced myself, forcing a smile as I shook his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Melody," He gave me a charming smile that he probably gave every girl he met. "You can call me Max,"

"Mel," I gave him my nickname almost reluctantly; I didn't like being called by my full name. He greeted the name with another charming smile, and I offered a small one.

"Dean," Dean introduced himself, and Max tore his gaze from me to look at my boyfriend. I brought my right hand to the Dean's hand that was resting on my waist and laced my fingers with his, giving his hand a small squeeze and silently telling him to be nice to the boy. They both seemed to glare at each other, each unwilling to be the first to look away.

"Sam," Sam interrupted their stare down, and I shot him a grateful smile. Max moved on to shake Sam's hand and grin at the kid who was like my brother.

"We should scan the theater for EMF," Jack turned the focus on the job, turning to us. John nodded in agreement, glancing at me and then Dean and then Max.

"You four check the stage. We'll talk to the staff," John gestured to himself and Jack before taking a badge out of his pocket. "Try to avoid being seen. You see something, do not get involved. Understood?" John turned his dark eyes on Dean and I.

"Yes, sir," Dean answered for the three of us. Getting into the theater wasn't hard, neither was picking the lock to the back door, which I did in under a minute. The stage was deserted for the most part, and we walked in silence as Dean and Max moved their EMF readers over various objects in the room.

"Check the fuse box," I suggested, nodding to the metal box jutting out from the wall beside Max. Max glanced at me before obeying and running the device over the fuse box. The EMF was off the chart, making me smile in victory. "So whatever it is is, we know it's using electricity to kill the victims, and it gives off EMF," I recapped, glancing around at the boxes of costumes laying around.

"You're thinking vengeful spirit, then?" Max was looking around thoughtfully, and I glanced at him quizzically as he spoke.

"Someone must've died here," Sammy mused from behind us. "Electrocuted," He added, his eyes landing on the fuse box.

"Yeah, that would explain why people keep getting barbecued," Dean grinned, and I rolled my eyes at the choice of words, fighting a smile. "Come on. We should head back to the car," Dean held up the car keys to the Impala that John must've given him while I wasn't looking. "Dad said we should book two rooms at the nearest hotel,"

"Mels," I blinked out of my memories and turned to face Dean, who was sitting in a chair with a computer open on the table. "Look at this," I leaned over his shoulder as my eyes raced over the screen. Meg Masters from Andover, Massachusetts. I got out my phone dialed 2 before pressing it to my ear.

"Hey," Sam answered. Dean reached back and took the phone from me before I could stop him.

"Let me guess, you're lurking outside that poor girl's apartment, aren't you?" I laughed at Dean's words.

"No," Sam's lie was transparent, and we grew silent as we waited for him to admit it. "Yes,"

"You've got a funny way of showing your affection," Dean told him.

"You find anything on her or what?" Sam asked, irritated.

"Sorry, Sammy, but she checks out," I answered, taking the phone back. "In the Andover phone book there's a Meg Masters,"

"We even pulled her high school yearbook photo," Dean added, pulling the phone slightly closer to him. "Now, look, why don't you go knock on her door and invite her to a poetry reading or whatever it is you do, huh?" I smacked Dean on the shoulder lightly.

"Ignore him, Sammy," I spoke into the phone, still getting a bad feeling when I thought of the girl from the bar.

"Already done," He answered me, making me grin. "What about the symbol? Any luck?"

"Yeah, that we did have some luck with," Dean got back to the hunt. "Turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old-school, like 2,000 years before Christ. It's a sigil for Daeva,"

"What's a Daeva?" Sammy asked curiously.

"It basically means 'demon of darkness' Zoroastrian demons, and they're bloodthirsty, savage," I explained, remembering what we'd found in the book.

"Yeah, kind of like demonic pit bulls," Dean added, creating a more vivid image.

"How'd you figure that out?" Sam questioned, making me grin.

"Give us some credit, Sammy. We're not completely useless," I was slightly offended by his seemingly surprised question. "We do read, you know,"

"Name the last book you read," Sam challenged.

"Anna Karenina," I answered. It'd taken me a month to finish that book; I read in between hunts while I was in the car for seven hours at a time.

"Not you. Dean," Was Sam's reply. I glanced at Dean, and he just offered me a careless shrug.

"We called Dad's friend, Caleb. He told us, all right?" Dean confessed, and I bit my lip to hide a smile as I heard Sam laugh on the line. "Yeah, anyway, here's the thing, these Daevas, they have to be summoned, conjured,"

"So someone's controlling it?" He summed up.

"Yeah, exactly," I agreed, glancing at the screen where Meg's teenage face was smiling back at us. Dean leaned forward and typed Daeva into the search bar. I jerked back at the disgustingly grotesque images that popped up. "And it's dangerous, too. They tend to turn on the people that summoned them… and rip them to shreds,"

"So, what do they look like?" Sam asked the million dollar question.

"Well, nobody knows. I mean, nobody's seen them for a couple of millennia. Summoning a demon that ancient, someone really knows their stuff. I think we got a major player in town. Now why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?" I scoffed in disgust, hitting his shoulder again before straightening.

"Bite me," Was Sammy's response, making me grin.

"Bite her," Dean turned his reply into a perverted joke. "Don't leave teeth marks, though," He added as an afterthought. "Sam, are you…?" He pulled the phone from his ear, realizing Sam had hung up, and flipped the phone shut.


"Dean, you're not going to believe this," He came to the table where I was studying the two files side by side, and he slid an easy arm around my waist as he followed my eyes to the birthplace. His arm tightened and his body stiffened as he caught sight of the town: Lawrence, Kansas. He looked at me with wide green eyes, and I looked back in equal shock and confusion. At that moment, there was an urgent knock on the door. I finally snapped out of my surprised stupor and answered the door. Sam barged in, looking wildly around the room before turning to face us.

"Sam, we have to talk to you," Dean and I said at the same time as Sam said, "Guys, I've got to talk to you,"

"Meg is the one doing it," Sam went on, not bothering to dwell on how weird our synchronized greeting was. "I saw it. She's got all this weird stuff set up on a table in this abandoned building. And it's not just that there was this bowl and she was talking into it. Like communicating with someone," Dean began pacing as he took in the information.

"So, hot, little Meg is summoning the Daeva?" He checked, his tone holding anger.

"It looks like she was using that black altar to control the thing," He explained.

"So Sammy's got a thing for the bad girl," Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's teasing.

"What was the thing about the bowl again?" I questioned Sam, ignoring Dean's quip, and Sam turned his troubled eyes on me.

"She was talking into it - the way witches used to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone," He repeated his words from earlier slower now, so they could sink in.

"With the Daeva?" Dean asked, but I shook my head, knowing it wasn't.

"No, the Daeva would be too savage to communicate. It would just take orders from her," I reasoned, glancing at Sammy.

"You're right. This was someone different. Someone who's giving her orders, someone who's coming to that warehouse," Dean frowned, his gaze moving to me, and suddenly, I understood where his mind was going. I crossed the room in three steps to lean next to him as he sat beside the files, one hand on the desk the other on his shoulder.

"Holy crap," He muttered, looking up at Sam, and my eyes were wide. It couldn't be. After all this time…

"What?" Sam asked.

"What we were going to tell you earlier," I began, swallowing hard. "I… I asked the guy at the police station, Mike, to give me the complete files on the two victims,"

"We missed something the first time," Dean took over as my eyes kept flicking from one birthplace to the other and back, hoping that they'd change.

"What?" Sam came over to stand next to us.

"The first victim - the banker? He was raised and lived in Chicago," I tilted the banker's records, so Sammy could see it better. "But look where he was born,"

"Lawrence, Kansas," Sam read, trying to make sense of it.

"Meredith - the second victim? It turns out she was adopted," Dean showed Sam Meredith's file. "And guess where she's from?"

"Holy crap," Sam muttered, sinking into the chair opposite Dean as I straightened, my eyes still wide. "I mean, that is where the demon killed our moms. That's where everything started. So you think Meg's tied up with the demon?"

"Well, it's not that crazy a guess," I answered numbly. After twenty-two years of searching, we were the closest we've ever been to the thing that killed our moms and Jess.

"But, I don't understand, what's the significance of Lawrence? And how do these Daeva things fit in?" Sam asked questions that none of us could answer.

"I say we trash that black alter, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation," Dean suggested.

"I'm not sure it's that easy," I was hesitant to go along with Dean's plan. Something in my gut told me this was bigger than the three of us. A lot bigger.

"She's right. We can't tip her off. We've got to stake out that warehouse. We got to see who… or what is showing up to meet her," Sam disagreed with Dean, and I felt better about his plan, though I was still uneasy.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," I looked at Dean as he spoke. "I don't think we should do this alone," Dean went a little ways off to dial John, and I hoped he'd come this time. Sam and I went out to the car to collect the weapons we would use against Meg or the demonic pit bull she was controlling.

"Sam, was Meg right?" I asked softly, so Dean wouldn't hear. I could feel Sam's eyes on me, but I didn't look at him. "Are Dean and I flaunting our relationship?" I grabbed a revolver and placed it carefully into the black duffel in Sam's hands before grabbing another one and doing the same.

"No, Mel, I'm happy for you two," I frowned slightly as I picked up on the note of hesitance and tightness in his voice as he spoke. "I said those things a month and a half ago to a girl that, at the time, I was sure I'd never see again. We were fighting, remember? I was mad," He shrugged it off as if it were nothing.

"If there's something wrong, you know you can tell me, right? You can tell me anything," Sam smiled at my words, but there was something in his smile that was off. Something fake about it. "Have you told Dean?" Now it was my turn to be confused. "About my vision… the rest of it," I looked away from him as I decided to just grab as much as we could and shove it into bags.

"No," I answered, sighing. "I don't know. It doesn't matter really, right? I mean, it didn't happen, so…" I shrugged nonchalantly as Sam zipped the bags and threw them over his shoulder.

"You're going to have to face it sometime," We reached the door, and Sam opened it for me.

"So, uh, this warehouse - it's 1435 West Erie," Dean was saying as he sat on the couch with the phone. I walked over to sit next to Dean on the couch, and he offered me a strained smile as I laced my fingers through his, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can," He snapped the phone shut and pressed it against his lips.

"Voice mail?" Sam questioned, dropping the bags on the bed with a loud thud.

"Yeah," Dean answered, bitterness lining his voice before he stood, pulling me up with him. "Geez, what did you two get?" Sam massaged his shoulder as he glanced at his brother.

"It'd be faster to tell you what we didn't get," Sam chuckled at the truth of my statement. "We got holy water, every weapon in there, exorcism books from about a dozen religions," I listed as Dean released my hand and started going through the bags.

"We're not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything, huh?" Sam reasoned, and it was hard to argue with his logic. I grabbed a gun from the bag, checking to make sure it was loaded as Sam tossed Dean some ammo.

"It's a big night," Dean commented, setting down the gun as I cocked mine, making sure it wasn't jammed before putting the safety on.

"Yeah," I agreed, setting down the gun and picking up another to distract myself from the questing that was running through my mind. What would happen if we killed the demon that killed our mothers? The reason John was hunting… the reason we were hunting was to kill that thing. Well, what happened when it was dead?

"You nervous?" Sam asked, glancing from me to Dean and back.

"No. No," Dean lied, and I hid a smile, looking down but shaking my head in answer to Sam's question.

"You are?" I turned the question on him, making him scoff.

"No. No way," He lied, and I smiled slightly again. I cocked the gun in my hands before putting it back into the pile of the guns I'd checked already and picking up another. "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing, that demon?" No. I couldn't. And that's what terrified me. I glanced at Dean out of the corner of my eye.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Sammy," I responded tightly, jamming the ammo into my gun a bit too forcefully. "It still has to show up,"

"I know. I'm just saying… what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight?" I glanced at Dean fully now and felt the rush of emotion go through me before I turned back to Sam, throwing the gun into my pile and picking another. "Guys, I'd sleep for a month. Go back to school, just be a person again," My eyes snapped to Sam as he said that, and my hands froze.

"You want to go back to school?" Dean questioned, and my eyes flicked from him to Sam.

"Yeah, once we're done hunting the thing," Sam looked at the two of us before frowning. "Why? Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," I answered for Dean. "There's nothing wrong with that. It's great," I offered Sam a strained, sad smile.

"Yeah, good for you," Dean added tightly, cocking the gun roughly, and not looking up at either of us.

"I mean, what are you guys going to do when it's over?" Sam asked, glancing from Dean to me.

"It's never going to be over. There's gonna be others," Dean replied, his eyes darting to me for a split second and then back to Sam. "There's always gonna be something to hunt," Sam's brow furrowed, as if that thought hadn't even occurred to him.

"What about you, Mel?" I hesitated for a moment, glancing at both boys, but Sam was the only one who met my eyes.

"Maybe take some time off. Travel cross country. See the grand canyon. You know, we've been everywhere but we've never seen the grand canyon," I spoke earnestly. "Then, I don't know," I shrugged, holding up the gun in my hands. "This. I'm good at this," My eyes flicked to Dean, who was looking down at the gun in his hands but had stopped working on it.

"But there's got to be something you that you want for yourselves," Sam sounded confused.

"Yeah, I don't want you both to leave the second this is over," Dean snapped, and my eyes widened slightly in shock as he turned to face the drawers. He may as well have slapped me across the face.

"Dean, I didn't say I was-" I started, taking a step towards him.

"Well you may as well have!" He interrupted me angrily. "You want to travel?"

"Yeah! I do! Is that really so bad?" My voice rose as I became irritated that he would just jump to conclusions. "I just want a break!" I yelled, which was true.

"Then why don't you just leave now!" I jerked back at his shout, my whole body shaking with all the emotion coursing through my veins as we just stared at each other for what seemed like decades but was only a few seconds. Finally, I spun on my heel and grabbed the bag that we'd already filled, slipping it onto my shoulder.

"I'm going to put these in the car," I muttered, not even bothering to look at Sam or Dean as I stalked out of the room. I dumped the bag into the trunk, resting my hands on the edge of the car and hanging my head. I couldn't loose Dean. I couldn't.

-3rd person-

"Dude, what's your problem?" Sam asked his brother, his voice tight with worry and anger as he heard the door shut behind Mel. Dean and Mel had their fights like any couple but not like that. Sam hadn't seen Dean that furious at her since… since his freshman year when Dean and Mel had been seniors and they'd broken up.

"Why do you think we drag you everywhere, huh?" Sam understood that his brother didn't want to talk about Mel. "Why do you think we came and got you at Stanford in the first place?"

"'Cause Dad was in trouble," Sam answered, frowning in confusion as Dean turned to face him, and Sam was shocked at how broken and tired Dean looked. "'Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed mom," Dean turned away again. He was going to loose everybody. He'd thought… when all this was over… he'd thought that maybe… but she was going to leave. She was join to leave him, and he was going to be alone.

"Yes, that, but it's more than that, man…" Dean looked at the door that Mel had walked out of with a look of longing that made Sam feel like he was a freshman in high school again. "You, Mel, me, and Dad… I want us to be together again," Dean finally faced his brother with bright eyes. "I want us to be a family again,"

"Dean," Sam began softly, "We are a family. I'd do anything for you or Mel. But things will never be the way they were before," Dean glanced back at the door and then Sam.

"They could be," He tried with a sad smile. They could be just like before. His family together.

"I don't want them to be," Sam shook his head. "I'm not going to live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way," Dean just walked out of the room, not being able to stand looking at his kid brother any longer. He had gone two steps when he saw Mel leaning against the backdoor of the Impala with her arms wrapped around herself. She looked up as she heard him coming, and he could read the hurt as well as the anger and fear in her eyes as she pushed off the car.

"We're going?" She questioned, turning away from him towards the passenger's door, but he caught her arm, spinning her to face him.

"What did you mean - travel?" He asked her, gazing into her eyes. It wasn't until now that he really understood how deeply he loved the woman in front of him. If she had told him she wanted a normal life, with kids, a house in the suburbs, nothing special, he would've agreed in a heartbeat.

"We go so many places, Dean, but we never really see anything," She shrugged as if it weren't that important. "I don't know. I just thought maybe we should see some of the sights,"

"We?" He repeated, and he couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips as she smiled.

"Of course we," She answered, her smile widening. "And then, after that, we'll go back to saving people and hunting things," Dean lowered his lips to hers, wrapping his arms around her waist, and she responded by slipping her arms around his neck, one hand going up to tangle in his hair.

-1st-

"So the thing doesn't care who it's getting, just anybody who's on the stage near electricity of any kind?" I checked, and Dean nodded from where he was sitting next to me. Now all we had to do was find out how to kill it.

"They just finished the reconstruction two and a half weeks ago. When was the first killing?" Maxwell questioned from across from me. We were sitting at a four seater library table doing research while John and Jack were off questioning the police about the deaths.

"Two weeks ago," I answered, looking up, interested. "Three days after the opening. Anything on deaths in the area?" I glanced at Sammy as I asked the question.

"Not much. One guy back in the 60s disappeared, Chester Bering. He was a director working at the old theater, but they never found him," Sam looked up at us, and I bit my lip, thinking it over.

"He could've been murdered," Dean suggested, taking the article from Sammy and scanning it briefly while I read over his shoulder. "There," He pointed, drawing my attention to the fourth paragraph. "Producer Kate Mose, leading actor and actress Rodriguez Fernando and Stephanie Delmont,and assistant director Marco Vince were all working closely with him to make this play come to life," He read off the page. "Let's find them," Dean drove while I road shotgun with Sam and Max siting in the back. I called John while we drove to check in and tell him where we were headed. We drove to the nearest address, which was the producer, Kate Mose. Dean parked in front of her house and we all got out before I realized we didn't have a plan. "Sam, you stay with the car," Dean threw over his shoulder at the fourteen-year-old.

"What? Why?" Sam whined, and I turned back with an apologetic look in my eye.

"Us three can pass as interns for the local paper. You're too young," I explained, honestly sorry that he had to sit this one out. Sammy looked at each of us in turn, hoping for help.

"Sorry, kid," Max offered him, shrugging before turning back to the house. The three of us ascended the porch steps, and Dean rang the doorbell.

"You've done this before, right?" I glanced at Max as I questioned him, and he just sent me a mischievous grin.

"You worried about me, love?" I rolled my eyes at him as Dean glared.

"She just wanted to make sure you wouldn't screw us up too much," Dean told him with a threatening undertone to his voice.

"Oh, well, I'll try not to," He replied to Dean but winked at me, making me grab Dean's fisted hand to stop him from attacking the kid.

"Just follow my lead," I tried to be as curt as possible, but Max just grinned.

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Before Dean could respond to that comment, the door swung opened to reveal an elder, pleasant looking woman, who smiled warmly at us.

"Hello, Ms. Mose?" I questioned, giving her a winning smile.

"Mrs. Fields now, but yes, I was once Ms. Mose," Her smile faltered slightly as she spoke those words.

"We're interns for Pontiac News," Yes, their newspaper was actually called Pontiac News. "We're doing a piece about the opening of the theater in town, and we're wondering if we could interview you,"

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm not quite up to that just now," She glanced back in the house and then at us nervously.

"It would only take a moment. Please," I begged her. "It isn't exactly easy being the intern. We need a piece, and we could really use your help," She hesitated for a moment more before opening the door wider.

"Only a few minutes, no more," The three of us nodded in agreement, and she sighed as she let us in. We followed her to the couch where I sat in the middle of Dean and Max with Dean's arm around my waist. She took a seat in the armchair across from us.

"You worked at the theater in the late 60s, right?" Max spoke up first, and she turned to him, nodding.

"Yes, I was a producer," She answered, looking at the three of us uncertainly.

"Did you know a man named Chester Bering?" I asked her, and she seemed to go three shades paler, her hands shaking.

"What does he have to do with any of this?" She asked, frowning. "I thought you were doing the paper on the grand opening,"

"There's a couple paragraphs on the history of the place," Dean covered for me. "DId you know Chester?"

"No, I didn't know him," She responded, making me frown.

"You worked as a producer to a show that he was directing. You must've known him?" Max frowned in false confusion, and I could see written in his face that he'd made his verdict already.

"I… Well, yes, I mean, of course I worked with him, but beyond that…" She trailed off helplessly, shrugging.

"Was he nice? Easy to work with?" I questioned, and her eyes flicked away before back again.

"Yes, very," She smiled at us.

"That's interesting because before we came here, we went to Stephanie's house. You remember her, right? You worked with her. She was the leading actress. She told us that you argued almost every day," Dean frowned in false confusion, and I hid a smile at his acting.

"Why don't you tell us what really happened?" I pressed, knowing it was risky.

"Who are you?" She rose from the chair, and we rose with her.

"We don't work for the paper," I shut my eyes in annoyance that Max would say something like that.

"Get out of my house," She spoke the words softly but firmly, and Max took a step forward.

"Just listen-" He began.

"Get out!" She snapped furiously at us. "Now!" She yelled over Max's protests.

"Wait!" I cried loud enough to silence everybody. "He's right. We don't work for the paper, but we can help," I spoke slowly, but hurried on as the woman opened her mouth again. "Those deaths… the ones at the new theater. The electrocutions. We can stop it, but we need to know what happened,"

"I don't know what you're talking about," She spoke in a hoarse whisper, sinking back into the chair.

"I think you do. And you need to tell us, so we can stop the killing," She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head.

"He was so bitter. He was always so bitter. That's what got him killed. It wasn't me. It was his fault," She shook her head again, her eyes distant.

"Mrs. Fields," I sat again with Dean and Max as Dean spoke. "How do you know he was killed? He was never found," A tear trailed down the old woman's cheek, making me feel guilty for putting her through this.

"It was October 16th. The play was supposed to open three days later, and we had a minor wardrobe mixup. Stephanie was supposed to wear a green dress in the last scene, but the company got it wrong and sent black instead. We could either let her go on in the pink one she wore at the beginning or the black one they'd sent. After rehearsal, we were still arguing over the dress color, and Stephanie came over to help us decide and of course, Marco was there. Marco was such a sweet boy, like a shadow to Chester. Rodriguez came towards the end. He'd been running lines backstage, but we'd been yelling so loud he couldn't concentrate.

"I-I don't know what came over me, but he just made me so angry. I grabbed him by the collar and shook him. Rodriguez and Marco pulled me off of him, but when they did, one of them, to this day I'm not sure which, pushed Chester backwards. He t-tripped, and Stephanie tried to grab his arm to stop him falling. She ended up just making him fall closer to her, right into the puddle of water that was on stage. One of the electricians had been working on the lighting for opening night… one of the lights dropped," She shook her head as she trailed off, another tear making it's way down her face. "I can still hear his screams,"


Dean Sam and I climbed through the elevator shaft until we got to the top floor where we could just see Meg leaning over the table. Sam was right. This had creepy demon summoner written all over it. Sam shifted to the right towards the opening, silently climbing out as Meg began speaking latin in a low tone to the table filled with dark things. Sam reached out his hand, and I took it eagerly. He helped me out of the elevator shaft before we turned to get Dean out next to us. Sam rose slowly, pointing his pistol at Meg's back as Dean and I hurried off down the small to the stacks of boxes and wood that were there. I chose a column a bit farther back to hide behind in case she fought back, Dean got behind the wall, and Sam got behind the wood, taking the shotgun and pointing it at Meg.

"Guys. Hiding is little bit childish, don't you think?" She knew we were here. If she knew we were here, then it was a trap.

"Well, that didn't work out like I'd planned," Dean muttered as he met my eyes. She turned slightly to face us, and a shiver ran through me.

"Why don't you come out?" She questioned coyly. I kept my pistol trained on her as I stood slowly, not sure what to expect from her arrogant posture as she walked towards us. "Sam, I have to say, this puts a real crimp in our relationship,"

"Yeah, tell me about it," He replied, playing her game while I seized her up from where I was between Sam and Dean.

"Where's the Daeva?" I asked, getting to the point of our surprise visit.

"Around," She answered cryptically, turning her eyes from Sam with reluctance. "And that gun or those shotguns aren't going to do much good," Her eyes dropped to the gun in my hands.

"Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The shotgun's not for the demon," Dean told her with a grin at the thought of killing this bitch.

"So, who is it, Meg? Who's coming? Who are you waiting for?" Sam questioned, and Meg glanced around before returning her eyes to Sam.

"Us," I answered before she could, and both boys glanced at me. "She was waiting for us,"

"Very good," Meg mocked, clapping.

"But why?" I frowned in confusion, and that's when I heard the slight whooshing sound, like wind through an open window. I turned to look at the wall that seemed to be the source of the noise, and my eyes widened. "Sam!" I screamed just as the beast descended on him, slashing him and knocking him to the floor. It all happened so fast, I could barely lift the gun in my hands before it was on me too. I never felt it attack me; I just felt the stinging pain afterwards as I was thrown into the wall and then the darkness.

"Mel," I blinked. Someone was calling my name. He sounded worried. For a moment, I was disoriented, and then everything came rushing back making my head jerk up, which sent a knife of pain through my body. My eyes focused on Dean's relieved face before traveling to Sam's.

"Sammy," I breathed out in a slight laugh that turned into a groan, the thing had clawed me across the face. "Don't take offense, but your girlfriend's a bitch," I looked back at Dean, and he shifted his head so the light caught the blood that was running down his face. My eyes snapped back to see Sam's face was in the same condition. White-hot fury coursed through my veins like fire, and I could see it reflected in Dean and Sam's eyes before I mine to glare at Meg.

"This, the whole thing, was a trap," Sam shook his head as he spoke furiously. "Running into you at the bar, following you here, hearing what you had to say - it was all a set up, wasn't it?" Meg just laughed carelessly at Sam's words. "And that the victims were from Lawrence," He prompted, and she shrugged.

"It doesn't mean anything. It was just to draw you in, that's all," I struggled against my bonds as my rage grew when she said that.

"They were two innocent people. And you killed them," I spat at her, and she turned to me with a cold grin.

"Honey, I've killed a lot more for a lot less," She folded her hands over her chest, gloating at how she captured us.

"You trapped us. Good for you. It's Miller time. Why don't you kill us already?" He asked the question I was wondering as I fidgeted with my sleeve of my jacket, trying to get my hand to the knife that was shoved up it. Meg sat on a chair and crossed her legs as she looked at us like we were meat.

"Not very quick on the uptake, are we?" I frowned at her condescending tone. "This trap isn't for you," My eyes widened as I realized what this meant.

"Dad," Sam muttered just as I muttered, "John," I met his eyes and saw the horror there. "It's a trap for Dad," Dean's eyes widened fractionally before he turned to face Meg again with a grin.

"Oh, sweetheart, you're dumber than you look. 'Cause even if Dad was in town, which he is not, he wouldn't walk into something like this. He's too good," I prayed that Dean's confident words were true.

"He is pretty good. I'll give you that," She conceded as she rose from the chair and went over to Dean. My fingers wrapped around the cool blade and I pulled it out, glancing at Sam to see if he'd gotten his. "But you see…" Meg continued, and I fought down the fury and fear that battled inside me as squatted in front of Dean. "…He has one weakness," She fixed his jacket as she spoke.

"What's that?" Dean asked with a grin.

"You," She answered simply, glancing back at Sam and then at me. "He let's his guard down around his children… of course, you aren't really his child, but we all know John cares about you like you were. Around you three, he lets his emotions cloud his judgement," She leaned forward as she spoke her next words. "I happen to know he is in town, and he'll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody - nice and slow… and messy," She smiled in delight as she turned to me, and her words sent a chill up my spine.

"What do you want?" I asked, and she rose and walked over to me. "What are you getting out of this?"

"Melody, Melody," She shook her head as if I was some naughty child. "You know, this trap should be for your dad too, but he went and got himself killed," She pursed her lips as I jerked against the restraints. "Now who's fault was that?" The pursed lips faded into a cruel smile. "Oh, that's right, yours. And now, you'll get your other father killed as well," She frowned in fake empathy as fear jolted through me.

"Hey, bitch, I got news for you," She turned back towards Dean as he talked. "It's gonna take a lot more than some… shadow to kill him," Dean told her, hoping he was right.

"Oh, the Daevas are in the room here. They're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see," I gripped the knife tighter, but didn't cut through my bonds yet.

"What are you getting? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh… and with who?" Her face flickered for a moment, the smug expression disappearing.

"I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do - loyalty, love," Sam rolled his eyes, and she rose. "Like the loyalty you had for mommy… and Jess,"

"Go to hell," Sam glared at her, and she just grinned cockily.

"Baby, I'm already there," She got off of me and crawled over to Sam slowly. "Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty," She reached him and leaned her head by his ear. "I think we both know… how you really feel about me," I scoffed and debated flicking out my knife but didn't for fear of her hearing. "You know… I saw you… watching me… changing in my apartment," Sam looked past her at me, and I hated how helpless I felt. "It turned you on, didn't it?"

"Get a room, you two," Dean groaned, looking away from them and at me. The look of dark anger that came over his face as his eyes fell on me was enough to tell me how bad my face must look. I could feel the hot stickiness of the blood that was drying on the right side of my jaw and neck, and when I talked, it sent a stabbing pain up my cheek, making me choose to save my breath. "I didn't mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I could still have a little dirty fun,"

"You want to have fun? Go ahead, then," My eyes flicked to Sam , frowning in confusion. "I'm a little tied up right now," Despite everything, my mouth twitched at Sam's joke. She just ignored him, her mouth going to his neck and then his ear again.

"I know about how you really feel…" She whispered low enough for Dean not to hear, and I had to strain to pick up the words. I stopped listening to the few words she whispered after that. I didn't want to hear her try to sweet talk Sam; it was gross. That's when I heard an audible click, Dean had flipped his knife out, but, unfortunately, Meg had heard it too. Her head snapped up to look at Dean, and she got off of Sam. I couldn't wait any longer, and I used both my hands to slowly open the knife without a noise. She didn't notice as she walked towards Dean, and I started untying myself hurriedly. She took the knife from his hands and tossed it away from them where it clattered to the floor before she crawled back to Sam.

"Now, were you just trying to distract me while your brother cuts free," My bonds were almost cut through.

"No," I called to them, and she turned to look at me inquiringly. "It was because Dean wasn't the only one with a knife," She gasped, whipping her head around to look at Sam just as he grabbed her shoulders and smashed his head into hers. My ropes snapped as Sam moaned in pain, clutching his head, and I scrambled up.

"Guys, the altar!" Dean yelled just as I reached the table, and, grabbing the edge tightly, I flipped it over, spilling the contents all over the floor with a loud crash. Meg screamed as the Daevas grabbed her and dragged her across the floor, throwing her out the window. I moved over to Sam and Dean and cut Dean's bonds as Sam was still in pain from the head butt he'd given Meg. We helped him up and hurried to the shattered window, looking down at the lifeless form of Meg Masters.

"So I guess the Daevas didn't like being bossed around," Sam mused, his eyes still on Meg.

"Yeah, looks like," I agreed with a small grin.

"Hey, Sam? Next time you want to get laid, find a girl that's not so buckets of crazy, huh?" Sam rolled his eyes and headed back to the elevator shaft. "Hey, are you alright?" Dean's bravado dropped and real concern was woven in his voice as turned my face gently. "That looks nasty,"

"Yeah, it doesn't feel to great either," I smiled as I spoke with a slight laugh, glancing back down at Meg's body. "Let's just get back to the motel. I need a shower,"

"That sounds like a great idea," Dean grinned, making me laugh again and reach up to kiss him lightly before we headed back to the elevator. I rode in the back with Sam during the ten minute car ride back to the motel, trying to clean out his cuts using the first aid kit I kept. I only managed to help a little before we arrived at the motel, and I insisted on bringing the bag of weapons into our room.

"Why don't you just leave that stuff in the car?" Dean questioned as we reached our room, and he fished for the room key in his jacket pocket.

"Look, it's better safe than sorry, right? Besides, I have a feeling…" Suddenly, I grabbed Dean's arm before he could open the door, hearing the slight creak of wood from inside. "Someone's inside," Dean grabbed two guns from Sam's bag and handed me one of them, which I cocked before he pushed the door open. A dark figure was standing by the window, and, somehow I didn't think I'd need the weapon.

"Hey!" Dean called to him, pointing the gun as Sam flicked on the lights. Slowly, he turned, and my breath caught. "Dad," Dean whispered, lowering the gun as I flicked the safety on and dropped it on the bed.

"Hey," He greeted, fixing each of us with his shining eyes. He took a step forward, smiling, and I threw myself at him, hugging him tightly while he chuckled and hugged me back. I released him, stepping back as Dean hugged him tightly before standing next to me, one arm around my waist. Sam came forward slowly as the two regarded each other. "Hi, Sam,"

"Hey, Dad," Was Sam's only greeting.

"Dad, it was a trap. I didn't know. I'm sorry," I laced my fingers through Dean's hand that was on my waist as he apologized to John, who only nodded.

"It's all right. I thought it might have been," His eyes dropped to Dean's hand around my waist, and he smiled at us, making me smile back in relief. We'd just got his blessing… for the second time.

"Were you at the warehouse?" I asked him softly.

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive," He told us, and I smiled slightly. "She was the bad guy, right?"

"Yes, sir," The three of us answered at the same time, and John smiled again, looking down at his hands.

"Good. Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before," That caught Sam's attention.

"The demon has?" He asked, eager to know if John was getting close.

"It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell, actually kill it," John told us, and I frowned at the information.

"Is that possible?" I questioned at the same time Dean asked, "How?"

"I'm working on that," John gave us a smile that let me know he wouldn't share anything more for our own safety.

"Well, let us come with you. We'll help," Sam asked, but I knew that that wasn't going to happen. John shook his head, looking down before back up at his son.

"No, Sam. Not yet. Listen, try to understand," He begged his son, knowing that Sam could get a bit hotheaded at times. "This demon is a scary son of a bitch. I don't want you caught in the crossfire. I don't want you hurt,"

"Dad, you don't have to worry about us," Sam insisted, eager to get close to the thing that killed Jess.

"Of course I do," John turned his gaze on Dean and I. "I'm your father," He hesitated a moment before looking back at Sam. "Listen, Sammy, the last time we were together, we had one hell of a fight," I winced slightly, remembering the day Sammy had left for college.

"Yes, sir," Sam agreed, and John nodded.

"It's good to see you again," He smiled, and Sam returned it with eyes shining with unshed tears. "It's been a long time,"

"Too long," Sam sniffled slightly as John came forward to hug his son, and I smiled, knowing they'd finally made up. How long it would last, I wasn't quite sure, but for now, they'd made up. Finally, John stepped away and looked at all of us with a pride in his eyes that made warmth for the man who'd been my father for eight years bubble in my stomach. Suddenly, John flew back and hit the cabinets with a yell of surprise, and Sam was scratched across the face, knocking him to the floor.

"No!" Dean shouted as I was ripped from his arms and thrown into a bookshelf, feeling the stabbing pain of the creatures claws down my arm. All I could hear was John's screams as the creature pinned him to the oven and began slashing at him. I hauled myself to my hands and knees, ignoring the pain and tried to crawl over to John only to be knocked on my side again. Agony tore through my leg as I felt claws digging into my calf and drag me backwards.

"Cover your eyes!" I heard Sam yell and obeyed without thinking. "These things are shadow demons, so let's light 'em up!" A blinding white light lit up the room, and I felt the claws disappear from my calf, leaving only the pain behind. The room filled with smoke, making my body shake with coughs.

"Dad! Mel!" I heard Dean yell as I got myself to my feet, bracing myself against the table that was next to me. I could barely open my eyes through the dust and the light, and I had to cover them with my hands.

"I'm fine. Get John," I managed to get out between coughs.

"Over here!" I heard John's voice shout from where the Daeva had been shredding him.

"Sam, get Dad!" Dean barked the order, and I felt hands around my waist, pulling me towards the door. It didn't take long for Dean to figure out I couldn't put pressure on my right leg, and he slipped an arm around my waist while mine went over his shoulders. We stumbled into the hallway and out the door of the motel, still coughing and almost blind. It got better when we got out of the building, and we made it to the Impala without trouble.

"All right, come on. We don't have much time. As soon as the flare's out they'll be back," Sam told us, throwing the bag he'd saved into the back of the car.

"Wait, wait," I held up a hand to stop him talking, knowing the sad truth. "John, you can't come," I met his sorrowful, dark eyes and knew that he already knew he couldn't.

"What?" Sam asked, his gaze snapping to me incredulously.

"She's right," Dean backed me, glancing at John. "He can't come with us, Sammy,"

"What?" He looked between the three of us, and I just looked down. "What are you talking about?" There was nothing I wanted more than for John to come back with us. So we could be a family again, but I knew it was too risky.

"You three - you're beat to hell," John started in concern, taking in our tired, bloody faces before his gaze dropped to my blood-soaked leg.

"We'll be okay," I insisted, still panting slightly but managed a smile.

"Guys, we should stick together! We'll go after those -" Sam began arguing heatedly, gesturing to the dying glow of the building.

"Sam, listen to me!" Dean snapped, cutting off his brother. "We almost got Dad killed in there. Don't you understand? They're not gonna stop. They're gonna try again. They're gonna use us to get to him. I mean, Meg was right. Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He… He's stronger without us around,"

"Mel," Sam looked to me for help, but I just shook my head.

"He's right, Sammy. I'm sorry," I looked past him at John and saw the sorrow in his eyes.

"Dad," He turned to John, his eyes pleading with him. "No," He put an arm on John's shoulder, looking into his eyes. "After everything, after all the time we spent looking for you, please. I got to be a part of this fight,"

"Sammy, this fight is just starting," John told him, putting a gentle hand on his wrist. "And we are all gonna have a part to play. For now, you've got to trust me, son. Okay? You've got to let me go," I felt tears prick at my eyes, but I pushed them back, leaning on Dean's shoulder, the hand that wasn't around his shoulders came up to fist in his jacket as his arm tightened around my waist in response. Finally, Sam nodded, his hand sliding off of John's shoulder. John walked past us to stop at his car and then turn back. "Be careful," His eyes dropped to me, and he smiled again. "You take care of them, Mel," I just offered him a sad smile.

"I will," I promised, and he got in and drove away. I felt Dean's forehead in my hair before he pressed his lips against the top of my head.

"Come on," He helped me to the car, opening the door for the backseat as Sam slid into the back on the other side. "You're sure you're alright?" Dean asked, his green eyes growing worried as they dropped to the bloody gash in my calf.

"Yeah, just… get us out of here," That was all I wanted at the moment. To get as far away from here as possible. Dean pressed his lips to mine briefly, not caring that we were beat up, not caring that we were bloody, not caring about anything.

"Alright," He agreed when he'd pulled away.

"I love you," I whispered softly, looking up at his tired, torn face.

"I love you too," He kissed me gently once more before getting into the driver's seat and gunning the engine. He backed up until we were on the main road before putting the Impala in drive and hitting the gas. Sam gingerly took my foot and set it on his lap before cutting away my jeans at the knees. Pity, I'd liked these jeans, too. I hissed in pain as he ran an alcohol wipe over my wound before beginning to bandage it to stop the bleeding. I rested my back against the door and let the hum of the engine lull me to sleep.

"I just didn't think someone so beautiful could kick ass," Max tried to recover as we walked away from the janitor I'd knocked out and Dean and Max had dragged outside into the abandoned parking lot. This had been going on for the past week.

"I'll kick your ass if you're not careful," I'd passed the annoyed stage, and now I didn't mind him as much. I knew Dean hated him, which made me like him less, but other than the constant flirting, he wasn't so bad. Of course, the constant flirting was annoying to no end. We'd figured out the man was haphazardly buried under the theater, and his bones had probably turned to dust already due to the worms and rats that had probably eaten away at his skin, making him decay faster.

"I'm already going to kick his ass," Dean muttered low enough for me to hear but not Max, making me suppress a snicker. The only reason Dean hadn't started a fight with Max already was the fact that his dad's friend was John's friend. The past week, Dean had been growing more and more annoyed with him, and I was starting to worry that he would punch him or do something equally stupid. "Here," Dean spoke louder so Max could hear. We stopped in the fifth row of the theater; our job was to begin burning the chairs and, hopefully the ghost would come out. We had to burn down the whole theater that way the ghost doesn't have anything to haunt. Luckily, the theater only consisted of two auditoriums, meaning Sammy, John, and Max's dad would get the other auditorium. After we set the fire, we needed to get out as quickly as possible. Dean started pouring the gasoline over the rows while I salted. We did four rows before Max lit the match, and we stood back, watching the chairs burn. Nothing happened.

"Maybe we should get closer," Max suggested, and I eyed the chairs in front of us warily. He started forward and was stopped by Dean's arm across his chest.

"Dad said we should stay at least two rows back," Dean told him, knowing that the stage would end up catching fire.

"You always do what your daddy says?" Max mocked, throwing me a wink, and I almost felt Dean snap. He snatched the salt from me and pushed past Max.

"Dean, what're you doing?" I took a step forward just as he jumped onto the stage. The whole room seemed to shake, throwing me into one of the chairs of the second row that hadn't yet caught fire. My eyes widened as I saw a forty year old, ghostly pale man flicker into view behind Dean, who dumped the gasoline on the stage and lit it up with the matches that were in his pocket. The spirit screamed, and the theater shook, seeming to crackle with electricity.

"Come on! We have to get out of here!" Max shouted over the roar, and I ignored him, starting towards the stage only to feel a restraining arm wrap around my waist. There was a deafening crash as part of the ceiling fell, crushing the chairs it landed on. My eyes found Dean, still on the stage, slowly backing away from the pissed off spirit that was screaming. Without thinking, I whirled and slammed my fist into Max's face, making him swear and release me. I sprinted towards the stage, looking up just in time to see the horizontal pole that held the lights loosen and fall.

"Dean!" I threw myself into him, making us both fall to the floor. One second earlier, and we would've both got out without a scratch, but we didn't. I was one second too late and the crushing pain in my elbow made me scream and curl into it, tears coming down my cheeks at the sudden agony.

"Mel!" I ground my teeth together and forced myself to stop screaming as Dean yelled my name. He cradled my head between his hands before looking at my pinned elbow, his face going pale. "Shit," His eyes flicked to my face and then back at my wrist. "Hang on. You're going to be fine," He grunted as he tried to move the pole, but it didn't budge. I tried to help him as best I could, but there was really nothing I could do. It was too heavy. "Max," He turned to face the rows of chairs empty except for the growing fire. "Damn it," He growled, turning back. "I'm going to kill him,"

"Black," My head whipped forward to see the ghostly man flickering before us, looking confused. "Make it black," His feet were beginning to burn, and he let out a final scream as he went up in flames. The far side of the stage was still on fire, and the auditorium was coming down around us.

"Dean, you have to get out of here," I caught his wrist that was still on the beam, trying to move it even though we both knew he couldn't. "Please, go,"

"I'm not leaving you," He snapped as if that wasn't even a possibility.

"You have to," I insisted, realizing that the only thing I cared about right now was that Dean was okay. "You'll be killed if you stay here," There was another loud crash as part of the stage came down a yard from us.

"We're getting out of this. I promise," He swore, and I saw the small tear that made it's way down his cheek.

"Dean-" I started gently.

"I shouldn't have been on the stage," He looked at me, another tear rolling down his cheek, but he didn't bother brushing it away. "It was stupid. I shouldn't have let Max get to me," Dean gave up on the beam and was now laying on his stomach next to me, one elbow on the other side of my head, his body shielding me from the falling rubble.

"Dean, please-" He cut me off, pressing his lips to mine.

"I'm not leaving," He stated firmly.

"Well, that's touching," I frowned at the new, British voice that entered our conversation. "But I'd really like to get out of here," Relief coursed through my body. I'd never been happier to see a douchebag in my entire life.

-3rd-

Dean and Max managed to get the beam off of Mel, but only by rolling it off, making her scream in agony. Her screams felt like daggers to Dean's heart as he and Max finally got it off. Her legs shook as she stood painfully, and they ran out of the theater and back to the cars where John, Sam, and Jack were waiting. John rushed forward as he saw them and grabbed Dean's shoulders, shaking his son slightly.

"What happened?" Dean swallowed and looked at Mel, who was growing paler by the second.

"Mel needs to go to the hospital," John turned his gaze on the girl that was almost his daughter, his eyes widening as they dropped to her twisted arm.

"Get in the car," Mel didn't argue as she slid into the backseat, cradling her arm. John regarded his shaken son, and all he said was, "You can explain what happened on the ride," He turned and got in. Dean was about to follow when he a voice behind him stop him.

"How did you know I'd come back?" Dean half turned to see Max's curious face.

"I didn't," Dean answered, shrugging, turning back to the car.

"But you would've died, if you didn't leave her,"

"I'll never leave her," Dean got into the Impala to take Mel to the hospital.

-Still 3rd-

Sam looked Mel, who was asleep against the window, her face peaceful, and he felt a familiar twisting in his stomach. His eyes flicked up to where Dean was driving. I know how you feel… about her. She's never going to feel the same way. You're just the little brother, Sammy. He was suddenly very aware of the weight of her legs on his lap. He glanced down at the white bandage that was now wrapped around her calf.

"She's alright?" Dean questioned, and Sam could hear the concern in his brother's voice as he snapped out of his thoughts.

"What? Yeah. She'll be fine. She's sleeping," Sam told him, and Dean seemed satisfied with the answer.

"You okay?" Dean frowned as he saw his brother's expression.

"Yeah, fine," Sam turned his gaze out his window, for the first time in a long time, he wished he could go back to being that twelve year old kid whose older brother and best friend took care of him. Back before things got confusing.