Sunshine peaks through the red curtains, as a little kid spying around the corner. The beams illuminate motes of dust, playfully dancing in the air. Thunder and rain moved on and made room for the sun to shine. It's passed noon and Sam's sitting behind the small table, which is entirely filled with papers, books, files and both his and Zoë's laptop. Concentrated he goes through documents which the Macbook's wiki contains, preparing for the next encounter with the shapeshifter. Neil Young is singingDown By The River on the radio, so softly that you'd have to listen very carefully to make out the words. Besides traffic rushing by on Route 52 next to the motel, it's peaceful. Dean turns on his back in the double bed, moaning softly. Sam looks up and grins. He's not sure what's funnier; the fact that Dean isn't sleeping on the floor or on the couch as Zoë persisted earlier, or that she's actually the one sleeping next to him. Just before 8 'o clock she finished up the last stitch on Dean. Sam still doesn't know if Zoë actually knew what she was doing, but she did great. After a night like this neither of them gave a damn who slept next to who, they just wanted to finally get some rest in a decent bed. Not before they had their burgers, of course. It's remarkable how much those two are alike, probably the reason why they can't stand each other. Strange, they must have gone along fine, otherwise Dean wouldn't have remembered her. Hell, he doesn't even remember some of the girls he slept with, not to mention the girls he didn't make love to. If he may believe his brother, she was this fun, sweet and young student, loving life and enjoying every second of it. The typical Californian girl, loved to surf and hang out at the beach. Also a good artist, Dean told him, although he could have made that up, considering Dean doesn't care less about that stuff. But above all, Zoë was a family person, she cared a lot about her family and friends, that's what Dean told him on their way over to the motel anyway. Then that demon came along and screwed the whole thing up. Sam hates it, why do bad things always happen to good people? Now look what she has become. It turns out every hunter needs a history to become one. Whatever her history is, she became damn good at her job. The database she built is outstanding, especially when you take out for notice that the first file dates from 2000; she's working the business a little over five years now. Zoë is dedicated, that's for sure. He looks at her. She's sleeping peacefully, curled up on her right side, her eyes closed, breathing calmly. It's weird to see the strong woman like that; she seems so vulnerable. Not entirely though, because even in her sleep she seems to have the upper hand on Dean. She has pulled over the cover almost completely, not leaving much for his brother. He doesn't seem to mind, on the other hand, it will take a lot to wake Dean up after a night like the last. The light from outside shines a graceful glow on Zoë's pretty face, she seems to be smiling slightly. She might act like a bitch, but she's an attractive girl in some strange way. However, he has to be honest with himself. After what happened to Jess, he can't think of her like that, not now. His eyes turn shallow as his thoughts go back to that moment a month ago. He doesn't get the time to dwell in his sorrow though, because out of nowhere, Zoë jumps up startled and pulls a gun from under her pillow.

"Wow!", Sam shows his hands.
Puzzled she stares at Sam, then aside at Dean and lowers the gun with a sigh.
"Guess it wasn't a bad dream", she indicates with raspy voice.
"No, I guess it wasn't, damn…", he relaxes again as Zoë locks the gun and puts it back under her pillow.
"I'm not use to having people around, that's all", she comments as she intends to get out.
"I think paranoid is a better description", Sam comments.
"Shut up", Zoë's clearly not in a good mood. "What time is it?"
"Almost one", Sam answers, concentrating on his computer screen again.
"Not even five hours", she groans, realizing that although it's past midday, she didn't get much sleep.
She swallows, trying to get the bad taste out of her mouth. Not a great way to wake up, she still feels like crap. To be honest, the amount of whiskey she drank last night, followed by her fries and burger - with extra onions –didn't help. Thankfully it's still dark in the room, her eyes can't handle the bright light from outside just yet. With a sigh she gets up. A moan escapes from her lips when she feels her painful side. Gosh, it feels even worse than last night, but she's not worried. It's normal to feel soar, this is not the first time she's going through this. Slowly she shuffles to the bathroom, Sam watches her enter.
"You alright?", he asks, surprised by her condition.
"Yeah, a bit hung over, that's all", she lies.
Sam decides not to ask any more questions, he doesn't know her very well, but he has learned she hates those. He turns back at his laptop, trying to get the image of Jess out of his head. He's watching some kind of installation proceed. The governmental website of Rochester is hidden in the lowest toolbar, finally the slowly moving meter hits the 100 % . A program opens and asks for a password.
"Damn it!", Sam curses.

"What?"
The sound comes from the bathroom, it's just now that Sam hears the shower running.
"Nothing…", he responds absent.
He rubs his face; how on earth is he gonna crack this? He works the computer as Zoë takes a warm but refreshing shower. The clean water feels like acid on her shot wound, but at the same time it relieves her. She forks her hands through her hair and lets the water rain down on her face.
For a long while they don't talk at all, apparently the silence bothers Zoë.
"Could you turn on the radio?"
Still silence, Sam is working so concentrated he doesn't hear her.
"Sam!"
"What?", he snaps out of it.
"Could you turn on the radio", she repeats.
"Dean's asleep", he reacts, typing strenuously.
"So?"
Again Sam fails to respond.
"Hello?"
"What? No, I can't work with music", he mumbles thoughtless.
Zoë doesn't ask again. Normally Sam would have noticed that unusual fact, but it's not until Zoë walks by completely naked that she catches his attention.

"Holy sh…", she swallows down the last word and looks away, almost falling off his chair.
Not even a bit uncomfortable she walks up to the table and turns on the radio, which sets in duringLook But You Can't Touch by Poison. Sam tries to avoid looking at her, feeling very awkward as she bends over him to turn the volume up.
"Never seen a woman before, geekboy?", she notices he's ill-at-ease, enjoying the moment.
"You could have warned", he responds looking away with wide opened eyes.
"You could have turned on the radio", she bounces back and turns away.
He breathes out and when he's pretty sure it's safe, then carefully glances at the bathroom. Thank God, she's back in the shower. Again he robs his face and stares at his brother for a moment, who's still asleep.
"Dean, you have no idea what you just missed", he whispers.
"What's that?"
Sam almost tumbles off his chair again and stares back at the bathroom.
"Nothing!", he responds too fast.
Not a sound, for a moment he's afraid she might come back out again. He swallows apprehensively and tries to focus on his work again, but he finds it difficult to do so. Wauw, really… wauw. As Dean would say: she might be a bitch, but she looks mighty awesome. He hits himself in the head; he can't think of her like that. She's a bitch, not sexy. Bitch, not sexy. Suddenly he hears her voice echo from the bathroom. At first is scares him, because for a moment it sounds like she's right behind him, but then he's pleasantly surprised as she joins in with Bret Michaels during the chorus. It turns out her singing voice isn't bad.
"…Cause you can look but you can't touch, cause the best things in life ain't cheap. You can look but you can't touch, cause baby I ain't for keeps", she sings.
Again Sam glares at the bathroom. He can see her pretty much perfect silhouette through the blurred glass, quickly he turns his head. Sam Winchester, keep yourself together! He's almost disgusted by the fact that he can't keep his eyes off her, but then again, every man who would, could be considered gay.

The song fades in to a new one, this time an easy listener; Changes by Black Sabbath.
"What's up with the whole vampire lifestyle?", Zoë asks out of nowhere.
Apparently she doesn't feel like singing anymore; she closes the faucet and the sound of the water falling down on the ivory white tiles stops.
"What?", Sam looks over at her, puzzled, although he can't see her behind the glass.
"There are about half a dozen empty coffee containers on the table", she explains.
Her voice sounds hollow in the empty bathroom, but Sam can hear her loud and clear. She opens the shower door en grabs her towel and some clothes. It takes Sam a while to answer her question, as if he's trying to decide weather he should tell her or not.
"I can't sleep", he answers shortly, apparently he chose his last option.
"Sure you won't burn when I throw Holy water at ya?", she jokes, while putting on a pair of jeans.
Sam looks up and glances at the bathroom, obviously half listening, then he gets the point. Zoë is still standing behind the blurry glass, putting on her bra; he quickly turns his head.
"It's nothing like that really, it's…", he pauses, scratching his chin, finding it difficult to talk about it. "It's Jessica…"
His thoughts wonder off as he folds his hands together and leans his elbows on his knees, staring in the distance. Suddenly it's not that difficult to avoid the attractive Zoë. For a moment he pictures her, his pretty Jess. Long blond curly hair, a beautiful smile, God, she was beautiful in every way. He was in love with her, he still is.
"Girlfriend?", Zoë asks, not seeming that interested.
"Yeah, well… she was", he answers with difficulty.
"Oh, I see", Zoë grins, thinking she got it figured.
She enters the main room while she buttons her white-grey blocked blouse.
"You dumped her, and now you regret it, right?", she guesses.

Sam stays silent and leans back in his chair. He takes a sip from his coffee, still staring at nothing. Zoë sits down on her side of the bed and takes a pair of socks and black leather ankle boots out of a duffel bag underneath her bed and puts them on as she glances at Sam.
"She dumped you?", Zoë tries again, concluding that her first guess was wrong.
He swallows apprehensively and looks her straight in the eyes. It spooks her, the sudden gaze, his penetrating green eyes. But Sam's not angry, nor annoyed. She's shocked by what she sees in them, so much sorrow. She knows that shallow gaze, she knows it way too well.
"She's dead".
Zoë knows, Sam doesn't need to tell her, but he confirms with a nod, almost unnoticeable.
She looks down at the dark blue carpet, feeling sorry for him for the first time since they've met. She doesn't know why, but she can't show him much of her compassion, she just can't show emotion.
"Because of something we hunt?", she asks formal.
"A demon", he answers shortly, looking at the empty coffee container in his hand.
A cold silence, as the image of Jessica shows up in front of him again, but this time he doesn't see her smiling, but in the state that he found her. He grinds his teeth, but he's not mad at Zoë for asking. He's frustrated, hurting, trying to deal but unable to. She observes him, noticing something about Sam Winchester that feels familiar, something she recognizes.
"I'm sorry", she says, but pronouncing the words like a doctor or undertaker would do.
It's about as compassionate as Zoë ever becomes and although Sam doesn't know her that well, he seems to realize it. He looks up, his eyes glister. He's not saying a word, but gives her a thankful nod. Although this is a painful moment, she has to ask him again.
"I can't help it to notice, but I think you're not completely honest with me", Zoë starts.
She gets up from the bed and shoves the curtains aside, letting the bright sunlight in. Dean, facing the window, moans and turns his head, but doesn't wake up. He breathes in deeply and lets out a sigh, his right arm of which his shoulder is bandaged, crossed before his chest. When Zoë's sure he's still sleeping, she continues.
"You see, you say you can't sleep. I think you can, but just don't want to. Otherwise you wouldn't need six coffee to stay awake", she notices smartly.

Sam glances at the empty coffee containers on the table and looks away; she's got him all figured out. Strangely enough he doesn't feel uncomfortable. Actually, he wants to tell her, he doesn't see why he shouldn't. Somehow he trusts her enough to open up to her, but there's enough distance between them to avoid awkwardness about this subject. He looks over at his brother; he's still sound asleep. Zoë notices he's checking on him.
"You're worried about him?", she asks, looking back at the youngest brother. "Don't, you'll need to set off a bomb before he wakes up".
Sam chuckles; seems like she got Dean figured out as well. She's right; it's okay to tell her. It might do him good.
"I have these nightmares…", he starts off and pauses, as he seeks for words. "Let's put it this way: I rather stay awake than sleep and go through them".
Zoë strolls through the room and halts on the other side, leaning against the wall; she seems interested all of a sudden.
"Nightmares, huh?", she repeats, crossing her arms in front of her. "What do you dream about?"
"All sorts of things, about bad things happening to people I don't even know. Except for the first one", he pauses, staring at the floor again; Zoë knows enough.
"You dreamt about Jessica, didn't you?"
He nods. "Days before it happened".
Zoë remains silent from that point, thinking through his words, imagining what they could mean. He glances over at Dean, checking if he's still asleep, not wanting him to hear the conversation, then he continues with lowered voice.
"I can't put my finger on it. How is it even possible that I see an event take place days before it actually happens? It almost seems like…".
"… a vision?", she asks.
"Yeah, exactly", Sam whispers. "Come on, it's weird. Even for people like us".
"It is weird", she agrees.
Zoë takes a moment to think and observe the information. She bites her lip again, it seems to be a habit.
"Do you have headaches?", she asks out of the blue.

Puzzled Sam glances up at her and looks her in the eye, but she doesn't blink.
"Yeah, I do actually", he realizes. "But with everything going on with Jess and Dad…"
"Stop. Dad as in John Winchester?", Zoë intervenes.
"Yeah, he's missing", Sam clears up, surprised that she's so interested about his father.
"Aha, John's good at that sort of thing", she comments.
Sam notices the cynical tone, but doesn't take the time to think about it.
"This is different. He just took off one night, he left Dean and disappeared. That's when Dean came to Stanford", Sam tells.
"To drag you back in the bizz?", she asks confronting.
"Yeah, I guess that was his intention, but it isn't the reason why I'm hunting again", he says. "Mom was murdered and now Jess? It's too much of a coincidence, especially with Dad gone. Something's up".
She walks back to the window and observes the area outside. It's a great day, the sun is shining brightly, smiling down at her. It's almost ironic, working on a dark case during this weather; it doesn't fit the picture.
"Maybe a demon snatched him", she says, not even considering that this conclusion actually might upset Sam.
"No", he answers fierce. "Since when do demons make such an effort to cover the whole thing up? If they kill a hunter, they leave it for the others to find".
"You've got a point", she admits. "You think he's on a hunting trip?"
"I think he's hunting down the son of a bitch that killed Mom and Jess", Sam speaks up.
Zoë looks away and bits her lip, thinking about it. She knows that he's probably right. John has always been obsessed with the demon that killed his wife and he'll do anything to kill it, no matter what the consequence, no matter what the sacrifice.
"It's the same demon", she realizes as the pieces start to fall into place in her head.
She sits down on the bed again, this time facing the window but Sam. Sam's girlfriend, his mother's death, John Winchester's disappearance, maybe even the nightmares, this could all be connected. She sighs as if the world is resting on her shoulders, without making eye contact.

"Are you absolutely sure, Sam? Cause this could be pretty damn important", she brings to mind.
This time she does look straight at him, her brown eyes stare deep down his. He stares back, hurting, but confident.
"I saw my girlfriend, pinned on the sealing, bleeding on me, after which she caught fire, the same damn way Dad saw Mom burn", he pronounces his words slowly, his voice trembles.
Zoë can almost see the scenario replay before his eyes, she knows he relives it, everyday, every time he thinks of her. She frowns and sighs.
"Yeah, that does sound like him", she concludes and gets up.
It's the way she said it, her tone maybe, that forces Sam to look up. He would almost think that this demon isn't just a story she heard from another hunter in some bar.
"You've seen him, haven't you?", Sam realizes stunned.
She turns around to face him, but quickly stares back down, thinking her words through carefully before she speaks. Crap, she should have kept that to herself. She has to say something now.
"We had our dealings in the past", she answers vaguely.
Sam observes her as she puts on a grey jersey she just picked up from the chair and heads for the door. It's just now that he realizes she's going out.
"Where are you going?", he asks.
"I'm gonna check on my Dave, I thought I heard a rattle last night", Zoë explains, but halts by the door. "One more question".
Sam waits patiently, looking at her from behind the table. She seems to hesitate, but then continues without looking him in the eye.
"Do you have them during the day?", she asks.
"What, the nightmares?", he asks puzzled, she nods.
"Wouldn't be nightmares then, would they?", he answers, not understanding the immediate cause of the question.
"You're right, never mind. I'll grab some lunch on my way back in. Meanwhile you try to get that brother of yours out of his coma. Use a salt gun or something".

She grins, Sam shakes his head while he chuckles. Just before she closes the door, he can see her eyes sparkle like those of a little boy who's up to something. Then she closes the door behind her and leaves Sam with his brother. She's a strange girl, that Zoë Sullivan, that's for sure. She's so hardened and cruel, but her heart isn't all black, not yet. She even has this weird sense of humor, sarcastic, cynical. Perkier than Dean, that's a new one. He wasn't even sure it was possible, but she manages to shut him up most of the time. They don't come around often in that mixture. She's a tough girl, a good hunter, not afraid to be by herself, independent and strong, but isn't that just a shell? Sam believes there's a lot more under the surface. Loneliness, anger, frustration, sorrow, fear, he knows those feelings and deep down, Zoë probably knows them too. There's something about her that he recognizes; she once had a normal life like he and his brother had and all three of them lost it because of something supernatural. Dean was five years old when he was introduced to this world so little people know about and grew up with it, Zoë was in college when she found out, he himself stepped back from the hunting fields and went to go study as well, until now that is. All of them were normal once, that's what they have to hold on to. That gives them the slightest bit of hope they need to keep going, hoping that one day they might be able to go back to that life. Whatever will happen, things will never be the same again. People died and won't ever come back. They will always know, they will always be watching their backs, they will always be hunters.