Sara could hear a snarling noise, and hot, wet breath close to her face. The rancid smell of blood and rotten flesh hit her, and her stomach rolled. She balled up her fists, and wailed. She was only five, after all, and she was quite scared in the dark.

She called out for her mother over and over, stumbling through the dark until she tripped over something sticky. Looking down, her mother's blank eyes stared up at her, her flesh torn from her throat, her chest, completely filleted open.

Sara cried, leaning down, hot, thick blood covering her dress and body as she threw herself around her mother, begging her to wake up.

Sara . . .

Sara . . .

"Hey! Sara!"

Sara gasped and sat up, heart pounding and shaking.

Alex stood over her, her silhouette outlined by the moonlight streaming into the room. Her hair was tousled from sleep, but her eyes were wide and alert, and slightly panicked.

"I . . . I'm sorry," Sara said, feeling her cheek and finding it wet. "Was I crying?"

"Man, I thought you were dying in here or something." Alex released a breath, and Sara noticed she had a sawed off in her hands. She lowered it, laying it aside on the night stand. "I heard a crash and you crying, so I came running . . . but how the hell did you break a lamp all the way across the room?"

Sara's eyes followed Alex's hand, which was pointing at a large, heavy lamp laying shattered on the floor across the room. Sara swallowed and shook her head.

"I don't know," she said, her stomach still rolling – the scent of death still clung to the inside of her nose, and her eyes welled up with tears of disgust and panic. "I've never had a dream like this before. It was like . . . I was there for my mother's death. But when she died I was with a babysitter. She was at work. I don't know what I saw, or what I did." She sat up, wrapping her arms around her legs. "You must think I'm a freak."

"Move over, freak." Sara was surprised when Alex pulled the covers up, crawling into the bed.

"What are you doing?" Sara asked in confusion as Alex pushed her over.

"You had a nightmare and you're freaked out. I'm sleeping in here tonight." At Sara's confused expression, she raised her eyebrows. "So you somehow managed to knock a lamp over. Claire was a possessed by an angel one time. I was a vampire for like an hour once. I mean, obviously something is different about you, otherwise you wouldn't be stalked by Heaven and Hell. But the thing is you're my sister now, so I'm not going to let you sit here and be afraid. Jody's at work – some call came in about a robbery at a 7-11, so she doesn't even have to know about this." She grabbed one of Sara's pillows and got comfy. "So stop thinking about it and go to sleep already."

Sara smiled a little. So this is what kindness felt like. She rolled over, back to back with Alex, and fell into her pillow, laying quietly as Alex slowly fell asleep, her breathing slowing to a steady rhythm.

As Sara tried to fall asleep, though, all she could see was her mother, lying and bleeding at her feet, and felt an overwhelming sense of guilt.

Sara woke late the next morning, around eleven, to the sound of Johnny Cash and the smell of bacon and eggs cooking. She sat up, finding a note next to her bed.

S,

Went to school, Jody's at work. Be back around three. Don't kill anymore lamps!

A

Sara smiled and got up, dressing in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and shoving her feet into some slippers. She headed down the stairs, finding the Winchesters in the kitchen. Dean was whistling along to Folsom Prison and cooking, and Sam was at the table, typing away at his laptop and frowning. He smiled, though, when Sara came into the kitchen.

"Hey," he said, nodding at the seat across from him. She sat, and suddenly found a plate of food in front of her as Dean moved to pour her some juice.

"How domestic," she grinned, and Dean shrugged and Sam laughed.

"Alex said you had a rough night," Dean said as he sat down, sliding a plate in front of Sam and digging into his own food.

"It was a bit more than that, actually," she said, and quickly explained. She left out the details of her dream, though, unable to stomach the grisly details.

Dean was frowning. "You don't sleepwalk or anything?"

"Never," she said. "That lamp is like fifteen pounds. It's an antique. Totally busted on the floor."

"Sounds familiar," Dean mumbled into his bacon.

"Have you ever had visions?" Sam asked, looking concerned. "Premonitions, maybe? Or have you ever accidentally moved anything else?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Not that I know of. Why? Is that something that happens?"

Sam shook his head. "No. I mean, it shouldn't. Well, it happened to me, but that was a long time ago."

"You've had things like this happen to you?" Sara was surprised.

Sam and Dean exchanged amused looks.

"I'm infected with demon's blood," Sam mentioned.

"I was a demon like a year ago," Dean added.

"I've been possessed," Sam continued. "Several times. One time by Satan."

"I was a vampire that one time," Dean nodded.

"I've died . . . six times," Sam said, counting in his head.

"Eight," Dean countered.

"A hundred and three times if you count what went down at the mystery spot," Sam reminded him.

"Right," Dean nodded. "But those don't count."

"Maybe not for you. I had to live through it."

"Cry me a river."

Sara listened to the banter, eyes wide, mouth open, her fork stopped halfway to her mouth. She slowly put it down. "I think I've lost my appetite," she said miserably.

"You're not going to die," Dean promised fiercely. He took a piece of bacon from her plate, and Sam looked at her sympathetically.

The door opened, and Sam frowned, standing. Sara caught a glimpse of a gun tucked into his jeans, and wondered if he'd have to use it. He relaxed, though, when Cas and Claire walked through the door.

"What're you doing back?" Dean asked. "What about the prophet?"

"He's dead," Cas said gruffly, obviously annoyed. "I called the retirement home he lived in to get some information. He was found dead in his suite last night. We turned around and came back."

"Any word on the cause of death?" Sam frowned.

"Yes," Cas sighed. "He was tortured to death."

"Son of a bitch," Dean said, rubbing his eyes.

"Who would kill him?" Sam frowned. "It doesn't make sense. Crowley gave you the lead, so it wasn't him. No one else knew about this."

"Actually, someone did." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, brown pouch. Both Sam and Dean cursed.

"Rowena," Sam groaned.

"How the hell did she get close enough to plant that on you?" Dean asked, grabbing it and tossing it in the sink. He found a box of matches, struck a few, and lit the bag on fire.

"I don't know," Castiel answered, looking more annoyed by the second. "But when we find her, I say we turn her over to Crowley."

"Agreed," Dean said, standing.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked.

"I'm going to head into town and see if we can find these winged assholes creeping on her," he said, pointing at Sara. "I gotta get my mind off of the Wicked Bitch of the West."

"Yeah, good idea," Sam agreed, standing. "I'll go with you."

"Cas, you good here?" Dean asked.

"I'll stay with the girls," Castiel nodded.

"We don't need a babysitter," Claire said, annoyed. "I was going to head to the Salvage Yard."

"The Salvage Yard?" Dean frowned. "Bobby's?"

"I told Claire she could work on some of the cars there," Cas replied. "I hope that was okay."

"It's great," Sam told him when Dean didn't say anything. "But you guys should stay here for a while. At least until Jody gets back."

"Fine," Claire sighed.

"I've got some lore books out in the car if you want them," Sam said.

Claire groaned.

"Part of being a hunter is being educated," he reminded her.

"Fine," she sighed again.

Sara and Claire spent the next few hours siting on the floor in the living room, books spread out all around them, as well as snacks. Cas sat on the sofa, looking through the journals Bobby had left behind.

"I can't use the flashdrive," he told Claire. "It's password protected. Can you get into it?"

"I can't," she said, taking the small drive. "But Alex probably can. She's pretty good with all that computer stuff."

When Alex got home, she sat with them as well, and began trying to break into the drive. She spent several hours trying different passwords and codes, and frowning.

Sara, meanwhile, learned a lot about the supernatural world. Demons left sulfur deposits, and their eyes were usually black, but sometimes they were red or white or even yellow, according to Sam's notes in the book. Angels didn't have a lot of lore, but Sam wrote some things. They had to have permission to enter their vessels, and they had all sorts of symbols that could be used to summon or banish them.

Eventually, she sighed, shutting the book.

"You okay?" Alex asked.

"Fine," she said, rubbing her temples. "My head just hurts."

"Hit the showers," Claire said, taking a drink of root beer. "A hot bath should help."

"Thanks, mom," Sara grinned, and Claire threw a pillow at her. Sara caught it and tossed it to Alex, who tossed it back to Claire, who turned around and hit Castiel with it. He acted offended, and Claire and Alex laughed.

Sara headed for the bathroom, and turned the bath water on as hot as she could stand it. She stripped, tossing her clothes into the hamper, and examined herself in the mirror. The wound in her side was healing nicely, but still a bit sore. Her bruises had turned an ugly yellow color, but she was alive, and that's all that mattered.

She leaned down, washing her face in cool water as her headache worsened. She patted off with a towel, stood up straight, and gasped when she saw her reflection.

Her eyes were completely black, her brown irises gone. She backed up against the wall, her reflection looking as frightened as she herself felt. Her heart beat faster and faster, blood roaring in her ears. There was a popping sound, and the light bulbs shattered, the room going dark.

She slid down the wall, hiding her face in her hands for several long, agonizing minutes. Eventually, she stood, and using the fading light coming from the window, examined her face.

It was tear stained, but her eyes were back to normal. Her headache was subsiding, but she didn't feel relieved. All she could do was stare at her reflection and wonder what was happening to her.