Sara sat at the table in the main room, fidgeting nervously. She had an odd feeling, one of dread and fear – she immediately wished for the comfort of her father or Jody.

After surprising her with his response to the yellow-eyed man, Sam had asked Sara to give him a few minutes and to meet him at the table. She sat there now, tapping her fingers on her lap nervously as she waited for him to come back. She'd said something that really bothered him – that much was obvious. Sam had looked extremely nervous, and even afraid.

She glanced up as Sam entered the room, this time with Dean. Sam had gotten dressed, and he must have woken Dean as well – he looked groggy, but also very grim. She noticed the lines under his eyes growing more defined by the day, which worried her, but now she was distracted - he had a thick, leather bound journal in his hand.

"Have I said something?" Sara asked nervously. "I didn't mean to offend you . . ."

"No, Sara, it's nothing like that," Sam was quick to gently reassure her. "This is something we should have talked to you about as soon as we found out. But your dad thought it was a bad idea."

"My dad?" Sara frowned. It was clear that the Winchesters and her father very rarely agreed on anything – ever. If they'd talked about whatever this was, and reached a peaceful agreement, it must be bad.

"What exactly do you know about your mother's death?" Dean asked, sitting across from her. Sam sat beside him, running his hands through his hair as though trying to distract himself long enough while he came up with something to say.

"Not a lot," Sara admitted. "The social worker told me it was an animal attack. But . . ." she hesitated.

"Go on," Sam urged her gently.

"That always felt . . . wrong," Sara continued. "My mother didn't work near any woods. She worked at a restaurant. Her car never even moved from its parking space there. How could she have gotten to a forest?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other for a moment, seeming to silently agree on something. They turned back towards her.

"Sara, your mother wasn't killed by an animal," Sam started.

Sara's heart pounded – deep down, she'd always known that. But to hear it now, out loud and from Sam, she could feel her mouth go dry and her stomach twist up in knots.

"She was killed by a demon," Dean continued. "Called Azazel."

If Sam had looked upset before, Dean's apparent anger surpassed it. Sara wanted to ask about it, but she was stunned – a demon had not been the answer she'd been expecting.

"A demon?" she repeated, eyes wide.

Dean slid the journal around, opening it and flipping it to an obviously worn page. Sara frowned and pulled the journal towards her. The pages were full of notes, maps, and photos. Sara picked one up – it was a different man, but the eyes were unforgettable.

"This is him," she said in a whisper. "This is the man I saw."

Dean frowned. "Wait – you saw him?"

Sara nodded. "Once, when I was a little girl. He was following us, I think. My mother." She shook her head. "This is how you know that this thing, this Azazel, killed her?"

Sam and Dean glanced at each other again – Sara really wished they'd stop doing that. It was like they were having an entire conversation without speaking a single word.

"The wounds on your mother were consistent with wounds we'd seen inflicted on others before," Sam said carefully.

"I just don't understand," Sara said, shaking her head. "Why would a demon kill my mother? Surely they would know if my father found out, he'd . . . well, you know how he is."

"Thirteen years ago, Hell was a completely different place," Sam said. "Crowley wasn't in charge there – Lilith was."

Sara's heart almost skipped a beat. "Lilith."

"Lilith was –" Dean started.

"I know who she is," Sara almost spat, and both the brothers looked surprise at her knowledge. "She's the one who wanted me for Lucifer. She's the reason my mother and father couldn't be together."

"Lilith knew about Regina and Crowley?" Sam rose his eyebrows.

"My father couldn't be in my life – in our life – because he was protecting us from Lilith," Sara continued. She took a deep breath. "And this Azazel – he killed my mother."

"If I had to guess, he did it on Lilith's orders," Dean said, crossing his arms. "Get Regina out of the way, it'd be easier to get to you. When you got older, you'd disappear out of the system. No mess, just a missing foster kid."

"But she never came for me," Sara started.

"You're welcome," Dean said, and Sam gave him a 'dude, no,' kinda glare.

"Dean and I . . . might have started stirring up some trouble for the demons not long after that," Sam said sheepishly.

"My mother died . . . so it'd be easier to use me?" Sara said faintly.

"Sara, you can't blame yourself for this," Sam started.

"And Azazel?" she demanded.

"Dead," Dean said shortly.

"I need to be alone." She stood stiffly, walking away swiftly, until she reached the living room. Her legs felt like they'd give out; shaking, she fell onto the couch, laying her head in her hands. Her mind was spinning, and the lights started to flicker in the room. She took a few deep breaths, calming herself enough to keep her powers in check, but her mind was still racing.

Regina died for no reason other than to make it easier to get to Sara. Sara had refused to help Lucifer and now Cas was being tortured. Alex, Gavin, and Claire had been hurt in that fight with Lucifer.

Ever since she'd found out who she was, she'd tried to tell herself she wasn't a freak, she wasn't a monster. She was special. Different. Worth something. But she wasn't – she was toxic.

"Hey."

She looked up, startled, to see Sam. Sara swallowed and tried to wipe away the hot tears that were steadily starting to sting her eyes. She turned pink with embarrassment – she hated feeling weak, and she definitely didn't want to seem like it in front of the boys.

Sam sat on the couch beside her, holding something in his hands. "I, uh, wanted to show you something," he started.

Sara sat up, wiping her face once more, as he held out a photograph to her. Frowning, she took it, examining it. It was old, faded and a bit tattered, as though someone spent a lot of time folding and unfolding it. The photo showed a family of four – a man, maybe in his thirties, holding a little toe-head toddler who was clutching a toy fire engine and wearing his father's too big baseball hat. He was grinning, and so was his father. A beautiful, smiling blonde woman was holding a newborn baby in her arms.

"Who are they?" Sara sniffed, eyes moving over the photo.

"Well," Sam took a breath, and pointed at the man in the photo. "That's my dad . . ." he moved to the toddler. "And that's Dean. This is me," he said, pausing over the infant. He swallowed. "And this," he said, pointing at the woman. "Is my mother."

Sara examined the woman. Sara was reminded of her mother – the kind eyes, the beautiful smile . . .

Sara sniffed again, handing him the photo. "It's a lovely photo, Sam. Your mother looks wonderful."

"Yeah, I think she was," Sam said, taking the photo and gently setting it aside. "But I never got to know her myself. When I was six months old, she was killed." He glanced at Sara, obviously having difficulty talking about it. "By the yellow-eyed demon."

Sara took a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, Sam . . ."

"The reason I knew it was him who killed your mother was because I'd seen her wound before. It was the same wound that killed my mother – and my girlfriend, Jess."

Sara didn't know what to say. As she searched for words, Sam continued.

"I told you once that I was infected with demon's blood," he started. "Kinda overwhelmed you with that conversation. But, it was true. When I was six months old, Azazel – on orders from the higher ups – came into my nursery and fed me demon blood. It was so I would grow up with powers and eventually become a vessel for Lucifer. In the process, he killed my mom. Twenty-two years later, he came back. Not long after, Jess was dead."

"Sam, I . . . I'm so sorry."

"Looks like we have a lot in common," he tried for a smile. "Including guilt. Sara, I spent years blaming myself for what happened to mom and Jess. My dad's need for revenge practically destroyed him. There are some things we just can't blame ourselves for. It took me a long time for me to realize that."

"I just . . . it's not fair," Sara said, feeling her eyes well up again. "My mother fell in love. She never committed any crime! And she loved me unconditionally, and because of it, she was killed! If my father had just given me up like he was supposed to –"

"Your mother would have died anyway," Sam cut her off. "We all would have. If Lucifer had got to you before you knew about all this, who knows what could have happened? But one thing is for sure, Sara, he wouldn't have spared Regina. He doesn't do mercy."

Sara tried to stifle a sob, but was unable to. Instead of bottling it up this time, though, she leaned against Sam, burying her head in his shoulder and just letting herself cry. Sam wrapped his arm around her, holding her and rubbing her shoulder as she cried.

"You don't have to do this alone," Sam told her, squeezing her shoulder. "I promise, we'll always be here. I'll always be here. Anything you ever need to talk about, you can come to me, or Dean – any of us. You're family."

"Sam," Sara sniffed, pulling away. "You're always so kind to me. You always have been, since the moment we've met." She squeezed his hand. "Thank you. So much." She leaned over, hugging him. He hugged her back, reminded painfully of Charlie, but hid that pain as she pulled away and stood. She gave a weak smile before retreating to her room.

A few moments later, Dean entered the room. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Sam sighed, running his hand over his face as he stood with a sigh.

"You, uh. You did good with her."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "You were listening?"

Dean gave a sheepish half-shrug. "Look man – all that stuff you said, about not blaming yourself? Take your own advice."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Sara's not the only one beating themselves up over this situation with Cas," Dean started, and Sam tried to turn away.

"Sam," Dean sighed.

"Drop it, Dean," Sam retorted, pulling out his phone.

"You can't blame yourself for something Cas willingly did!"

"Cas wouldn't have been in that situation in the first place, if I hadn't gone to Lucifer!" Sam snapped. "I fell for his trap. I went into the Cage. And I should have known not to trust him, or Rowena. But I did it anyway, and now Cas is in a lotta trouble. So I'm not going to guilt over it – I'm going to do something about it."

Dean frowned. "What do you have in mind?"

Sam held his phone up, and Dean read a headline from an online news article:

Murder-Suicide in Hope Springs.

"We're going to find Amara," Sam said. "And we're going to make her let Cas go."