i was supposed to post this last night, but my dad refused to let me and i had to go to bed D: sorry DDD:

thanks for all my reviews ;D and to my new readers and i've had more people add this to their fav stroy list :DDDDDDDDDD thank you!

enjoy!

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Chapter 38: Born Under a Bad Sign Part 2

I woke up as I felt the car being pulled into a spot and Dean shut the engine off. I was still on his lap, my breath hitting back at my face as it ricocheted off of Dean's warm thighs. I must have turned in my sleep because I was now facing his stomach instead of his feet and the pedals and for a moment I wanted to push my face into the fabric and warmth of his midsection and just fall right back asleep.

I felt him run his hand through my hair once before he sighed and touched my shoulder, shaking it slightly to wake me up.

"Andy, sweetheart, we're here." He said softly, his voice streaked with worry even though he was hiding it well.

I sat up slowly and rubbed my eyes. My clothes and hair were dry and I glanced at Dean's disheveled appearance. His hair had dried in every which way and it looked so messy compared to his usual gelled locks. Although, I'm pretty sure I couldn't have been looking any better. I pulled down the visor in the passenger side and looked at myself in the small rectangular mirror. It looked like I hadn't slept in days and the light coat of eye liner I usually had on ran below my eyes. It made the dark purple circles under my eyes look like they were black and blue.

"You don't look so hot." Dean commented worriedly and I heard him swear again and shake his head.

I licked the tip of my pointer finger and wiped the makeup away and pulled my hair into a long ponytail. "I'm fine, for some reason makeup makes me look twice as bad instead of making me look prettier."

Dean snorted as I smiled at him and he kissed my knuckles. "You don't need that crap caked on your face anyway."

"Are you calling me naturally pretty Dean Winchester?" I quirked, making him grin.

"Well, I was, until you got all smug about it." He got out of the car with that and I snorted, following him and shutting the door.

"Right, like you've never been smug about your appearance."

Dean shook his head no and popped the trunk, getting out a gun and one for me. I made sure it was loaded and wasn't cocked and set it in the back band of my jeans.

"I'm not smug," He said defiantly. "I'm just…confident."

I rolled my eyes as he closed the trunk and took my hand to head into the motel. "I don't see what you have to be so confident about." I teased which earned Dean sticking his tongue out at me. I couldn't help but smile. He was adorable; I gave him that. "Did Sam tell you what room he was in?" I asked, hoping we weren't walking up all these stairs for nothing. I could tell by the faster we walked the more Dean realized we were closer to finding Sam and knowing what had happened. He could have easily forgotten that we didn't even know what room Sam was in.

"No," Dean added sarcastically, bruising my feelings slightly. "We're walking up all these stairs for our health."

I pulled my hand from him, but he didn't seem to notice. I hated how we could be joking one minute and glaring and hating each other's attitude the next. I couldn't wait until the first moment for Dean to get extremely pissed off with our kid's attitude just so I could tell him that that trait was all from him.

"Here." Dean said, pointing at room 24. He stared at it for a moment, feet glued to the ground and eyes terrifyingly cold and frozen.

I looked at him concerned; my anger and annoyingness completely washed away like a bad taste in my mouth. "Are you okay?"

Dean swallowed. "What if he's not?"

Dean didn't look okay but I didn't comment on it. What if he was right? I don't think I could take opening that door and finding Sam bloodied and battered, or worse, in a million blood soaked pieces like Ava's fiancé had been. I didn't know that guy but seeing Sam like that would kill me. It would rip my insides to shreds…and I mean literally.

I hesitated, wondering if my next sentence would anger Dean or propose him to move. It would probably anger him enough to move. "Well, if Sam's not alright don't you want to find out so we can find the son of a bitch who did it?"

His eyes clouded over and he looked like he was about to kick the door down or kick me. I'm guessing whatever thought came closer to his decision. Instead he surprised me and attentively knocked on the door and called Sam's name out. He sounded like a kid who mouthed off to a teacher and frighteningly went to the principal's office.

I swallowed and let Dean do what he wanted to do. As he knocked again I informed Sam that we were here and that it was just us. When he didn't respond Dean and I exchanged a long look and I tried the door handle.

"Why do we never try and see if the door is unlocked first?" I asked ironically and pushed it open. It made me wonder how many doors were actually unlocked and Dean had kicked it down or shot the lock off. Probably more than I could count. For some reason it made me want to become to official door knob tryer.

Dean pushed past me and I saw Sam on the bed, his head hung low. He rushed over to him and held onto his shoulders as I gently closed the door.

"Sam? Hey." Dean sad somewhat harshly, trying to get his attention.

Sam looked up at us as I came over and knelt next to Dean. His eyes were soft and confused. "Hey, Sam." I said gently, giving him a small warm smile. "You had us worried, ya know."

"Are you bleeding?" Dean asked suddenly, his voice urgent and panicked.

I looked down at Sam's hands and then at his white shirt cloaked in dried blood as Dean pushed Sam up and pulled the jacket he was wearing to the side.

"I tried to wash it off." Sam informed us, sounding lost.

"Oh, my God." I shook my head and swallowed. "Sam what happened?"

Sam shook his head, looking at the blood with wide eyes, like it was the first time he had ever saw it. "I don't think it's my blood."

"Whose is it?" Was it odd that Dean's voice was slightly calmer now? Now that he knew it wasn't his brother's blood. That didn't necessarily mean we were out of the woods yet. Actually, I think it alarmed me more to know that it wasn't Sam and someone else's.

"I don't know."

"Did you get into some sort of fight?" I asked, trying to jog what little memory he seemed to have.

"Guys," Sam cut off what Dean was about to say and fear filled his eyes. "I don't remember anything."

0o0o0o0o0o0

Dean started pacing after that; long strides across the ugly maroon carpet. I sat next to Sam and observed his hands, making sure the dried blood wasn't coming from any cuts. Other than his knuckles, which had little indentations on them; like small pins were pushed into his skin, he didn't have a scratch on him. Actually, I'm not sure his knuckles could even be considered as cuts or scratches. They were small but had provided a lot of blood on his hands, assuming that the blood was his. It was one of those things, like a really bad paper cut, that looked worse than it really was. On the other hand, however, Sam looked just as bad as he actually did.

"Dean." I tried to interrupt his walking again but he put his hand up to quiet me as the train of thought roared continuously in his head. I was pretty sure he didn't even know what to think anyway so I have no idea why he wouldn't let me say anything.

I sighed, glancing over at Sam who looked like he was about to burst into tears as he looked at my hands on his. His dry, bloody hands felt like peeling paint against my lotion scented hands and it made me want to drag him into the bathroom so he could wash them. I also wanted him to change his shirt so he didn't smell like a million pennies instead of the warming and calming vanilla I was so used to.

I squeezed his hand for a moment and let go, getting up to walk in front of Dean. He could run me over if he wanted to. "Dean." I said again, slightly quieter as he turned to head into a whole nother stride. I put my hands on his chest and stopped him, which seemed to gain his attention. "Why don't you head down to the front desk and see if Sam's room has had any disturbances or anything." Dean shook his head and looked over to Sam once. I cupped his face running my thumb over his cheekbone. "I'll stay right here and clean him up. You're not going to be able to help him with pacing." I said light heartedly; hoping he took it has a joke and not a jab at how he dealt with some things.

Thankfully, he pulled my hand back from his face and kissed it and gave me a small smile. "I'll be back, Sam. I'm gonna check in with the front desk." I walked with him to the front door and I gave him a small smile. "Thanks, you know, for offering to clean him up."

I kissed his cheek. "You don't have to thank me."

He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, which seemed tense because he winced. "You think he'll be okay?" he asked me worriedly and I glanced back at Sam, who was staring at the wall in front of him near the bathroom door. He was perfectly still. He gave gargoyles on churches a run for their money. It gave me a chill up my spine and I found Dean gripping my hand.

"I hope so." I replied quietly.

O0o00o00o0

I took Sam into the bathroom and sat him down on the closed toilet. Ironically, the bathroom was nicer than the room. The toilet cover was puffy and pink carpeted material and it reminded me of the ugly carpet in the other room. It bewildered me why people wanted to cover their toilet seat with something that looked fluffy and pink. The tiles on the floor were white and had little roses in the middle of them. Every one of the white porcelain items in the room; the sink, the tub, the toilet were all a pearly white. Not even close to being a yellow cream color from being used time and time again. The curtain on the windows matched the maroon shower curtain and the mirror above the sink didn't have any splotches.

"Huh," I said somewhat humorously as I turned the water on and waited for it to get warm. "I think they should pay the person who cleans the bathroom a little bit more."

I looked at Sam but he wasn't smiling, hell, I don't think he even heard me. So I sighed and kept the rest of the comments to myself. I waited until the water was warm and dipped the too white washcloth in it, swirling it and squeezing it for a moment or three and turned the water off.

My eyes hurt from the bright light bulb igniting the already too white room and I shut it off, the small amount of sunlight hitting off the walls giving a dim glow. But it was bright enough that you could see and it made me wish it was pitch black when I kneeled next to Sam and saw his face. It was broken but I couldn't see the cracks or the amount of pieces to fix it.

"Sam?" I questioned quietly and he sniffed, looking up at me. His eyes seemed to have lost so much color and life. He was dull and he was hurt. "Can you take your jacket off for me?"

He nodded and peeled the jacket off; the echo of it off the floor sounding like an anvil had fallen. I put some hair behind my ear and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. I wiped the blood of his knuckles and the blood off his wrists. It seemed to be everywhere at once. When I had rolled up his sleeves ever so slightly I had wondered if the blood went all the way up to his elbows. Luckily when I pulled it up farther it was just decorating above his wrists. It's horrible how dried blood can become so nonchalant when you deal with it so often.

I stood and went to the sink again to dunk the washcloth and pulled out my cell phone to call Dean. I asked him to grab a shirt for Sam out of the car before he came back up. I pocketed the phone and turned the water on again; the sound of rushing water bubbled in my ears and it made me wish I could get a conversation out of him. His silence was gnawing and worrying. The dried blood was cherry red as it plunged into the hot water. Hot was better than warm, maybe some hot water would bring some color to his skin. I felt like the water was opening my pores and that Sam's dried blood, or whoever's that was, was seeping into my own. It made me visibly shiver as I kneeled back down and Sam offered me his jacket.

"You cold?" He asked meekly.

I smiled at his kindness but there was blood on his jacket too. "No, just a chill. You have any blood on you anywhere else?" I asked, but knowing he probably didn't know the answer. I saw a blood spatter on his white button down shirt and touched his chest for a moment, trying to see if the blood was seeping through from underneath. "Can you open your shirt?"

He let out a smirk that reminded me of Dean. "All this time I've wanted you to say that…this wasn't how I pictured it."

A lot of things usually weren't how we pictured them. For example, I pictured me and Dean owning a house and having normal jobs when we had this baby. Things never turned out how you pictured them.

I smiled at Sam out of embarrassment, now just registering his sentence, and waited for him to open it up. He unbuttoned slowly, like in some effort to try and tease me and I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable in front of him like this. My hands felt hot and sweaty but they shook against the now cold washcloth. The water was dripping from the cloth and onto my jeans, soaking into the fabric and my breath caught in my throat as he pulled the shirt open. Underneath was tanned beautiful skin; not a single thing wrong with it. No bruising or scratches or tears; just horribly perfect muscled skin. I felt sick right then that I was looking and staring at Sam this way. I was supposed to be checking for wounds not checking him out.

"Why, Andy, I do believe you're staring." Sam said softly, his voice coming close to sounding like someone sliding on velvet or satin.

I swallowed hard and set the washcloth on the tub as I figured I wouldn't need it anymore. "Just thinking." I needed to clear my throat. It was dry and sounded like a car on uneven road. "Since that's not your blood, then whose is it?"

He closed his shirt then and I thanked God quietly. "I don't know." His voice was somber. "I think I did what my dad warned Dean about." He smirked but it was disgustingly sour; like the tangy taste you get in your mouth before you vomit.

He held his head low as he re-buttoned his shirt. I couldn't stop my hand as I cupped his cheek and ran a thumb along his cheekbone. Bells, loud and gonging, rang off in my head. I had done this to Dean and it shouldn't have been something I was doing to Sam. But I felt bad for him and I damned his puppy dog eyes and face. I also sympathized because I knew where he was coming from. I was basically in the same boat with him and I couldn't imagine how he could be feeling when he realized that the blood wasn't his.

"We don't know what's going on yet." I said carefully. "But Dean and I will figure it out."

"Dean…" He said softly and carefully, like he was weighing the word or trying to figure out what it meant. I thought for a moment that Dean was in the doorway, but he wasn't and I hadn't heard the main door open and close.

I nodded and carefully pulled my hand from his face, which for some reason unknown to me felt like warm sandpaper. I'm guessing it was from not shaving for three days. But before my hand got two inches away from him, he grabbed it. It resembled a cat or small child trying to grab a fly in the air. He caught me off guard and I found my instincts trying to wrench my hand away from his.

"Calm down." He said after a moment and I looked at him cautiously. His voice sounded off, like when you can tell a CD has a scratch on it. It didn't sound like him even though his voice was his own. He didn't sound like anybody else but somehow he was different. I guess three days of not being able to remember anything might do that to you. He let go of my hand then and I rubbed it like he had hurt me. Which he hadn't. I wasn't sure why I was feeling so skittish and I suddenly wished Dean would come back with that fucking shirt already. "Your warmth was making me feel better than that damn washcloth." He said was a smirk, trying to get me to smile.

I stood and smiled awkwardly. This wasn't him. I could feel it but I couldn't prove it. Maybe I was just over reacting. That could have been it; I did that a lot recently. Actually, I did that all the time. I crossed my arms over my chest, like he was staring right through me and as he stood I felt like backing into the wall. I felt like backing all the way into the drywall and into the parking lot. Suddenly, I heard the main door open and close and hurried out of the bathroom, colliding with Dean.

"Hey," He said catching my arm, looking up at Sam as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom. "Everything okay?" He asked and looked between us both.

Sam nodded and took the shirt from him. "I have no fucking memory of the past three days. How could things be not okay?" He asked and slammed the bathroom door, making me wince.

"Alright, now that we have Sam's candid answer, let's have yours." Dean said slowly and I shook my head, swallowing and heading to the sink in the room.

"Will you help me find a glass?" I asked him, frustratingly opening the cabinets but not finding anything. What the hell was this? A fucking Easter egg hunt?

He leaned against the sink and looked through the cabinets with me, succeeding in finding one and handing it to me. I filled it with the cold water from the tap and took a large sip, like that would somehow wash away the eerie feeling I still had from Sam. Dean just stood by and watched me, not saying anything until I was done and he had my full attention. But I could tell I was worrying him. So I took one more sip of water and put the glass in the sink, facing him.

"Did something happen?" He asked me gently, and I could see the blood leave his knuckles as he clenched his hands. But his face was calm. So either he didn't know he was doing it or he did and didn't care.

I glanced at the bathroom door and shrugged one shoulder. "He…seems off."

Dean scratched his forehead and took a step closer to me, pulling my hands in his. "Why? What did he do?"

"Nothing." I said softly and already felt like a jackass for bringing anything up or for worrying him. "He just made me feel uncomfortable. It's nothing Dean." I said quickly, it drifting out of my mouth like wind before a storm.

He searched my eyes for a moment and then nodded. "If you say so…" He trailed off; he was waiting for me to add something to it. But I shook my head and went closer to him to hug him.

He gently pulled me to him, hands rubbing my back soothingly as I took a deep breath of cinnamon. None of it was reminding me of blood or vanilla or the rugged feel of Sam's face. Dean drew me closer to him as he felt my hands dig into his back as I clutched his leather jacket and buried my head into the crook of his arm. His breathing against my chest, as always, soothed me in ways touching and kissing never would and I found myself relaxing completely in his arms.

Dean pulled back after a moment with a gentle kiss on my forehead. "If that was supposed to confirm my suspicions, congratulations."

Before I could say anything Sam came out of the bathroom, smirked at us, and put his tan colored jacket back on. It was ironic that I had made him change his shirt for the blood, seeing as how he had no trouble putting the jacket back on. I was being paranoid about everything. It made me think Sam had been listening or something because why would it take him that long to put on a shirt?

"Great. I could have killed someone and here you two are snuggling." Sam scoffed and shook his head.

Dean tensed and I could tell by the way his grip tightened around my waist that he was feeling defensive. But for some reason he said nothing about it. "Your room's been quiet." He said instead, proving that he had done some type of research. "Nobody's noticed anything unusual."

"You mean no one saw me walking around, covered in blood?" Sam asked, finding Dean's answer unlikely. He sounded angry and I was actually afraid for a moment that he was going to throw something at me and Dean.

"Look, I don't know what's going on Sam. But you're okay, that's what matters. Everything else we can deal with." Dean said and I felt his fingers rub the skin along my waist. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Sam sighed and leaned against the side wall. "Just all of us in that motel room in West Texas."

"That was over three days ago." Dean said with a scoff.

Sam shrugged. "That's it. Next thing I knew, I was sitting here –- bloody. Felt like I'd been asleep for a month." He glanced at me and his eyebrows scrunched. "What's the matter with you?"

I shook my head and leaned in closer to Dean. "It's nothing, she doesn't feel good. That's all." And why was Dean thinking up lies for me? Oh well, wasn't going to fight that. I hadn't known what to say to Sam anyways.

It was funny how Sam could tell Dean was lying. Sam knew it had everything to do with what happened in the bathroom. But what confused me was how he didn't mention it. Wasn't it what he wanted? To point out how I had touched him? But he didn't and that for some reason unnerved me even more.

"Okay." New topic. "Retrace your steps."

Dean nodded. "The manager said you left yesterday afternoon and never saw you come back."

I shrugged against Dean. "Let's try the parking lot."

O0000o0o00

"Recognize anything?" Dean asked as we walked around the wet cemented parking lot.

Sam shook his head. "Not really."

We kept walking around until we came to a car storage unit. Basically it was like little garages for rooms. Which I thought was odd. What qualified you to pay for a little garage for your car while you stayed in a motel room?

Sam stopped almost abruptly and I nearly ran into his back. "Having a déjà vu moment?" I asked he nodded.

"Try that one." He said and pointed to the one labeled #2. Dean went to go try it but Sam stopped him, fishing around in his pocket. "Wait." He then pulled out a key.

"Did you just realize you had that?" I asked as Sam handed the key to Dean.

Dean went to unlock it and Sam buried his hands in his coat pocket again, turning to scoff at me. "What you think I had it all this time and just refused to say anything about it?"

I looked quizzically at Dean for a moment, who was popping open the lock. "No, I just…I'm not accusing you or anything. It was just a question." Where the hell was this attitude coming from? And why was I the one getting it? Maybe he was upset for the way I overreacted in the bathroom and then went running to Dean like a child. I was upset but I didn't tattle on him or anything. It wasn't that much of a big deal. Maybe Sam had thought I said something to Dean.

"Didn't sound like just a question." Sam indicted, his breath puffing angrily into the air as I heard the garage door slid open.

"Back off." Dean warned, shutting Sam up. He handed the key back to him and Sam rolled his eyes and took it. "We all know you're upset, and you have every right to be alright? But Andy didn't do anything so leave her alone."

Sam nodded and then turned to me, apologizing softly and I gave him a small smile I didn't feel. Anything and everything was wrong with him.

Dean chuckled observing the blue Volkswagen Beetle parked inside in the garage. "Oh, please tell me you didn't steal this."

"I've always liked beetles." Dean raised his eyebrows as we approached the car. I smiled at him. "Not more than the Impala or anything. But I've always wanted one since I could drive."

"Of all the cars you gotta pick something like this ugly thing?" Dean asked me, motioning to the car.

"Would you rather I pick something like a mini van?" I asked, a small smile on my face as I saw his reaction. "You never know if we'll have to pick up our kid from soccer or something."

Dean's grin was vibrant. "So you think it's a boy today?" Dean asked me, turning his attention to trying to pick the lock of the car open. I was hoping there was no car alarm.

I shrugged. "I always feel like it's a girl. And girls can play sports, ya know." I glanced at Sam on the other side of the car, trying to do the same thing.

Dean shrugged. "Never said they couldn't. Although if she's anything like you she won't be able to catch a football let alone kick a soccer ball." He started laughing as I punched his arm. "Watch it! I'm trying to work here."

"Yeah, I can see that." Sam commented dryly but Dean and I ignored him.

I watched Dean fumble with the lock and kneeled down next to him. "I can catch a football, I can't throw one." I said sheepishly. "Let me try."

Dean smacked my hands away and I rolled my eyes. "I got it Kim Possible." I rolled my eyes. I knew he had been up watching Nickelodeon a few nights ago.

"Let me try." I said again and smacked his hands away. He sighed and switched places with me and I worked on the lock, knowing exactly how to turn it.

He leaned down next to me and kissed my neck, which was making rampaging butterflies strike the insides of my stomach. "I figure it doesn't matter what you can do. Soccer moms are an extreme turn on for me." He said heatedly and I grimaced, making him laugh and slide his tongue over a sensitive part of my skin.

"You're gross Dean."

"You both are gross, can we focus on the task please?" Sam asked us irritated.

I grinned, feeling the lock pop. "No need to focus, I got it." I stood and opened the car door, Dean looking a bit annoyed that he couldn't get the lock open himself. I smiled at him and he rolled his eyes as I stuck my tongue out, mocking him ever so slightly. He smiled at that; had no choice really. It'd make him a jackass if he kept pouting over it.

"My kid will totally be able to do that." I giggled as Dean shook his head and leaned over and kissed me.

I unlocked the other doors and Sam opened the driver's seat. "More blood." He said, looking at the steering wheel.

Dean pulled back the passenger seat and sighed. "Sam, backseat."

Sam reached over and picked up a bloody knife and grimaced. It made me want to scream at him. Why pick it up? He'd just have to wipe his damn prints off it now. Or maybe he'd have to do it anyway, seeing as how he could have used it before all this. I shook my head seeing a plastic bag at the bottom of the passenger seat. I had to keep thinking this wasn't Sam. That this had nothing to do with Sam.

"You think I used this on someone?" Sam asked shakily. That sounded like the old Sam.

I scoffed, opening the bag. "Okay, now this is disturbing." I said, taking out cigarettes from the bag. "Come on, Sam, this couldn't have been you." Dean glanced at the package and took it from me.

"She's got a point. It had to have been someone else, somebody who," He sniffed the package, "smokes menthols."

Sam nodded at us but I could tell he didn't think much of it. Dean and I weren't making these goddamn things up. It was like Sam wanted it to be him. To have this whole problem revolve around him. I guess it'd be easier to prove what John had warned Dean about. To acknowledge what every one was thinking but not saying.

I watched him reach over and pick something else up. "Gas receipt –- few towns over."

O0o000o000o0

We headed to the Gas Station but Sam didn't remember anything as we pulled up. The receipt said all he bought was gas but as we went inside to see if anyone would recognize him the cashier went nuts. He exclaimed Sam came in yesterday drunk, grabbed a forty from the fridge and started chugging. I'm pretty sure my mouth was open during the entire conversation and Dean was having similar trouble comprehending that it was Sam the man was talking about. Dean kept pointing to Sam and asking the cashier if he was sure. How could you deny it was Sam when we had an eye witness? Apparently he also took the smokes without asking and threatened to whip the damn bottle he'd been chugging at the guys head. Now, I admit, the guy seemed like a real jackass but whipping bottles and throwing punches seemed like something Dean would do. But Sam? Sam? Finally, after he threatened to call the cops and Sam had to wait outside and Dean paid the clerk more than he should of he told us he took Route 71, straight outta town.

"What's going on with you, Sam? Hm?" I asked Sam quietly, leaning up in between the seats of my two boys as Dean drove. "'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people –- that sounds more like Dean than you."

"Hey!" Dean said, somewhat insulted. "I'm not that violent with people." Sam snorted and I looked at Dean incredulously. "What?" He asked upon the laughter. "I'm not."

Seriously? "Dean, three days ago you nearly pulled Seth out from behind his counter. You were about to kill that guy Paul, possessed or not, when he hit on me and you broke that one guys nose off a bar stool."

"No one is ever going to let that one go." Dean said tiredly and I shook my head. Then a thought occurred to him as he glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "You notice all these violent things have to do with you, right?"

I smiled innocently at him and leaned up to kiss the side of his head. "Stop trying to save me all the time then."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, right. Like's that's gonna happen." He muttered and I smiled. "God knows you can't do it yourself." I then glared at him.

"I can to." I pouted and Dean smiled adoringly at me as he turned his head for a moment.

"Babe, please don't make me run off the list here. You'll embarrass yourself." I re-said the last part of his sentence to myself as I looked out the window, mocking him. "I can see you mocking me back there, ya know."

"Dean, wait. Wait, here." Sam said suddenly. "Turn down that road."

Dean looked at Sam confused. "What?"

"Just turn the car. I don't know how I know, I just do."

Dean turned down the dirt road and the car bounced at its unevenness. We suddenly came to the end of it and it turned onto someone's driveway. There was a house back behind the trees. It somewhat looked like Ronald's house except there weren't steps leading up to the porch and I was pretty sure there weren't high beamers to spot shapeshifters.

We got out of the car slowly and Dean hooked onto my hand as we made our way to the house in the darkness. Without the car headlights no one would have known it was there at night, especially since there was no lights on inside the house. I'm glad Dean was right next to me, I was getting a really eerie feeling as we went on to the porch. A security camera was right next to the front door, you could tell by the little red light blinking slowly in the pitch black. As we got closer to the door the porch light turned on immediately, I'm guessing some sort of sensor.

"Someone doesn't like surprises." I said quietly as I glanced at the camera.

Dean squeezed my hand. "Should we knock?"

Sam shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

Sam stood next to Dean and knocked on the door. I glanced around the side of the house and let go of Dean's hand to look around. I found a shattered window and scoffed. "Hey guys." They came around to see what I had found. "Apparently the last visitor wasn't too keen on knocking. I'm surprised the cops didn't show. A place like this, you'd think they'd have an alarm." I said, looking at the camera and then at Dean and Sam.

Sam glanced farther down the wall and motioned to an electrical breaker box that had been disconnected. "Yeah, you would."

O0000o0o0o0o

We entered through the window and I took out a little flashlight from my pocket to look around the rooms. We found nothing upstairs and almost nothing downstairs. We finally had one more room to check and I wasn't quire sure why I had been using a flashlight when Dean had told Sam to hit the lights when we went into the room. Had I been the only one worried about the lights being on? I mean, I guess I shouldn't have been since the cops weren't on their way and this place had no neighbors. I pocketed the flashlight and shrugged; why not. I waited for Sam to flip on the light switch.

Sam gasped and my eyes landed on a man on the floor, face down and covered in blood. Dean looked straight at me before he moved foreword.

"You alright?" He asked me and I nodded, even though my mouth was sour and my stomach lurched. "You sure?"

"Just check him." I said annoyingly and he sighed, heading over to the man and slowly turned him over. The entire right side of his face was covered in blood. And there was also blood covering his body and splotching the white carpet.

Sam looked at Dean and I worriedly. "Guys, I did this."

"We don't know that." I said and decided it was the last thing I was going to say while I was in here or I was going to lose my hold on the contents of my stomach.

"What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood—"

"Look, even if you did do this, I'm sure you had a reason –- self-defense, he was a bad son of a bitch, something." Dean said, standing and looking around the room. Which is what I decided I should be doing instead of staring at the blood until it gave me the incentive to hurl.

"I need your lock pick." Sam said suddenly and Dean threw it to him, not really paying attention to why he needed it.

Dean came closer to me as I examined parts of the guy's desk, trying to ignore my stomach's bitching and the tangy taste in my mouth that reminded me of blood.

"His name was Steve Wandel." I said softly as I found a letter on his desk. I read through it and shook my head, throwing it on the table. "This is a letter from his daughter."

I closed my eyes and gripped my stomach as the room started spinning counterclockwise. "Hey," Dean said suddenly, grabbing one of my shoulders. "You gonna be okay? You shouldn't have stayed in here."

"It's nothing, I'm just a bit dizzy and nauseous. It's normal."

"Come on, go outside and sit down. Lay your head back and close your eyes for a minute or two."

I shook my head. "I can sit when we get back to the car." Dean looked at me, unsatisfied with my answer and I rolled my eyes. "I won't throw up in your car Dean."

"That's not what I'm worried about and you know it." Dean argued.

"Dean." Sam said suddenly, interrupting my next answer that sounded a lot like no again.

"What?" Dean barked, annoyed with me and a whole lot of another emotions that had to do with Sam.

Dean and I turned to look at what Sam had opened with the lock pick. It was the guy's closet. But it wasn't just any other closet full of work ties and belts. There were large guns and addition the walls were covered in maps and research.

"Oh God." I said quietly. "Either this guy's a Unabomber—"

"Or a hunter." Sam finished and closed his eyes for a moment. "I think I killed a hunter."

"Let's find out." Dean said and I saw him looking at the camera in the corner of the room. Sam took the disc from the camera and popped it into one of the computer drives.

"Here, sit down." Dean said gently, sitting me in the chair. I nodded and rubbed a hand over my face as he came up behind the chair stood. I leaned my head against his torso and closed my eyes, waiting for Sam to open up the video stream.

The stream finally loaded and I glanced at the screen, shocked at what was on it. Sam was pushing the man into the room we were in kicking him and hitting him for all his worth. The man was trying but Sam was too fast and kicked him down every time he tried to get up. I saw the knife glitter in Sam's hands and gasped as I saw Sam run at the man like he was an animal, forcefully stabbing him over and over. I shook my head and closed my eyes, feeling Dean lean down and give me a slow kiss on my head. His breathing was heavy and worried against my hair as I heard the video come to an end.

"How do you erase this? Huh?" Dean asked suddenly, his fears confirmed and his anger present. "Sam, come on, I need your help."

"I killed him, Dean." Sam stated monotone. I shook my head into the palm of my hand. "I just broke in and killed him."

"Listen to me." Dean said suddenly. "Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are gonna come looking for his killer, which means we've gotta cover our tracks, okay?"

I shook my head, my stomach filling with panic. Sam said nothing and I got up from the desk, knocking the computer onto the floor with one push. It shattered onto the ground, little sparks of electricity flying into the air as it died. I looked back at Sam, who was shocked and Dean cleared his throat, handing Sam a rag.

"Wipe your prints, then we go."

Tears built up in my eyes as I thought about the hunter, the daughter, the letter and Sam and the blood. Dear fucking God all the blood. I grimaced and left the room, holding onto my stomach. I found a couch near the front door and sat there, burying my head in my hands. Tears came coursing down my cheeks as I thought of the daughter and how she wouldn't have a father anymore. How she probably didn't know what he really did for a living. How'd she'd never know or carry out his legacy. How screwed Sam was. Hell, how screwed I was. This was it. This was the point in time where everything tail spinned.

I felt someone gently take a seat next to me. I knew it was Dean. I could tell by the way he gently stroked my hair and tried to get me to sit up so he could see my face. When he finally realized I wasn't going to, he took one of my hands instead, pulling me towards his chest. I collapsed into his shoulder, my soft small cries shaking him. I shouldn't have stayed in that room. Although, I couldn't tell if me seeing it first hand or one of the Winchesters telling me what Sam had done would have been easier. Probably neither.

O0o0o0o0o0

We drove back to the motel in silence. I insisted Dean could drive but he wanted to sit in the back with me. How could I argue that? I felt much better knowing he was right there anyways. So I let him and he held me as we drove back to the motel. I felt bad that Sam was the one who had to drive, seeing as how nothing had had happened me and I was the one getting comforted. I should have been driving and Sam should have been passed out in the backseat, dreaming dreams that scared his day mares away.

Dean and I loaded the bags inside the motel room. Well, I tried to but Sam took them from me as I got past the first flight of stairs. How come everyone used the pregnancy card for me?

"All right, we get a couple hours of sleep, then we put this place in our rearview mirror." Dean said and plopped the bags on the floor near the bathroom.

Sam scoffed, tearing off his jacket. "Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean. That's what I did."

"Can we please not yell?" I asked them quietly and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Dean, the Yellow-Eyed Demon –- you know he has plans for me and Andy." I shook my head as my name sounded like ice out of his mouth. "And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too."

"No one can control you but you." I said heatedly and stood next to Dean who was in front of Sam.

Sam glared at me. "Look, I know you of all people don't want to hear this. But its true. Because what happens to me is some how tied into what happens to you." I shook my head angrily clenched my fists.

"Shut up, Sam!"

Sam now looked to Dean. "Dean, you promised him. You promised me."

"No. Listen to me. We're gonna figure this out, okay?"

Sam shook his head and I saw him take out a gun from the bag near his bed. Tears were threatening my eyes again and I wanted to hit him. One big sock to the face that created a bruise that reminded him how stupid he was being. "What is this?" I asked him. "A fucking soap opera? Put that away."

He handed the gun to Dean and Dean stared at him and at the gun for one long heart wrenching moment. "I don't wanna hurt anyone else." He said brokenly. "I can't bare to hurt you or Andy." Didn't he understand he was hurting me by doing this? "Here, you've gotta do it."

Dean shook his head, the answer simple and sweet. "I can't. I'd rather die."

He dropped the gun on the floor and Sam looked at it a moment before picking it up. "No. You'll live." He suddenly turned it towards Dean and before I knew what he was doing he said something else. "You'll live to regret this." He swiftly knocked Dean out with the butt of the gun and I gasped looking up at Sam, who smiled evilly at me.

I was worried about Dean but I knew that I wouldn't be able to help when Sam had a gun. So I tried running to the door but Sam caught up with me easily, wrapping a strong arm around my waist and jolting me back against his chest. I coughed against his hold as it knocked the wind out of me. His one hand suddenly came up around my throat, squeezing to the point where black dots covered my vision.

"Shh…" He said, soft and slowly into my ear with a grin firmly on his face. "Did you know that any type of trauma the mother goes through can be extremely dangerous to the baby?" I coughed and struggled against his hold and whimpered as I felt his lips trail down the side of my neck. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not real concerned by that fact."

He suddenly took the back of my head and slammed my forehead into the doorjamb of the main door. Pain filled my head and blackness coated my vision. The last thing I saw was Dean face first on the ugly carpeted floor and the last thing I felt was Sam's lips on my head.

o0o0o0o0o0o

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