DISCLAIMER: I don't own the original characters or concept. I wish I did. I'd be able to afford gas.

A/N: This one's a tad short, and the next one will have some lemony goodness (it'll probably be a complete meringue) so read this one and then wait for Ch4 if you don't want the lemon flavored rainbow.

Dean groaned and rolled onto his knees, feeling as though an eighteen-wheeler had just plowed right over him.

"Sammy?"

Sam stumbled toward his brother, the burning remains of the gunman's bones smoking behind him.

"You alright, Dean?"

"Yeah," he grunted, accepting Sam's arm to climb to his feet. "Did we get Hop-Along Casper?"

"Yeah," Sam laughed. "Time to go back to Texas."

The smile fell from Dean's face and Sam felt his own gut clench for his brother. Anna had better have a good reason for not calling Dean.

. .>. .>. .>

Anna closed the salt circle around the Shadow-Bear and threw the juniper berries she carried for emergencies onto the bear. John shielded his eyes from the violent white-blue light that shot toward the sky, penning the spirit inside the circle. Anna pulled an impressive blade from its sheath in her boot and sliced her palm, much to John's horror.

She quirked her brows at him and smiled as she allowed a few drops of blood to fall onto the salt. The light changed color and began to spin around the bear. Anna stepped back and whispered a few words in Gaelic, staring intently at the Bear form on the ground. Slowly the creature rose to its feet and met her eyes. The black snout lifted to the sky and a deafening roar echoed throughout the woods. John was confused by Anna's smile as she whispered another small phrase and the Bear's body began to melt away to reveal a human form underneath.

John stared, wide-eyed, at the Indian warrior that was now clearly visible within the circle. John flashed to his wolf form and moved to stand between Anna and the Indian. The warrior smiled and closed his eyes. With a deep breath he raised his arms to the sky and allowed his body to drift apart. The light flashed white across the clearing and John closed his eyes against the glare. When he opened them again the spirit was gone and the circle looked as though a bonfire had burned out.

Anna pulled a kerchief from her pocket, cleaned and sheathed her blade, and then pressed the cloth to her wound.

"Come on," she called to John tiredly. "Let's go."

"What was that?" John asked once they were on the road back to New Orleans.

"Tuskegee warrior would be my guess," Anna yawned. "Looked as though he called on the Bear to help him. Poor thing didn't know that his people were already all gone."

"He was trying to protect his people?"

"From the Great March," Anna nodded.

"Great March? Was it covered on CNN?" John frowned. He couldn't recall any sort of march by the Indians lately. Anna snorted in frustration.

"The Trail of Tears!"

John still had no clue and said so.

"Good God, what are they teaching in schools? The Trail of Tears! When the tribes between Florida and the Mississippi were routed to Oklahoma and beyond into New Mexico by foot and by train." Anna sighed and watched the scenery pass out her window. "It was as bad as the Holocaust. Thousands died on the march, but the worst part was that it happened at all." Anna frowned and turned her gaze to the scenery. "He thought we were there to take his people away. He's at peace now."

Three hours later John pulled up to the airport and another thirty minutes saw Anna and all her gear stowed aboard the Council's private jet.

"You better get that arm looked at in San Antonio," John grumbled.

"It was nice meeting you too," Anna laughed as a flight attendant approached with a first aid kit. "Say 'hi' to Tibbs for me."

"I will," John grinned. "Ciao sexy!"

Anna laughed and settled back to let the woman do her job. Within minutes, she was asleep.

. .>. .>. .>

"Try the other one, then," Dean growled. Sam had tried four keys in the pitch black and none so far had worked. Anna still wasn't home, but right now Dean was more concerned about getting a hot shower and food. A beer would be nice, too.

"Do you want to do this?" Sam turned to face Dean, holding the keys up for his brother to see.

"Just open the door!"

"I'm trying. I can't help it that this house has a million different keys."

"It only has three, actually."

The Winchesters spun around to see a grinning Anna coming up the sidewalk. Dean inhaled sharply at the sight of Anna's skin and hair glowing blue the full moon's light. She seemed thinner than when he last saw her, and the glare of bandages down her right arm brought Dean's temper to the fore.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Anna gave a sheepish smile and stepped past the two men to open the door.

"Beer first, yelling later," she answered.

"The hell with that," Dean growled. Before she could move away, he spun Anna around to face him, holding her still against the wall with one hand pressed to her sternum to limit her movement. "Where have you been?"

"Alabama," she grunted through clenched teeth. Dean's vise-grip on her arm was probably ripping open her stitches, but Anna wasn't about to say anything. Sam, bless him, noticed her pained expression and spoke up.

"Dean, come on. You're hurting her."

Dean froze and gasped, eyes wide. Quickly he released Anna and stepped away.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, exhaling a shaky breath.

"You were scared," Anna replied. "I should have called more."

"Or at all," Dean bit out.

Anna stuffed her hands into her pockets with a sigh, then hissed in pain and bent over, clutching her arm. Her stitches had torn open at Dean's manhandling and her arm was now visibly bleeding again.

"Anna!"

"Annie!"

"Ow…"

. .>. .>. .>

Dean swallowed the last of his Shiner and watched as Sam repaired the stitches just above Anna's elbow. When the bandages first came off, Sam and Dean had both been horrified at the four large gashes that marred Anna's skin and had demanded to know what happened, but Anna had only laughed.

"There's bar's in them thar woods," she had growled in her best imitation of an old prospector. Neither brother had been overly amused.

"How is Thibideaux?" Sam asked in a low voice. Anna's gaze shot to Dean and her heart skipped a beat when she discovered he was watching her, waiting to hear the answer. She winced and looked away when Sam tugged on the thread.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Tibbs is okay," Anna finally answered. "He had a broken arm, so I had to go on the hunt with this jackass, John Genchy." Anna wrinkled her nose. "Actually, he was okay. But the man had sex on the brain. Thank God I'm not his type."

"Oh yeah? What is his type?" Sam laughed.

"Blow up dolls. He doesn't like 'em too bright."

Sam laughed again as he tied off the last stitch and proceeded to wrap Anna's arm in fresh bandages.

"Why didn't you call?" Dean asked as he considered starting another beer. Getting good and drunk had seemed like a good idea for weeks now, but tonight the idea really appealed to him.

"I think I'll just go grab a shower," Sam mumbled as he grabbed the first aid kit and dirty bandages, escaping from the kitchen as quickly as possible.

Anna chewed her bottom lip and plucked imaginary lint from her jeans, trying to find a way to explain. She barely understood herself.

"I missed you," she said quietly. "And I missed him. You would call and I would go to answer, but I couldn't. I was scared." Dean's eyes bored into her and Anna looked down at her lap. "It was like high school, waiting for Eddy to call. I wanted to hear from you, but I was afraid of what you might say." Anna met his gaze, then, and Dean saw disgust in her eyes, disgust at her self. "This is the first time in my life I've ever been a coward, but I can't help it."

Anna lowered her eyes, but Dean thought he saw the glisten of tears. She was scared of them, whatever them was. That couldn't be good. How could Anna be scared and he not – No. That wasn't true. Dean was scared witless, but Anna called to him. Even without the dreams she would have called to him, and Dean wasn't about to let them being scared mess this up. But he wasn't ready to forgive her yet. She had to do a bit of squirming now.

"Tomorrow we'll all head for St. Louis." Dean fought a grin as Anna's head snapped up, her confusion clear in her expression. "Dad called with a job. We'll head that way tomorrow. Reference your system for gargoyles. He thinks we've got one."

Without another word, Dean stood and left the kitchen, tossing the empty bottle into the recycling bin on his way out. Anna stared at the empty doorway for a full minute before she moved toward her computer.