3 Weeks Later: Ryan

"You need to eat something, darlin'," Samuel nudged Ryan as he pushed a sandwich in front of her.

He'd said it in a gentle tone, but she knew he might as well have been demanding it. When Grandpa told you to do something, you just did it. Samuel Campbell had been resurrected along with Sam and Ryan, except he'd been pulled down instead of pulled up. He'd been taken out of heaven, and for a reason that none of them could seem to find.

"I'm not hungry, Mr. Campbell," she replied respectfully, hoping that he wouldn't nag her anymore. She knew that all he wanted was for her to be healthy, but she had no desire to eat. She had no desire to do much of anything. When she felt herself on the verge of passing out, she made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. But other than that, her stomach remained empty apart from shots of tequila.

"I know you're not hungry. But the fact of the matter is, if you don't put something in that stomach of yours besides hard liquor, you're gonna end up in the hospital."

Ryan rolled her eyes, grudgingly took a bite of the sandwich, and with cheeks full of peanut butter and jelly, smiled. "Happy?" she asked, her voice muffled by the food.

He smiled and shook his head. It was typical behavior for her. Satisfied, he left garage, and Ryan relaxed. She finished the bite she'd taken and pushed the sandwich as far away from her as she could.

Everyone around her did nothing but frustrate her. Especially Sam, who would constantly tell her what to do and fight with her when she tried to push against his newfound authority. She'd dealt with Lucifer's bossy ass inside of Sam for way too long. She wasn't going to deal with actual Sam telling her what to do on earth.

Ryan looked around the shack, realizing that she was finally alone. An idea sparked in her head, and she headed toward the back door, nearly tiptoeing by force of habit. Sam's black Dodge Charger was parked a few feet away from the place, and from what she could see, there was no one around. She'd taken a bobby pin before leaving and dug it out of her pocket, ready to use some of the everyday tricks that she'd learned in the beginning of her hunting career.

After unlocking the door of the car, she slid in quietly, making sure not to slam the door and cause any unwanted attention. She attempted to hotwire the car, but every time the engine tried to start, it would stall. Three unsuccessful attempts, and she finally gave up. Sam's face nearly made her wet herself as he leaned down and knocked on the window. Guiltily, she opened the door, folded her arms over her chest, and looked up at him.

"Going somewhere?" he inquired, his eyebrows raised. He knew exactly where she was trying to go, and now he was just patronizing her. She cleared her throat, but said nothing.

"You think I'm stupid enough to leave my car alone, and ready to drive, with you around? C'mon, Ry, you should know me better than that," he teased, raising an eyebrow as he walked away from her.

Son of a bitch.

"One of these days, I'm not gonna care about having a car anymore. Walking to Cicero will get me some sweet calves…" she warned, mimicking his raised eyebrow. "We'll see about that," he said without turning back to look.

He was pretty good at pissing her off.

Frustrated, Ryan walked back into their trashy little hideaway and went straight for the bathroom. It was really the only place where she could get some privacy in the shithole the Campbells' called a home. After locking the door, she turned the faucet onto cold. She splashed some water in her face, hoping to wash away at least a little bit of stress. She didn't like where she was. Not only did she feel like an outsider, but she felt unsafe. For most of her life, there had only ever been one person who could ever make her feel safe. And go figure, that was the one person she was "prohibited" from seeing.

"You think he still loves you?" a familiar voice asked.

It was too familiar. Ryan's stomach tightened as she recognized the voice as her own. But she knew the voice all to well to know that it wasn't really her voice. It had that specific twinge of evil to it that would make it recognizable to her for as long as she lived. She looked up into the mirror and saw her own reflection, making a face that she was not making. It wasn't her. It was Carreau, who had been left in hell when she'd been taken out. She tried to mask her shock, but Carreau would know. She always knew.

"Well, that's all I get? A little jaw drop? Not even a 'Hiya, soul mate! How ya been since I left you down in hell to rot?'" she asked, her dead eyes staring straight into Ryan's.

It was uncanny, no matter how many demons, ghosts, shape shifters or any other kind of monster Ryan had faced, Carreau was still the only one that knew just the right way to scare the shit of her.

"What the hell is this? You're supposed to be dead…"

"But that's the catch, isn't baby? I never die. If you're alive, I'm alive."

"Whatever pulled me out… it left you there." Ryan shook her head as she spoke, trying to shake away everything. This couldn't be real.

"You're right. It did. But guess what? I'm back!" she smiled that devilish smile, causing the hair on the back of Ryan's neck to raise.

"No…" Ryan whispered.

"Yes." Carreau replied, but it wasn't through the mirror anymore. It was right in front of her. Ryan had blinked and then Carreau had appeared. She was looking at herself, just herself with a devious smile and sluttier clothes. Ryan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Everything around Carreau seemed to go hazy, and all Ryan could really make out was the image of Carreau's open hands coming towards her neck. Ryan attempted to back up, but landed against the wall. As she struggled to open the door, Carreau grabbed her hand, thrashed it into the wall, breaking it, and using only one hand, continued to choke the life out of her.

Just as things started to go hazy, Ryan felt a jolt being shot into her left shoulder blade. After falling down and catching her breath, her eyes adjusted and she could see that there was no sign that Carreau had ever been in the bathroom. Her hand was fine, and there was no marking on the wall. She turned around to see Sam with a syringe in his left hand, watching her worriedly.

"What the hell was that?" Ryan heaved, rubbing her neck.

"I think we might have a problem…" Sam said cryptically.

No shit, idiot.