Dean was just about to start the truck back up when he heard the blood-curdling scream coming from Jane's house. Without hesitating, Dean was out the door, knife and gun in hand, sprinting up the pathway. He tried the door, but it was locked. Naturally. Dean backed up a few steps then threw his foot against the door at full force, breaking the door open.

He quickly took in the scene before him: Jane was halfway up the stairs, one of the two men in the house following her. The other was standing just below the stairs watching and waiting to see what would happen. Jane had a knife in her hands, pointing toward the man cornering her upstairs. As he had opened the door, the second man turned toward Dean; his eyes still black. Barely a moment had passed before Dean and the demon began to fight. A scuffle and a broken coffee table later, Dean killed the demon. He whipped around to where Jane had been then rushed up the stairs. There was a door to his right and a hallway leading into four other rooms.

"Back off!" Jane's voice was in the nearest room to Dean's left. Her voice was shaking. Dean turned immediately to his left and into the bonus room of the house. Jane was backed up against the far wall, knife trained on the other demon who was slowly advancing toward her.

"Hey." The demon turned at Dean's voice and smiled at him. Then the smirk disappeared from his face. He turned to Jane who was slowly backing away, the knife no longer in her hands. When the demon spun around, Dean could see the knife that Jane had held, sticking out of the center of his back. Dean lunged at the demon just as Jane began to scream. He caught him around the neck, and was just about to knife him like he did the other one, when the demon smoked out, the black fog dispersing throughout the air.

Dean was left holding a dead corpse in his arms and Jane, who was now leaning her back against the wall, sobbing.

"You feeling okay?" Dean handed Jane a mug of coffee that he hastily made in the kitchen. Jane was sitting on her couch in the living room, the glass from the broken table still strewn about the floor. Dean had disposed of the bodies in the garage until he could move them to a place where it wouldn't incriminate him or Jane if they were found.

As Jane took the mug, she only nodded at him. Her eyes were staring straight ahead, her face a blank slate as she took a sip from her mug. Dean sat down on the chair directly across from her and leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs, waiting for her to speak. He had guided her downstairs to the couch before heading back upstairs to collect the man who served as the demon's meat-sack.

After a few more sips of coffee, Jane spoke.

"This coffee tastes like shit." That got a slight smile out of Dean. Sam would have said something like that, Dean thought before he realized what he was thinking. He quickly turned his attention back to Jane.

"So I take it you're okay then?" Jane looks at him then, some of the old ferocity back in her expression.

"I was just attacked by two—"

"Demons" Dean interjected. Jane stared at him then continued talking.

"Demons, was almost murdered, and you expect me to be okay?" Jane took another sip of her coffee. "I hope you're being sarcastic." Her hands were still slightly trembling.

"Well, you're not seriously hurt are you?"

"I'm fine." Was all she replied. They sat in silence for awhile, Jane sipping her coffee, Dean awkwardly staring around the house. Finally, Jane spoke.

"So I believe you now." Dean looks at her. Jane stares back and then down at the floor. "About what you said at the restaurant, the ghosts, werewolves, vampires, demons . . . all of it. Where did you learn it from?"

"Learn what from?" Dean asks. He didn't really want to get into this right now. He didn't want to get into it ever actually. But Jane doesn't pick this up.

"The whole stabbing, killing thing and just about all of it in general. I mean, no normal person knows about this stuff right? Or am I just crazy?" She sets her now empty mug down on the floor beside her couch, resting her arms on her knees, mimicking Dean's posture. Dean sits up, rubs his eyes, and pauses.

"Well, I kind of grew up hunting. My mom died because of a demon and my dad dragged us around trying to kill the son of a bitch who did it. I learned how to kill monsters along the way and I kind of, well, I went dark side for awhile, and then . . ." Dean paused here. He knew he was skipping a lot of the details but he really didn't want to relive them, especially what had happened just a few months back. Jane just waited for him to continue. "Then, I came to my senses and now I'm here." He slouched back down in his chair and waited for Jane to say something. She contemplated what she just heard before speaking.

"Who is 'us'?" If the house wasn't silent before it sure was now. An ant could walk through the living room and they could hear the tiny footsteps.

"My brother, Sam, and me." Jane looks confused at the comment.

"Where is Sam now?" Dean looks away. The only words he can muster up are,

"Sam's gone."

Jane doesn't push it; she knew that tone of voice too well. It was her voice, once. It was how she sounded when she found out her parents weren't coming to pick her up from school that day, it was how she felt when her aunt couldn't come home to take care of them. It was how she sounded when she had to explain that her brother had been killed in Iraq.

She ran her hands through her hair that had fallen out of the messy bun during the fight.

"I'm sorry." That's really all there was to say. Because no matter how hard someone tries to tell you that it's going to be okay, that they are there for you, that your family is in a "better place," you know it's not true. It's not going to be okay, nobody can be there for you like they could. And all you can do is hope and pray that there is an afterlife and that the people you love are in the better part of it.

Dean doesn't seem to acknowledge her. He just gets up and starts to move around, tiding up the living room. Jane sits still for a few more minutes before standing.

"Dean." He keeps working. "Dean." He looks up then but doesn't stop collecting the bigger pieces of shattered glass. "You want a beer?" He smiles then; not a big smile, just one corner of his mouth turned up.

"Sure."

"Okay." Jane turns and walks out of the room and into the kitchen where the booze is hidden under the sink.