We are back in our motel room with pizza for lunch, Dean and Sam decides to check out the house again tonight. In the meantime, they try to figure out my mystery.

I tell them how only a few minutes will pass after a full day with them. I recount that I don't carry anything back with me. The only time I did bring things over was just the clothes on my back and my lucky bracelet and my pentagram necklace from the night before. They tell me that I was there the entire night, I didn't disappear or anything. I wonder if my body at home would get injured when I get hurt here or vice versa. I guess I will find that out when I get home later, with the rather big bruise blooming on one temple.

"So this means your body stays and your mind comes here," Sam concludes. "Somehow you manage to appear solid here without transporting your physical self."

Dean pokes my shoulder and says, "She's solid, alright."

Sam looks at him with a stern expression, "I would know that, I was the one who carried her from the road to the car and into the room, remember?"

Dean pulls a face before going back to a more serious expression. "So time travel, maybe? What year is it?"

I answer almost immediately, "2013."

"Not time travel, then," Sam says. "Maybe like a different dimension or something?"

"Dimension? Don't be stupid, Sam," Dean says. "The only different worlds available are heaven, hell, purgatory and earth."

"It doesn't feel like a different dimension," I say. "Apart from the fact that I'm now aware of demon hunters, everything seems like the earth I know."

"Maybe there's a reason for you to come here, a purpose or something to fulfill," Sam suggests.

"I'm not aware of anything I'm supposed to do," I say. "I didn't get any instructions before being zapped here."

"Most times, weird things happen for a reason," Sam reasons. "So if we can find out what it is you're supposed to do, you can go home or something."

"Yeah," I nod. "Only thing is that I already did go home. It's like I just woke from a dream or something and went back to reality. And it also feels like that when I wake up here. It's like I have two lives or something and sleep lets me move between them."

"That's seriously weird," Dean says.

Night falls and we are back at the house again. We creep in as quiet as possible and my senses heightens. Dean whispers to Sam to split and that he checks upstairs while Sam goes through the ground floor again. Dean grabs my wrist and tells me to stay close. In the dark, with the knowledge of a creepy death that happened in this house, the place seems a lot scarier than it did during the day.

My nerves are shot and on high alert. I follow closely behind Dean, hoping nothing will pop out behind me. Dean starts waving his beeping device into each room, but I'm not sure of what he's listening for. We reach the master bedroom at the end of the hall. Once we reach it, Dean's device starts beeping crazily.

"Is it supposed to do that?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "It means some spirit has been here. I'm guessing this is where they found the body."

I look around and true enough, the queen sized bed is soaked in blood. Dean walks in cautiously and I follow suit. I shine the torchlight they had given me and I follow the dark stains of blood as they lead off the bed and towards the door.

"The victim tried to escape," I say. "He didn't make it to the door," I observe. There is a splash of blood traveling up the wall halfway between the bed and the door and that ends the path.

"It means he managed to dodge the attack," Dean says. "Usually, they die on the spot."

I look at Dean who is looking at the furniture and waving his device around them. "There's sulphur everywhere so it's a spirit of some sort," he explains. "So now we have to figure out who this killer is and why he is killing people."

I freeze when I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. The footsteps come closer and closer and I back away from the door. The footsteps stop and Sam's voice calls out for Dean.

"We're in here," Dean responds and Sam comes in. "You nearly gave us a heart attack there."

"Sorry," he says, "so what've you got?"

"Sulphur," Dean answers. "Stinks of it."

"Okay," Sam says. "I've some photos downstairs and it looks like the victim lives alone, no family pictures, nothing."

Our discussion is cut short by sirens wailing past. Dean looks out the window until the sirens stop and people start running down the street.

"We should get out," Sam says. "Is the front door clear?"

"I guess," Dean says. "We just have to be real subtle about it. Everyone is going down to the other end of the street."

So we creep out and blend in with the crowd of people gathering at another house. We squeeze in between to get closer. Some police are questioning some witnesses by the side while others are going in and out of the house.

"Come on, I want to take a good look at the body before they take it away," Dean says.

We walk up to an officer who seems to be the one in charge. He stops us and tells us that we can't go in.

Dean fishes out an FBI badge and flashes it at the police. "We're in the FBI, we just heard some commotion and came to check it out," he explains.

The policeman takes the bait but looks at me skeptically, "You look a little young to be in the FBI, missy."

"She's with us," Dean says before walking towards the house.

The policeman lets me pass and I trail them out of the chaos and into the house. We ask somebody where the body is and went to the bedroom. The signs of struggle in this room are strangely similar to the one in the first house. There is a pool of blood on the bed but the body is sprawled on the ground, on hand reaching towards the door. I nearly throw up at the sight of the dead body but I keep it down and force myself to look at the victim.

"The victim is a male, 28 years old," Dean tells Sam and me after talking to the police. "His name's Michael Anderson, lives alone."

Sam crouches next to the body and looks at it. He lifted the head and glassy eyes stared at me. I fight to swallow the tears choking me. I can see the double holes where the victim has been stabbed. The holes are facing different directions. The one in his kidney came from the front and out the back while the one in his chest is the other way round.

I point to the wounds and say, "He was stabbed."

"Yeah," Dean grunts, "Left kidney and the heart."

"The killer must have stabbed him in the kidney first, then the heart when he is trying to crawl out."

"It's weird," Dean agrees, "Whoever or whatever it is could've just stabbed him straight to the heart, but it wanted to see him suffer first."

We are once again in our motel room. Dean is chewing on a burger he bought for supper at the table, bent over the laptop. Sam is sitting on the other bed that is covered in papers and leather bound books.

"Are you sure you don't want to eat?" Dean asks me. "You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine," I assure him. I try my best to look him in the eye. The truth is, I'm starving but the sight of the dead body makes me want to regurgitate anything that goes in my mouth. "I'm just tired," I mutter. I play with my necklace, avoiding eye contact.

"It's the body, huh?" He asks. I stay silent and he continues, "It's like that, the first time is always the worst. You get used to it soon."

"You say it like we're gonna see more dead bodies," I state gravely. I look up from my pendant and he shrugs.

"Wait till you get your first kill," he remarks before taking another bite from his burger. "You'd have nightmares for a week."

"Dean!" Sam nearly shouts. "If you could stop scaring her, that would be great."

Dean sighs, puts down his burger, takes the packet of chips on the table and walks over to sit beside me on my bed. He holds up the arm nearest to me. "C'mere," he says, gesturing for me to come closer. I lean towards him and he brings his arm around my shoulders. "I know it's traumatic the first time, it'll get better."

Silent tears stream down my cheeks as I mourn the death of someone I have never even met. "That's a terrible way to die," I mutter. "The poor guy is innocent."

"Actually," Dean says, "most of the time, the victims aren't as innocent as you think. They could've had dark secrets that they bring to the grave; sometimes they caused their own deaths, summoning scary things they can't control. They brought it on to themselves, mostly. It is a terrible way to die, can't deny that, but I promise you that I'll do everything in my power to not let you die that way. Okay?"

I look up into his eyes, realizing now how green they were, like granny smith apples. I nod and he smiles which crinkles the corners of his eyes.

"Now eat," he says, pushing the packet of chips to me. "You'll feel better."

"Thanks," I whisper and he gives my shoulder a small squeeze before getting up and returning to his work. I eat the chips and felt a lot better almost immediately. After eating enough to tide me till morning, I look around at the two of them buried in their research. "Do you want any help?" I offer to Sam, who is sitting near to me.

He looks up and his eyes turn into sad puppy dog ones. He shakes his head, "No, it's fine. You've been through a lot today. Go to sleep."

I nod and get under the covers. I pull my hoodie tighter around me to keep out the cold and I drift off to sleep.