Okay, so another long wait for an update. This one is not my fault though because my computer is on the fritz still and whenever I try to get on it says 'cannot connect to server' or 'cannot find modem'. It's nerve wracking.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

A Very Supernatural Christmas
Part Two

The next morning Sam and Dean came to my room because they had gone to the Carrigan's to ask about the wreaths. Ever since Dean had read that book about my condition he'd opted to let me stay asleep when I was sleeping over interrupting my rest. Lack of sleep could cause me to get worse.

So now they were filling me in on what they called the creepy odd couple.

"She says 'fudge' instead of -" Dean started.

"She's an old lady," I interrupted. "She shouldn't be saying what you were going to say."

Sam was using my laptop to…do something - research the Carrigan's or whatnot because, obviously they made a bad impression or something. Dean was whittling a wooden stake - Bobby had called to tell us that was how you killed a Pagan god; stake to the heart. But it had to be from an evergreen tree.

"I knew it. Somethin' was way off with those two," Sam said, clapping his hands together.

"What'd you find?"

"The Carrigan's lived in Seattle last year where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January. All that Christmas crap in their house, that wasn't boughs of holly, it was vervain and mint."

"Pagan stuff?" Dean and I asked.

"Serious Pagan stuff."

"So, what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a Pagan god hidden underneath their plastic covered couch?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "All I know is we've gotta check 'em out."

"What about Bobby? He's sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?"

"Yeah, he's sure."

"So, what's the plan?" I asked.

"We go back tonight," Dean said and then looked at me sternly. "You're coming with us, but you're staying in the car."

"But -"

"Unless we need you," he said. "Gods are powerful, we have no idea how your body will react to it."

I sighed, knowing he was right. "Okay, but I'm giving you fifteen minutes and then I'm coming in."

"Okay. Agreed."

For the majority of the day Dean was making stakes, Sam was researching, and I was thinking about our Pagan god - or gods in general. Where did they get off thinking human sacrifice was okay? And more importantly…why would someone worship something like that, something that said 'sure, I'll do this for you. All you have to do is find me a few people to eat.'

When the time came to finally go to the Carrigan's house I was feeling restless like I normally did when I had to wait for something I didn't want to wait for. So as I was waiting in the car my right leg kept bouncing up and down - it was shaking the whole vehicle.

It wasn't late, but it was dark enough to break in. Maybe, hopefully, since the Carrigan's were older they were in bed already.

I watched Dean used the lock pick on the door and wished them a silent good luck after they went into the house. I waited, fiddled with the radio, then waited some more. I saw movement in the house and from the frame I knew it was Sam.

Suddenly the Christmas lights in the front yard came on. Snowman, reindeer, Santa, whole nine yards. The lights weren't important, though. What was important was that fact that neither Dean nor Sam would've turned the lights on. That meant the Carrigan's were out of bed.

So Sam and Dean were stuck in the house with two psychopaths who worshipped a god who ate people. Awesome.

I sighed and looked at my watch; it was barely after eight, so I'd give them a few minutes and then I'd go and help if they needed it.

Dean had parked at the edge of their street, but the house was still very visible and nothing seemed to be amiss except for the fact that Sam and Dean were still in the house. I didn't think much of it until I heard a faint male scream. That was all it took for me to get out of the car with a stake in my jacket.

I hadn't taken ten steps before I felt something - the god, maybe - and had to stop for a second and assess the situation. I hadn't fallen down this time, but I hadn't felt something this strong since the Trickster, and we'd only thought we'd beaten him.

I got to the house and snuck around the back even though I was fairly certain whatever I was sensing could sense me too. There was someone at the front door of the Carrigan's house so it was easy to get around to the back. Through the kitchen window I could see Sam and Dean tied to two chairs. I couldn't see Dean's face, but Sam looked like he was in pain.

I didn't waste time in unlocking the back door and getting them free. There was a nice sharp knife right there on the table for me to use. Both Sam and Dean had angry looking cuts on their arms and Sam had a fingernail missing.

"How did this happen?" I whispered as they led me out of the room. They knew the layout of the house better so I willingly followed.

"Mr. and Mrs. God," Sam explained. "The Carrigan's are the gods."

"Yeah. I knew there was something wrong with those two," Dean said. "Now what do we do? Our stakes are in the basement."

"I've got one," I said, handing it over.

We had locked the Carrigan's in the kitchen and they were holed up pretty good so Sam and Dean went for the Christmas tree in the living room, which just so happened to be an evergreen. They had two branches torn off in no time. Which was great because the two Carrigan's came in right around that time. The woman actually complained about her tree. I noticed her face flashed a little, distorted into this gray thing and it shocked me so much I couldn't move for a second.

Did all Pagan gods look that way? How the hell did they bring in followers when they looked like that?

The lady god knocked me to the ground and was suddenly choking me. Choking me hard enough to block all passages for air, so my mind immediately panicked. I couldn't breathe! But then suddenly I could again because Dean had staked the lady in the heart and she'd automatically let me go. I pushed her off, out of breath, and Dean helped me up.

"Whoo!" I rubbed my neck until the soreness went away.

The other one had been taken care of already and they were both on the floor, dead, gushing blood from their chests.

"That chick had major grip."

I quickly healed Sam's and Dean's arms, though I couldn't do anything about Sam's missing fingernail. I wondered if it would get infected.

"What do we do with them?" I asked, gesturing to the Carrigan's. "If we leave them here someone will find them and then they'd look for prints and all. Plus your blood is everywhere."

"We'll come back later tonight, grab them, bury them," Dean said.

We got a few hours sleep, did as Dean suggested with the Carrigan's, and then we were off to Bobby's. My suggestion. We would get there by mid-afternoon if my calculations were correct. I dozed off and on in the backseat for a while because Dean didn't have the radio on often because there was only Christmas music playing - one can't jam to Christmas music.

We all three took turns driving and every couple hours we would switch. My sense of direction had greatly improved since I'd been on the road with Sam and Dean. We arrived at Bobby's Christmas morning and I could tell Dean was a little bummed out that we hadn't celebrated. That was until we walked in and Bobby's living room had a Christmas tree in it. Dean just kind of froze for a second, taking everything in. There were even a few Christmas-y things around the room, and the lights on the tree were blinking on and off.

I looked at Sam and we smiled at each other. We had planned this. We had wrangled Bobby into participating - I'd pretty much told him the truth, that Dean wanted to celebrate Christmas and we needed to for him. Bobby hadn't needed much convincing. He said he had the stuff to decorate with and then I'd told Dean I wanted to go to Bobby's and here we were.

It was well worth it to make Dean happy.

We had to endure holiday music for the sake of being in the Christmas spirit. Sam, Dean, and Bobby had a few shots of tequila and I had a beer. I no longer thought of myself as bad just because I drank a little.

Sam and Dean exchanged gifts - Sam gave Dean some kind of fluid for the car and food; something he could use. Dean gave Sam shaving cream and a dirty magazine - maybe Dean was hinting that Sam needed to get laid.

I got Sam an ancient Latin book - I thought it was funny because while he could read Latin, he'd still have to translate; he'd appreciate the brain work. Bobby got a ceremonial dagger - pretty but also usable. Dean got a gift card for the nearest auto shop. He'd been meaning to tune up his car anyway.

Sam and Dean had gotten together some time ago and had a charm made that had their birthstones on it so I could add to the collection on my bracelet. They were both round - one a purple garnet, the other a green emerald.

"You guys…" I shook my wrist and let the charms jingle merrily. "They're so pretty. Thank you."

Bobby gave me something that I was sure would come in handy in the future. A harness strap thing for my calf. It could hold either a gun or a knife and I was happy with it.

Then came eggnog. I think I got one with rum in it because my head began to feel funny after the second cup. It was a good kind of funny, but still…

We stayed up late, enjoying ourselves, but I noticed neither Sam nor Dean would talk about the big elephant in the room.

That night I dreamed I was flying, which was weird in and of itself because I hated flying with a fiery passion.

It was nighttime and I could see the big white orb that was the moon and then I sensed I wasn't alone. I was with three other things. They had wings and I noticed that was the only thing that I could make out clearly. Their bodies were surrounded by wings of almost blinding light.

I spread my arms out, trying to touch, to feel that light. I longed for it, it seemed. There was so much darkness in my life, I just wanted the light back. For some reason I felt that the light was my home and I wanted to go. I would be safe and warm and loved there. And I would be done, at peace. I would be finished.

But then, right when I almost had the light in my grasp, I began freefalling towards the ground. I felt like I was plummeting to my death and I screamed.

I woke up on the floor of my room at Bobby's. I jumped when Dean came rushing into the room, gun at the ready in his boxers. His eyes took a brief look around before they settled on me.

Then…I burst out laughing. I tried to cover my mouth to keep from getting too excited, but I couldn't help the giggles that spewed forth. A panicked Dean in boxers and a gun - couldn't get more comical than that for me.

"What happened? You screamed for help."

I had?

"Oh, uh…I was dreaming. It was just a dream."

"Some dream," Dean muttered relaxing. "How'd you get on the floor?"

"I fell," I said, calming down. "Um…I guess that's why I dreamed what I did. I was flying by myself, no plane or anything. And then I was falling out of the sky."

"Huh. Hope you had a parachute."

"I didn't. I think - I think I had wings, though."

"Okay," Dean said, drawing the word out. "No more eggnog and rum for you."

I smiled. "Yeah, I guess not."

Then I became aware of a pounding ache in my head. "Ow." And then came the need to vomit. Obviously I headed to the bathroom, swallowing convulsively all the while. I made it.

Dean helped me keep my hair out of the way and he rubbed my back soothingly.

"Definitely no more rum for me," I said after I was done.

I washed my mouth out with mouthwash and went back to bed and Dean stayed with me. I hadn't asked, it had just been an unspoken agreement; I felt bad so he stayed. Too bad the flying dream wasn't the only one I had.

I was being chased through the rain up a mountain. It was windy. I didn't know how I knew I was being chased, I just knew I was. And I knew that if whoever it was caught up to me, I would be killed.

I was on a horse, going as fast as I could get the animal to go, and it was killing the horse. I didn't know how to ride a horse so I knew I wasn't me, though I felt like I was the one riding the horse.

I was holding something against my middle - I knew it was a box and I knew I'd stolen it. It bruised me as I rode on. I was aware enough to know this was more than a dream even though I was dreaming it. It felt real, though, like a memory. Maybe not my own.

The road was perilous, with all kinds of twists and turns, and luckily the horse knew instinctively to go where the road led us. I was tired and scared and I could sense the horse was too, but it stayed sharp, it kept going. It kept away from the edge on its own, thankfully.

It began to storm, making everything more ominous and frightening and that was when I realized I had a knife at my side. I looked behind me and saw two people on horses behind me. I knew they were the ones that wanted me dead and I wouldn't let that happen. They wanted what was in the box. I knew that too. Just like I knew they couldn't have it. The fate of the world depended on it. My horse and I made it to a bridge, old and wooden. I knew it would be a mistake to try and cross it, but I couldn't not cross it because it wasn't me controlling my actions. The pieces of wood for the bridge were thinly cut and barely held together, but I needed to get to the other side. I wanted to trap the two following me and make them fall.

In the storm I couldn't see the other side, but I went across anyway. Or the person I was at the moment did. I wouldn't have just for the simple fact that the bridge probably wasn't strong enough to hold. And the two men were smart enough not to follow.

I looked down and was comforted by the fact that if the bridge collapsed . . .there was water below me. Though I didn't know how deep it was or how fast the current would be. And whoever I was, I had foolishly taken the horse with me. I was waiting for the bridge to fall or something. Maybe for the horse to topple over. And sure enough, that exact thing happened. The horse lost its balance and I had to hop off and then I began traveling to the other side. I was going to leave the horse behind. And then. . .I was going to cut the bridge so no one else could cross it. But I had to stop because now I was trapped. There were people on both ends of the bridge.

On one side were the two men on horseback, on the other side was just one man and this one had a gun - a revolver. This man was tall and cruel looking. I sensed he didn't want to have to hurt me, though. He just wanted what I had stolen…maybe from him? But I couldn't give it to him. I'd rather die - or whoever I was would've rather died - and so I cut the rope on either side of me and my horse and I both dropped into the water.

I knew I was going to drown as I went under the freezing water, but I made it to the surface again, choking. I grabbed for a tree branch as I passed because I needed to stay afloat, but then I hit a rock and my head began pounding. I began sinking and held my breath until I couldn't anymore.

I didn't resurface.

I woke up normally - no falling out of bed in sight - and Dean was still asleep. I wasn't going to wake him up just to tell him about my dream, not when I didn't even know what it meant. It could've been nothing, but just in case it wasn't I decided to write it in the journal my dad had given me.

Then I went downstairs and asked Sam, who was already up, if he'd help me look up boxes from the late 1800's or early 1900's, wooden and carved intricately. Probably lost in a mountainous region somewhere.

"Mountainous region? That's vague."

"Well, it's not like I got all the details. It was a dream, but it felt like a . . .memory."

"Like the ghost thing with the little girl?"

"Maybe, except this felt personal. Like I said, like a memory."

"We can try. But it's not much to go on, Aly."

"I know. But these things usually come every time I'm asleep. Or that's how it was last time, ya know?"

"So we'll learn more soon. Got it."

Soon happened to be that night. I dreamed I was in some type of antique collection room. I was standing in front of a glass display case. There was light coming from a candle I was holding and I saw my own reflection in the glass.

My reflection. My eyes, my face, my body. My hair was longer in the dream. I was. . .myself?

There was a crash to my right and the door fell in on its hinges. There were two people there, a man and a woman, both were demons. The black eyes gave them away. I threw my hand up and the guy flew into a bookcase. I was sure if the demon hadn't been in the guy, the throw would've killed him.

The girl came and I threw her back too. Then, somehow, I made the fire from the candle engulf the two demons in flames. I grabbed a thick metal rod from the display case and began to flee, listening to their agony as I went.

I awoke feeling a little drained. Dreams were exhausting. And I remembered the most important part: I'd been dreaming about myself. Or someone who looked like me. I didn't know what I should do, whether I should tell Sam and Dean because we didn't have much else to go on. But I thought I knew someone who could shed some light on the subject.

After making sure Bobby, Sam, and Dean, were still asleep I went downstairs and went outside. I went to the garage and sat down on a tool box and breathed deeply. I was so going to regret this.

"Okay. . .I feel like an idiot doing this, but. . .if you're there Mr. Trickster guy. . .please come. You said you've been watching me, so that probably means you know what's going on. Help me?"

The feeling of unbelievable power came upon me and I was glad I was sitting down. And I'd been right; the Trickster was watching me.

"You know, the last time you asked for my help was over a hundred years ago. But then again, you do have a long memory."

"You mean I have a lot to remember," I corrected with a sort of hopeful tone in my voice.

"That too." The Trickster, the same one who had tried to get me back on track, smirked.

"I'm guessing the dreams weren't so much about the thing I stole, but the fact that I am the one who stole it."

"Yes. Got it in one."

"So. . .What? I was a thief in another life?"

I wasn't understanding anything - had I been reincarnated or something? I guess that would be the word, right?

"You've lived many lives. Different names, same body, same face."

"How? You mean I just live the same life over and over? I die and I come back?"

"When you're needed."

"Why?"

"Someone once told you that if ever the world needed a source of goodness it was now. It is and has been before. The Civil War, the Revolutionary War. You're born during times of crisis. And there's a crisis gong on now. Here you are."

Here I am. Talking to a Trickster. How did I know I could trust him? How did I know he was telling the truth? Was I just supposed to take it on faith?"

What was I supposed to do with this information, assuming it was the truth? I'd lived before, many times apparently.

"Will I remember everything?"

I was seated on the toolbox still, not feeling vulnerable enough yet to stand.

"No. This was a wake-up call. You need to know these things this time around."

"Hm. If I asked how you knew this would you tell me?"

"No," he answered honestly. "You'll find out eventually."

"Hm." I stood up now, but I still didn't feel vulnerable. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but why are you helping me?"

"I've helped you before, why should I not now?"

"I don't know. I was just surprised, that's all. I didn't take you for a champion of the people."

"Shows how much you know," he said simply.

I didn't know what that meant, so I didn't dwell on it. "I don't know what to do with this information."

The Trickster's brow furrowed. "You should probably tell Dumb and Dumber."

I smiled softly. "Terribly witty."

"I thought it was."

"Thank you for coming when I called."

I was being completely serious and sincere. I hadn't been sure that it would work, but it had.

"Don't make a habit of it. I have things to do, people to -"

"Kill?" I asked.

"Humiliate," he corrected. "And don't judge, Missy, it's not for you to do."

"Hm. . .and you picking and choosing between humans, that has nothing to do with judging?"

"No! It has to do with teaching a lesson to the people who think the world owes them something."

The Trickster then disappeared and I shook my head, wondering why I'd called on him in the first place. Something told me that if anything. . .at least I could trust him. At least with this, he had no reason to lie or play tricks.

I went back inside and went to my room. Once there, I noticed a hardback book on the pillow that hadn't been there before. On a post-it note there was written You can thank me later with a smiley face drawn on it. P.S. No tricks.

I scoffed and opened the book hesitantly - for all I know it could pull a Harry Potter and pull me inside it. The chapters went by years - there were a few chapters that even had B.C. behind the numbers. Before Christ? No way. That had to mean something else in this book. Who'd written it anyway?

Murphy. Jim Murphy. Pastor Jim? The one who had told my dad about demons and the like? What, had his whole family known about me? They'd been keeping up with me? I was comforted by the fact that the title was Journal of Jim Murphy. It was handwritten, not published. But as I began reading I realized it was history of me. He'd been studying me before he'd died, been killed. And the Trickster had been telling me the truth: I seemed to be around during times of crisis. Not just in America, all over the world for different reasons.

Apparently I hadn't been careful enough when I'd helped people because there had been countless witness over the millenniums about a strange, pretty girl healing the wounded in wars or helping turn the war to someone's favor.

I shook my head - this couldn't be right, not for real. I couldn't have lived over and over and not know about it. That wasn't possible. And if it was. . .what was I supposed to tell Sam and Dean? This was huge, so I couldn't not tell them, but what would they think? How would they react. I myself was in a state of disbelief, because this just couldn't be true. People didn't get to live more than one life. So I would hold off on telling the guys until I could make sense of everything.

Okay, so I promise I'm going somewhere with the whole 'she lives over and over' thing. It will make sense when I'm done with this arc of her story. I kinda hate that I'm making her keep things from the guys but I don't think this is something they could just take in stride, so...she needs to know more first. Oh, and the reason I added in Bobby was because I thought he was missing from that episode since he is kind of like a father to the guys. Hope you enjoyed and as always review if you want to let me know what you think.

P.S. I've been writing and I'll update when the computer decides to let me. LOL (I hate technology, but it's a necessary evil)