A/N: I'm incredibly, very sorry for the extremely long hiatus, and my only excuse is marching band and school. Believe it or don't, it's my excuse. But I am sorry for the long wait, and the kind of short chapter.

I empty the magazine of my pistol into the human-shaped target at the end of the range, and quickly reload and empty the next one completely before I clear my gun and put the safety on. Without taking my shooting headphones off, I turn to my left and push a few buttons on the target console, quickly bringing my target back to me.

I look at the holes in it, and see that the larges grouping is in the center, with only a few outliers in the gut and the shoulder. My other grouping is in the head, right in the center of the face, with a few clipping the ears and giving the target a shave on the top of his head. I smile, and pull the paper target down from the mangled cardboard template.

I'm out of fresh targets, and really don't want to spend money on more, so I pack up my gun in its bag, throw away my destroyed targets, and leave. There are three pairs of doors between the indoor range and the lobby to muffle the noise of the gunshots, and as I open the first one, a guy, about 18, maybe 19 years old, steps in the small room with me. I push the button to close the door, suddenly thankful that shooting headphones also significantly muffle the sounds of the souls that I can now hear. Once the door closes, the guy pushes the button to open the middle doors, and we walk through. We pass through the last pairs of doors in much the same way, and I take off my headphones once we reach the lobby.

I close my eyes, and pinch the bridge of my nose, nearly blinded by everyone's souls, and the noise is extremely loud. I take a deep breath, and relax; I learned the hard way that tensing up will only make matters worse for me. After managing to discreetly compose myself, if only a little, I start walking towards the doors of the range to get out and back on the road, but a tap on my shoulder stops me.

I turn around, and see the guy from the range that waited in the doors from the range with me. He is a tiny bit nervous, but super confident, and his body language, not soul, practically screams that he has an ego large enough to go toe to toe with Tony Stark.

I raise my eyebrows, as if to ask him what he wants, and he speaks, "Hey, uh, I saw those groupings on your targets and they were really nice. I was wondering if you wanted to go out later." Little quick on the draw, this guy.

I scoff, "No thanks buddy, you might have better luck with a girl who's actually interested." Wow, I was not expecting that to come out, but I decide to just roll with it, and turn around to continue my trek to the door. At least I get to see the confused, shocked expression on his face before I leave. I guess the ego wasn't as large as I thought.

After I leave, I decide to get some lunch at the local McDonald's. It's really crappy food, but it's better than nothing. Besides, it'll get me to Bobby's cabin where I can get some real food. Well, hopefully get some real food.

I quickly order my food, and it comes out just as quickly. I sit down in the corner of the place, affording a complete view of the room. As I eat my food, I reflect on the past few days.

After the Winchesters and I went our separate ways, I made the mistake of going to the store in town. I needed supplies, but I wasn't anticipating how loud everyone's souls would be. I managed to walk semi-calmly back to my truck after getting everything I needed, which included a sleeping bag, emergency food, ammunition, and other things, before a full blown mental breakdown happened. I was hyperventilating, not knowing what to do, or who to talk to without being either ignored and/or thrown into a mental hospital. Then I remembered that I put Sam and Dean's phone numbers into my phone. I quickly called Dean, who managed to calm me down after a lot of coaxing and shouting, the shouting coming from my side of the phone line. After my breathing and my heart rate kind of evened out, Dean told me to go to Bobby's cabin in Whitefish, Montana, that Bobby might be able to help me with my...ability.

I called Bobby yesterday, and asked him to dig up some information on caro comedenti venom, and the abilities one would get it bit them. He asked what it was for, and I responded that I had a "small problem" and that I was coming up to the cabin, and would arrive in a few days.

I've been driving from Phoenix, AZ to Whitefish, MT for two days now, considering I have to stop to eat and sleep, and I should reach the cabin by tomorrow, around midday. As I traveled, I noticed that larger animals and any plants larger than a bush don't necessarily have souls per se, but do have emotions and a life force that I can detect, much as I can with human souls. I also learned that I can convey my own emotions through physical contact, and that even if I can't hear or see very well at any moment, I can sense souls, like when someone stands right behind me and is looking over my shoulder, and I can sort of sense them there. I can kind of sense souls the same way.

I finish my meager lunch, and throw away the trash, trying my best to ignore the curious vibes I'm noticing from other patrons in the restaurant. They're probably looking at my gun bag, which I cleverly disguised as a small briefcase, but it is a little too small to even the untrained eye. But that is a can of worms I do not want to open, at least not in a McDonald's.

I walk back to my truck, placing the gun bag on the floor in front of the passenger's seat as I clamber into the driver's seat. I pat the dashboard of my truck and smile as the engine roars to life, and find my way to the highway, heading north to Montana.

I reach the cabin in Whitefish the next night, seeing as I overslept at a rest stop, and couldn't gain back those few hours on the road. I knock on the door, and Bobby opens it. I'm a little surprised to see that he's awake, but I guess most hunters don't get much sleep anyways.

"Hey, Bobby," I say tiredly. My pack is unusually heavy on my back, or maybe I'm just exhausted from driving for three days straight with only about 8 hours of restless sleep.

"Hey, Ken. Come on in." He opens the door a little wider to let me in, and I graciously step into the warm, cozy cabin. I thank him, drop my stuff next to the couch in the center of the room, and plop down on said couch, sighing contentedly.

It's quiet here; no crowds, no people, just the plants and animals in the forest. Oh, and Bobby. His soul is calm, considering the life he leads, which surprises me; everyone got into the business somehow, usually involving death. Most hunters are haunted by this until the end of their days, and even though only about three people really know how Bobby started hunting, they aren't telling, and I'm not asking. I'm just surprised that I can't tell what it is with this stupid new ability. Not that I really want to know.

Bobby sits down on the armchair across from me. "So, what is this 'small problem' that you needed me to dig up information on comedenti venom for?"

Good old Bobby, I knew he would see right through my little lie, but I also knew that he wouldn't push the matter until I was ready to share.

"You figured me out," I say. It's more of an observation than a question, but it can be taken both ways.

"Girl, you don't live as long as I have without learnin' a few things along the way," Bobby remarks with a small smile, which I return. "You wanna talk about it?"

"It depends," I say as I sit up from my horizontal position, "Do you want the full version, or the abridged version?" Bobby is one of the few people I can trust with the real story, the others being the Winchesters, who were there.

He shrugs, "We're not going anywhere."

I take a deep breath, and start to tell my tale, everything from the night my parents died, all the way up to when I called him from my truck in a crowded parking lot. I have to stop several times to either quell my anger, or try to stop tears from falling from my eyes. A lot of sarcasm and an unusual amount of drama from me are involved in the telling of my story, and I finish by the time the sun is rising above the horizon. Bobby listened patiently throughout the entire telling, and thankfully kept any reactions that he had to himself.

By the time I finish my account of the story, the sun is just starting to rise above the horizon of the forest. I take a deep breath and lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees, my head hanging between them from exhaustion, eyes closed. I hear Bobby also take a deep breath, and I am surprised that I couldn't hear his soul for the duration of the telling of my tale. I must have been too distracted while telling the story. Now that I focus however, a whirlwind of emotions is swirling through him, but Bobby's face is remaining stoic, and I can tell that he is trying to reel in his emotions, probably because he doesn't want me to freak. Which I'm thankful for.

I hear Bobby take a deep breath, and sigh. He starts talking, and I lift my head up, open my eyes, and listen.

"Why don't you get some sleep Ken, you look exhausted," he says, but I shake my head.

"No, I'm fine." In truth, I'm about ready to pass out, but I don't want to know what my evil subconscious has planned for me in my dreams, especially after recounting everything that happened to me in the past few weeks. "Do you need any help with researching anything, or something?"

"Not right now," he replies, "But I did get some more info on your thing with the souls. Care to tune in?"

"Sure," I say. I lean back against the couch, struggling to keep my head upright.

Bobby has several lore books laid out on the coffee table between us, and explains every bit of information from every single book with some kind of relevance, in about eight minutes. Most of the information I figured out for myself, but one piece of information is new to me: I can see who is a monster, a demon, or an angel. Since monsters don't have souls, their bodies are just empty. Demons look like black smoke, which I knew, but whereas I would see a person's soul as a bright, whitish blue light, demons are black, swirling smoke. And angels are well, bright, like burn-your-eyes-out bright blue light.

I ask Bobby some questions about this, and I learn that I can interpret people more easily, communicate with them better, and other things.

When we finish talking, I have somehow subconsciously curled up in the couch, my head pillowed on the arm of the couch. My eyes are starting to droop closed, and noises are starting to get fuzzy. I feel something soft and warm placed over me as I fall into the world of dreams.

A/N: Ok, so I cannot promise regular updates from here on, but I can promise that I am writing. And since I will probably end this fic within the next one or two chapters, I am open for ideas, just send me a PM. As always, Happy Reading!