Hey guys! Thank you so much for the continued support and love, even though I have majorly been sacking. You guys are amazing beyond words! I just wanted to announce that I finished grad school! YAY! So I was finally able to sit down and write this chapter for you wonderful people. This is part 1 of 2 for this episode. I split it up differently…the normal print is what's happening more in the present and then the italics will be what happened previously, leading up to that moment. So there's a little jumping around, but I think it will make sense as you read. If not, let me know! I can't wait for you to see what I have cooked up for the second part.

Read, Review, and ENJOY!

Tensions had been higher than ever. The air in the car literally felt thicker than normal, like at any given moment one of us was going to suffocate from all the anger. Not like I considered that a bad thing. I was momentarily complacent just thinking that my anger vibes were physically making it harder for my brothers to breathe. There was comfort in imaging that this ride to the next town had been just as painfully awful for them as it was for me. They deserved that. No, Dean deserved that...and so much more.

The second we pulled into the motel parking lot, I think there was a collective sigh of relief that freedom from one another was near. Dean pulled into a spot off to the side of the reception building, but before he even had a chance to turn off the engine, Sam was already halfway out of the door and practically running for the lobby, presumably to get us a room and run away from the anger that was sure to explode in this car. Quickly following suit, I placed my hand on the handle and began to pull on it, but Dean's voice stopped me. "You. Stay." He didn't even have to turn around. Those two words were enough, each their own full-impact independent sentence. It defied all grammatical rules known to man, but there was no questioning the power behind it. There was no discussion. There was no option to run unless I wanted to be tackled in the parking lot (live and learn). I had known this discussion was going to happen, but I had never imagined it would go down when we were both still fuming in anger. I felt like a trapped kid again and this time it wasn't even my fault. I was the one who was pissed beyond belief, because Dean was a royal jackass. The King of all Jackassery known to man, woman, and supernatural kind.

I reluctantly let go of the handle and threw my back against the seat, crossing my arms in some poor attempt to show defiance. Well screw him. Fine, I stayed in the stupid confining car, but I'd be damned if he thought I was going to talk about anything. As I stared through the front windshield, anger slowly began to blur my vision. This would have been the perfect moment for my superpowers to come, because then I could shoot some well-deserved daggers at the bastard.

How exactly had it come to this? Well, let me start from the beginning.

After overhearing my brothers' conversation about me and what they thought was going on, I knew I had to tread lightly, which was exactly what I was going to do. We were back on the road again in rural Nebraska, not really sure where we were heading, but that didn't matter because no matter what, cases always seemed to find their way to us.

We had pulled over to get some gas, and I was standing in a disgustingly green, moldy hallway, waiting on Sam to come out of the bathroom. He seriously takes longer than I do and it was slightly ridiculous. Dean's heavy footsteps echoed around the corner, surely coming to demand that we hurry up. He seemed so focused on his mission that when he rounded the corner, his eyes landed right on both of the closed bathroom doors, completely missing the fact that I was standing on the other side of the hallway. Careful not to move or even breath too loudly, I just let the scene unfold.

"Hurry it up, there's other people waiting," Dean lied, banging on the woman's door multiple times. Before he even had a chance to pound on Sam's door, the door opened, revealing a not-so-happy woman. She pulled back the door completely, revealing her heavily built, muscular body that was probably close to Dean's height. Her black pants and leather vest led me to believe she must be the owner of the Harley Davidson I saw out front. She took a step out into the hallway and looked Dean up and down, as if trying to size him up and decide where to punch him first.

"Excuse me?" she hissed, lips pierced.

Unable to hold it in, I chuckle escaped past my lips, causing both of them to turn in my direction. Dean's eyes first went wide in shock that I had been there all along and then his gaze turned back to annoyed. Clearly we didn't want any trouble, so he calmly replied, "Uh, sorry, see, I thought it was her and—."

Her eyes narrowed deeply before she threatened in a low voice, "Don't let it happen again." Then she turned on her heel, brushed past Dean (nailing him in the shoulder purporsefully), before she finally stomped her way around the corner.

Seeing scary lady was out of sight, I let the laughter fall out. Dean took a few steps over to me and smacked my arm. "You could have stopped me, dipshit," he said, playfully annoyed.

"You're right, I could have, but watching you make an ass out of yourself is much more entertaining," I replied, smiling.

Bitter, he walked up to the men's bathroom door and raised his hand to pound on it, but stopped before he made contact with the rusted metal. Without even turning around, he threw back at me, "Sam is in here, right?"

"Yup," I answered, popping the p at the end. I wish he hadn't been in there because it would have been so much icing on the cake.

Seeming to trust my response, instead of knocking on the he went ahead and opened it, saying, "Sam, come on, zip it up. Let's hit the…"

I was about ready to burn my eyeballs out when he opened the door, because I wasn't sure what to expect on the other side. Thankfully Sam was at the sink, but he was hunched over and breathing heavily. As he succumbbed to his own body weight, Dean was immediately by his side, trying to hold him up as I rushed in behind him.

"Sam, are you okay?!" I all but yelled, hoping to get some sort of response out of him. As Dean struggled to keep him from falling, I moved over to his other side and grabbed on to his upper arm, trying to steady him. The last time he had went down like this was sometime last year—and it was from one of those freaky psychic vision things he used to have. I thought he had grown out of that phase, but as he was crouched over holding onto his head with a immense look of pain radiating all across his face—I'd say we weren't past that phase yet.

~X-X-X-X~

Sam, being the ever familiar Sam that he was, insisted that we look into it and find out who this mystery guy shooting up a store was. After a brief discussion, Sam decided that the Roadhouse would be the best place to go. We packed up and hauled ass through the night to get there so Ash could help us, since apparently tech boy Sam was incapable of being useful. However, it was all good. Ash was way faster than Sam anyway, not to mention I'd get a free chance to mess with Dean again.

Once inside, we made our way to the back, standing in front of Ash's bedroom door, which was clearly labeled that "Dr. Badass" was in. Oh, he was clever.

"Ash? Hey, Ash?" Sam called as he banged on the door.

When there was no response, I rolled my eyes and shoved Dean aside so I could stand in front of the door and knocked on it with authority. "Hey, Dr. Badass?" Geesh, learn to read the sign.

Suddenly the door unlocked and Ash opened it only slightly, revealing a part of his naked body that I had never EVER wanted to see. Before I even had a chance to let out a disgusted laugh and avert my eyes, Dean had wrapped his arm around my neck, pulled my head into his side, and turned both of us away from Ash, blocking any possible sight of him, which I was actually thankful for, but where was the fun in that?

"Sam? Dean? Kate… ah, my queen has returned," he greeted.

I shoved against Dean's chest, trying to break free from his hold. As we continued to struggle, Sam coughed awkwardly and tried to get down to business. "Hey, Ash, uh, we need your help."

"Well, hell then. Guess I'll need my pants," Ash announced. Finally, I was able to break free from the overgrown moron, just in time to meet Ash's gaze. "Or maybe pants are optional tonight?" he wondered out loud. Before he was even able to look me up and down, Dean grabbed the handle and slammed the door in his face, before shoving me towards the main room. "Pants it is then," he muttered from behind it.

"Oh come on, Dean. Don't go and ruin all my fun," I joked as he lightly shoved me to move faster.

"You're not allowed to have fun," he threw back, his eyes slightly narrowed. Ah, bugging Dean was my new favorite hobby.

Not too much later, a fully clothed Ash came out with his crazy, homemade, wire-filled computer, tossing it down on the bar beside Sam on my right. Not wasting another second, Sam took out his hand-drawn sketch of the bus logo from his vision. While they were busy talking business, Ellen came up to Dean and me. "Can I get you guys anything?" she offered.

Wanting to see just how far I could push Dean's buttons, I replied, "Glass of tequila, por favor."

Ellen didn't say anything, but her eyes quickly went to Dean, as if searching for some kind of confirmation of approval. I had expected some kind of sarcastic remark, a smack on the back of the head, something, but instead he simply added, "A beer for me, and we'll each take a burger."

"Coming right up," she replied, leaving to go to the kitchen to put in the orders.

That rat bastard had ordered me food without even mentioning it before. I looked over at him, and before I could even tell him that I wasn't hungry, he explained casually, "We haven't had dinner yet, and trust me, you don't want to be downing tequila on an empty stomach."

Oh, he was good. Really good. Better than I had ever given him credit for. He was stealth and so nonchalant about everything. He'd let me order alcohol like it was nothing, knowing it would be hard for me to argue with his stupid hamburger logic afterwards. I knew that he knew, but he didn't know that I knew that he knew. So somehow in this situation, I felt like I had the upper hand of knowing who knew what. He was on top of his game, which meant I had to get my shit together asap because I had been avoiding food for so long that there was no way I wanted to jump back into eating on this spur of the moment. I wouldn't. No, I couldn't. If he thought force-feeding me a burger would fix this, he was way off.

~X-X-X-X~

Ash was able to work his magic and found the bus logo in Guthrie, Oklahoma. Seriously, who comes up with these town names?! Anyway, Sam then convinced him to search that town for any house fire on the night of the kid's 6-month birthday. I guess we were now offering up all kinds of details and information. That wasn't suspicious at all. Finally after being offered beer as payment, Ash announced he'd be back in 15 minutes with our crazily specific information.

Meanwhile, Ellen had come back, placing each of our burgers and drinks in front of us. Noticing that Sam didn't have any food, I spoke up, "Hey, I'll split mine with you."

Sam offered a small smile and replied simply, "No thanks. I'm good, you eat up." Well, damn their tag team effort.

Feeling very defeated that Sam had turned down my offer, I returned my gaze to the unwanted enemy—the hamburger. The bun was full of tiny little seeds, just staring back at me, each one laughing in mockery. Sure, I had eaten every now and then, but now that I had annoying brothers on either side of me, anxiously waiting for me to gobble it up, it was different. I wanted the food even less than I had before.

Figuring alcohol might ease the eating process, I reached up to grab my glass, but Dean's quick reflexes intercepted before I was able to grab it. "Dude!" I protested, watching as he placed it on the other side of his own plate.

"It's for your own good," he explained lightly, hidden meaning written all over those words. Unable to miss my perturbed glare, he continued, "I don't need you puking in my car. Now, eat first and all-you-can-drink dessert later, got it?"

After giving him my best stink eye, I returned my gaze to the plate. I didn't want to let on that I knew that they knew what I was hiding. So I had to act natural. And a normal, natural person would pick up the burger and eat it. So I did just that. I slowly grabbed it and took a small bite to get them off of my case. The taste was so foreign to me, I almost wanted to spit it back out. But I had no choice.

Once they were sure that I was slowly but surely eating, they started up a conversation about the case and what our next move was. I interjected some thoughts into the conversation to make it seem like I was paying attention, when in reality I had other plans forming in my head. I had managed to finished half of the burger, which was essentially my limit nowadays. I made sure Dean had already finished his before I executed my plan. I leaned up in my chair and reached over his plate to grab my drink, but making sure my other arm managed to knock the burger off the backside of the bar. It went tumbling off of the counter and landed in a heap on the not-so-spotless-clean floor. While Dean was distracted by the misplaced burger, I was able to grab my glass and take a large gulp before it was ripped from my hands. His face demanded an explanation. "It was an accident. Wouldn't have happened if I'd had my drink this entire time!" I shot back, refusing to take blame for an 'accident'.

Dean was about to say something, but Ash threw open the doors and came marching up to the bar again, papers in hand. Dean threw me one last glare that basically read "I'm watching you," and then we all turned our attention to Ash, who was able to find a match for us. Not wanting to waste another moment, we peaced out and started our journey to Guthrie through the rest of the night in hopes of arriving by morning to start our manhunt for Andy Gallagher. Wanting to avoid any chit-chat with Dean and Sam, I pulled the whole "I'm tired" card and fake slept in the backseat for the entire drive, which greatly worked to my advantage because the next morning I was told to just wait in the car while they went into the restaurant where Andy used to work and posed as lawyers. Since I had slept through their detailed briefing of the plan for this case, I was deemed unfit for working. That meant no formal clothes, lying through my teeth, and I got to relax and sprawl out across the backseat again. This was a win for sure.

~X-X-X-X~

The sun was shining in through the back window, keeping my body warm on this mid-fall day. I had just gotten cozy when an abrupt, loud thump sounded on the roof, causing me to shoot up and suddenly become alert to my surroundings. I grunted and laid back down when I saw Dean's stupid smirk outside the window. "Where's Sam?" I asked as he got into the car and started it up.

"Following the guy who supposedly dies." Yeah, of course he was. Because that's the kind of strange work we do.

"Oh." Before Dean had a chance to stop me, I essentially tucked and rolled myself over the back of the seat so I could be up front now, full on co-pilot position.

"Seriously?! Come on!" Dean complained, banging his hand on the steering wheel for 'extra' emphasis. "Can't you use the damn doors!"

I settled myself into the seat before commenting, "Shortest distance between two places is a straight line, Dean." Geesh, getting out, closing the door, walking 3 steps, opening the door, sitting down, closing the door—what a complicated process for 8am. "Don't worry, I made sure my shoes didn't touch the seat," I added proudly, as if that would make it better that I hadn't broken a rule.

"Yeah, well new rule—no freaking monkey climbing over seats," he bit, putting the Impala in gear, trying to inconspicuously follow a van that had just pulled onto the street.

"That's Andy's?" Seriously, a van with a barbarian queen riding a polar bear painted on the side belonged to the killer? Huh. He must be some new-age hippie killer or something then.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"Well that doesn't exactly scream 'killer' to me," I offered.

"That's why we're following him, dipshit." Ah, the sibling love.

We traveled behind Andy across town, unsure if he was actually going anywhere or not, but he suddenly stopped on a back street and got out of his van, heading in our direction. "Stay cool," Dean commanded in a low voice as he grabbed the gun off of the seat and tucked it into his jacket. Well that went without being said—clearly I was cool 24/7, but whatever.

"Hey," Andy greeted cheerfully as he appeared in Dean's window.

"Howdy," I greeted back.

"Sweet ride you got here," he said, checking out the interior of the car. "'67? Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic." Um, was this guy like fangirling the car or what? I didn't need another one of those people around.

"Yeah, you know I just rebuilt her too," Dean gloated. I swear I literally saw his chest swell in pride as his smile grew. Like a proud moron. Seeing no imminent threat, he let go of his gun and sat more comfortably in his seat.

Possible murderer guy was intrigued. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, can't let a car like this one go," Dean added.

And then the unexpected happened. "Damn straight. Hey, can I have it?" Andy asked, so plain and simple. I had to try and stifle a laugh at the sheer dumbness of that question. I had asked the same one on numerous occasions and I was rejected time and time again. But apparently this guy was a lucky charm because there was no yelling, fighting, or gunshots. Dean just up and handed over his car.

"Sure man," he replied like he was happy to give the car to him. He appeared to be A-OK with everything.

"Dean!" I protested, but was completely ignored as he got out of the car and waited to close the door once Andy was in the driver's seat.

I was completely at a loss for words and before I had a chance to come up with something coherent to say, Andy turned to me and asked, "You're cool if I take this car for a spin alone, right?"

I wasn't able to even fully process the question before I replied, "Go right ahead," and got out of the car myself. Even though I knew that was the wrong thing to do, I had no control over what I said or did—it was like something had momentarily possessed me, forcing me to comply.

"Take it easy," Andy threw back at us as he put the car in gear and slowly started to drive off.

We both stood there in the middle of the street, watching Andy drive awat in our car. "Dean!" I yelled again, approaching him.

"I know!" he snapped, equally confused and frustrated.

"What the hell just happened?" I demanded, expecting him to have a better idea than I did because I had nothing.

"I think he full on obi-wanned us. It's freaking mind control, Kate," he explained, exasperated as his breathing began to increase.

"No shit, Sherlock. I kinda figured that one out on my own."

Ignoring me, he continued breathing heavily, full on panic settling in. "He's got baby!"

As Dean was having a mental breakdown, I had enough sense to call Sam. Turned out he wasn't able to stop the guy and Dr. Jennings died anyway—got hit by a freaking bus, poor guy. But suspiciously, Sam had seen Andy drive by in the Impala, talking on the phone at the exact same time the Doctor was talking and walked in front of the bus. And now that we knew first hand that he had mind control powers, I think it was pretty obvious what went down.

We regrouped with Sam, who was solemnly sitting near where the dead body was. It wasn't hard to miss the anguish, guilt, and sadness plastered on his face as we knelt down beside him. "I kept him out of the gun store…I thought he'd be okay. I...I shoulda stayed with him," he confessed, his voice full of sorrow and regret.

"Sam, this isn't your fault," I comforted, placing a hand on his shoulder. This poor guy was beating himself up. Ever since he got this idea into his head that he's got something dark inside of him, he's been on a quest to prove that he's still good. I was never sure who he was trying to prove it to because Dean and I were always on Team Goody Two Shoes Sam all the way. I think he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

Sam just shrugged my hand off of his shoulder and stood up, taking a few deep breaths to prepare himself. "Let's go," he said flatly, starting to walk away from the crash.

Well now that we had found Sam, it was time to find the final member of the family a.k.a. The Impala. After walking down Main Street, Dean spotted it parked on a side road. Thank every deity out there that we found the Impala in one piece—even with the keys in the ignition because all hell would have broken lose if anything had happened to her. "Oh, I'm so sorry, baby. I'll never leave you again," Dean practically cooed, running his hand over the hood. Vomit.

"Well we know that he can't work his mojo by twitching his nose. He's gotta use verbal commands," I offered, now returning out focus to the main case at hand—getting to the bottom of this Andy mystery.

"Yeah, the doc had just gotten off of the phone before walking in front of the bus. I'm betting Andy called the him," Sam added.

Dean reluctantly tore his eyes from his 'baby' and turned over to us. "I don't know, maybe."

Sam was visibly taken back by his comment. "I beg your pardon?"

"I just don't know if he's our guy," he tried to explain, but to me, his logic seemed flawed.

"Dean, did you forget the part where he mind-controlled us into stealing the only thing you've ever loved?"

Dean shifted his weight to the other leg. "Yeah, but he just doesn't seem like the stone cold killer. I mean, he even left the keys in the car." Well there was only one way to figure this one out…we had to find out more about Andy.

We had been sitting in the car for probably 20 minutes now, both Dean and I facing forward. Not a single word had been spoken. Only the random sighs and the howling wind outside could be heard. I wasn't going to be the one to break the ice. He had demanded I stay in this car, therefore it was his responsibility to say something. He had crossed the line with what he did to me and I wasn't about to just share and care with the jackass. Nope.

The stillness continued until Dean let out heavy groan and slightly angled in his seat so he was facing me in the opposite corner. "I did what I had to do," he justified firmly.

"Well that's a pretty shitty apology, which I wouldn't even accept anyway," I bit, refusing to meet his eyes.

"You know I had to do it, especially after what I heard you say," he reasoned, trying to show me his actions were rationalized (only not).

I readjusted my crossed arms and slouched down in my seat, resting my knees against the back of the seat in spite of him. "You didn't have to do anything," I shot back.

"I had no choice!" he defended.

"Life's full of choices, Dean."

Clearly becoming increasingly frustrated with me, he retorted, "Yeah, well, you seem to always pick the shittiest one."

Without missing a beat, I threw back, "Well I learn from the best, Dean." And then I turned toward him, acknowledging his presence for the first time. Our eyes met for only a second and there was no way he'd missed the fire that was burning behind mine.

"You're such a little bitch," he sneered before turning back around.

"And you're a big fat ass," I added for good measure. And he was just that, you'll see as we continue on with the story. You'll agree with me by the end.

We were sitting in the Impala, debating whether classic reader Andy was capable of murder or not, when speaking of the devil, he suddenly appeared hunched over in Sam's window. I instantly sat up straighter in my seat because hell if he was going to take me by surprise again. Due to my lack of planning, the only idea I had was to shut my eyes tight, hoping that his mind powers wouldn't be able to penetrate me (dirty).

"Hey! You think I haven't seen you guys? Why are you following me?" Andy demanded.

Well nothing happened. I felt normal and didn't have an urge to talk. My plan had worked, but little did I know that he had only directed his powers to Sam and not the rest of us. I opened my eyes again as Sam explained, "We're lawyers. See, a relative of yours has passed away-."

"Tell the truth," Andy interrupted, commanding flatly. His eyes moved between the three of us. And then there was no controlling it.

"We hunt demons." The words came tumbling out of my mouth before I had a chance to freak out. Sam jerked around in his seat, his eyes screaming to shut the hell up.

"And ghosts and goblins. Basically everything in your worst nightmares," Dean added.

Sam's look of surprise was hard to miss as he tried to talk over us. "Guys, shut up!"

But it wasn't enough because the words just kept pouring out—like a really bad case of verbal diarrhea. Somehow it would seem that these powers didn't work on Sam, but there wasn't time to analyze that nonsense as I was focused on trying to stop talking. It was like Dean and I had been programmed to interchangeably explain our current family situation.

The words spilled out of my mouth, "Sam here, he's our brother. He's psychic. Got some superpower, kind of like you, but he thinks you're a murderer and now he's afraid that he's going to become one himself cause you're all part of some invite-exclusive demonic party and…"

Dean cut in, "We all hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right. Speaking of scared, there's my sister Kate back there. She's apparently developed some eating disorder and has been trying to hide it from us for god knows how long, but we found out and now I don't know how to get through to her and fix it, but…"

It was like the words went into my ears and I could fully process what he was saying, but there was no time to react. No time to come up with a counter-plan or jump out of the car and run before the words had a chance to pass my lips. I couldn't. I was stuck here and I knew exactly what was coming. Andy's confused and almost horrified expression turned to me as I reluctantly added, "He's right and sometimes I feel so lost in this not eating thing that I don't even know which way is up anymore. After I lost my dad, not eating was the only thing I had control over in my life, but sometimes I think it's gotten way out of hand, but I don't know how to stop and I'm too scared to admit that because I mean, Dean, he…."

Andy was physically taken back by the very open and candid response we had just blurted out, something he was definitely not expecting. Not wanting to hear us a second further, he commanded, "Just leave me alone!"

As soon as those words hit my ears, I felt my entire body relax and I was officially in control again. "Okay," Dean spat out as he rested a hand on his head, clearly feeling the effects of what had just happened to us. It was like muscles I never knew I had in my brain were physically worn out.

Unaffected by everything, Sam was able to get out of the car and pursue Andy. As my mind was running a billion miles an hour, trying to calculate the full ramifications of what had just been said, Dean turned around and faced me—but for the first time in practically my whole life, I couldn't read his face. Normally his expressions were so easy to figure out, but not this time. Was it guilt, sadness, anger, annoyance?….I had no idea what to make of it and that left me even more scared. It didn't last long though because he was quickly standing outside the car, slowly making his way toward Andy and Sam. Not wanting to dwell on what had just happened, I got out of the car also, but Sam held up his hand, signaling us to not come any closer. He had a very valid point. This guy had just screwed up everything for us even more, I was not about to get within mind-control range again.

Sam tried to explain his story to Andy, but he suddenly grabbed onto his head and let out a loud grunt of pain as he tried to stay focused. He cringed as he knees gave out from beneath him, and luckily, Dean got there before he went crashing onto the ground. I stood on the other side of him, anxiously waiting for him to come to. I hated these stupid vision things because it freaked me out to see Sam almost go still from the pain.

Finally, his eyes shot open and his breathing started to normalize. "Sam? What is it?" Dean asked, fear and concern clear in his voice.

"Look, I didn't do anything to him!" Andy defended himself. I shot him a nasty look—he may not have done anything to Sam, but he did crap to our family.

Sam took a few deep breaths before responding, "A woman. A woman burning alive." Holy crap no, no, no. Not good.

"What else did you get?" I prompted, trying to get as much information as we could.

"A gas station, a woman is going to kill herself."

Not able to take a hint, Andy interrupted, "What does he mean 'going to'? What is he—what is—."

"Shut up!" I yelled back at him. Did he not see this was important. Time was everything.

"She gets triggered by a call on her cell," Sam explained, almost as an accusation.

"When?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know," Sam replied regretfully as Dean helped him stand up. "But as long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch, he can't hurt her."

Andy held up his hands in defense. "I didn't hurt anybody!"

Says every killer out there. "Not yet, you haven't," I spat. I wanted to take this guy out myself for royally messing up my life today, but apparently that wasn't motive enough just yet. However, when the time came, I was going to be the first to sign up.

Suddenly, the roaring sirens of fire trucks stormed down the road. Well, it would appear that the time was now. "Go!" Sam yelled to Dean and me, motioning to follow the trucks.

Without another word, we took off to get in the car and were on the road in seconds, catching up to them in no time. By the time we pulled in behind the trucks, it was clear that we had arrived too late. There were already other fire trucks there that had put out the (woman) blaze. Completely frustrated, Dean got out of the car, slamming his door behind him and stormed off to the side of the building to call Sam. I followed behind him, taking in the sight before me in the process. There was still smoke pouring off of a blank lump on the ground. I shivered just thinking about this poor lady. What was with these deaths?!

"Hey, it's me. She's dead. Burned up just like you said," Dean explained. I tried to lean in closer to him to be able to hear what was being said on the other end, but he shoved my face away, before turning his back to me. "Like minutes before I got here! I mean the smell hasn't even cleared. What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head start." There was a brief pause before he continued, "You were with Andy when this happened, so it can't be him. It's gotta be somebody else. We'll dig around here, see what else we can find."

I heard Dean snap his phone shut and shove it in his pocket before turning around to face me. "Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once," he began, his eyes focused squarely on me. His tone wasn't pissed, but instead firm and authoritative, like I better have my listening ears on this time. Unable to stand the intense pressure of his glare, my eyes drifted down toward the ground. "Kate!" he barked and my eyes reflexively met his. Damnit. Once he realized that he now had my full attention, he continued, "While we are working this case, I am going to forget everything that was said back there because we have a killer on the loose to worry about right now. But this whole thing has gone too damn far, Kate. So you better believe that the second this thing is over, you are going to sit your ass down and we are going to talk about everything. Do I make myself clear?"

What I had been dreading finally became my reality. Dean acknowledged he had heard everything (how could he not) and now it all had a time stamp on it, like a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. We would act like nothing happened so we could focus on this case, but then…then we would eventually kill the monster and would be forced to deal with our own family drama—my drama.

Dean's eyes widened a little, ordering a response from me. "Crystal clear," I replied quietly, unable to get any other words to properly form.

"Good," he added simply, before passing by me and heading over to where the cops were huddled together. And I stood there, frozen in my steps, heart racing, and palms sweating. There was no running from this anymore. I had reached the end of the road and there was nowhere to hide and no more lies I could invent. It was almost time to face the music.

Eekk! I hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know what you thought and if you have any predictions for the next chapter…I love hearing them! :)