Sorry it's been a while. Work and other writing projects have taken up a load of time, but I really wanted to get this chapter out. So here you go! As always, I hope you enjoy reading it!

12. Nightshifter

I'd taken a couple of nights off; it was about time I gave myself some time to unwind and relax while watching a good old horror movie and sipping on hot cocoa. Ok, I didn't really have a choice. I'd kind of… bruised my ass. It was an embarrassing moment, one that I would probably repeat in my head forever. It had settled down a bit, but it smarted sometimes when I walked around too much. I grabbed the bag of frozen peas I'd bought earlier from the store and did my waddle of shame back to the table. I sat on the bag and sighed at the instant relief. I sipped my hot cocoa as the original black and white Dracula movie played in the background. A classic—even if it did have no correlation to the real world and real vampires. I booted up my laptop, planning on scanning through recent news articles—I may have been giving myself a couple of nights off hunting, but I could still get to work on finding a new case. I was currently in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and there was no lack of reports to look through: shootings, robberies, a few police car chases. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary until I stumbled across a news article: 'Much-loved woman robs workplace, shoots guard dead, then commits suicide'. Now that wasn't all that out of the ordinary: people lose their minds and do crazy stuff every day, but I could have sworn I had read something similar when I got into town a few days ago. I clicked on the article and began to read, getting so engrossed in the details that the sudden scream from the TV had me jumping in my seat… and I knocked over the cup I'd stupidly left right by my laptop.

"Shit!"

The cocoa spilled over the keys and the screen flickered before dying. Great. I bust my ass, then my laptop. My life was just getting better and better. Note the sarcasm.

I still needed to find the other news story I'd read before. There wasn't going to be many places open this time of night, and it was going to bug me too much to wait 'til morning. I knew one person who'd probably be awake and wouldn't mind a quick bit of research. At least I didn't think he would. Maybe he wouldn't want me to bother him. But he didn't seem like the type to outwardly say that. What could calling hurt, really?

I walked over to the other side of the room and grabbed my cell from my jacket I'd flung on the bed. I hit call on the number I needed, and it only rang a few times before it was answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sam."

There was the sound of shuffling from his end. I hoped I hadn't woken him. "Hi Rae. You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. Erm, everything good on your end?" See? I could do this friend/common decency thing. It was easy really.

"It's been uh… interesting," he said with what sounded like a smile, maybe a reluctant one, on his face.

Wasn't everything always 'interesting' with the Winchesters? And by interesting, I meant deadly and crazy. "I don't want to know the details, so I'm not touching that one," I decided. "The reason I called… could you do me a favour?"

"Sure." He replied so quickly I wasn't sure why I ever doubted calling him. "What is it?"

"I need to look something up but my laptop kinda… died on me." I didn't need an engineering degree to figure out that thing was not coming back from the dead. "It should only take a second."

"No problem. Let me just grab mine." There was more shuffling, the sound of a door closing and what I thought was Dean's muffled voice in the background. "Ok, what is it you want me to search?"

"There was a news story in Milwaukee a couple of weeks ago. It was something about a bank robbery…"

"Hold on." Keys clicked as Sam searched. "I think I've got it. Says the bank was robbed by an employee who, after robbing the place, hid the money, went home, and committed suicide. All the other employees couldn't believe that he'd done it."

"Hmm." There were too many similar threads. This had to be related somehow, surely.

"What's special about this one?" Sam asked.

"I just read something similar, that's all. A little too similar. Another case in Milwaukee. Events were exactly the same, only this time, it was a jewellery store that was robbed."

"You thinking something's going around looting places?"

I bit my lip as I mulled it over. There may have been comparable threads, but I had to admit it was a weak link. "I dunno. Maybe. I might check it out, see if it's anything."

Before Sam could respond, there was a scuffle on the other end of the line.

"Did you say something about a bank robbery?"

I sighed. "Hi, Dean."

"Are we talking like Ocean's Eleven sorta stuff? 'Cause if it is, I'm there. I can totally do Brad Pitt."

I chuckled. "You can do Brad Pitt?"

"Well, he is a handsome devil. Like myself." If I'd rolled my eyes any harder at Dean's vanity, they'd have gotten stuck.

"There's no heist," I said. "No case. No nothing. No need to continue this conversation."

"Where's the case?" he asked.

"Timbuktu."

He scoffed. "You know I'll get it out of Sam."

"No, don't…" I could hear Dean calling out to Sam in the background. "Sam don't tell him anything!" I shouted down the phone.

There were a few seconds of quiet murmuring. I held my breath. Then Dean got back on the phone.

"See you in Milwaukee, Princess."

He put the phone down and I put my head in my hands.

The next day we were ready to go. The boys had driven from wherever they were and I'd given them a brief rundown of the two stories. I still wasn't sure if we actually had a case, so information still needed to be gathered. The three of us were dressed in our suits, ready to interview the jewellery store employees.

As I got out of my truck and walked over to the store door, the boys came up behind me.

"Are you limping?" Dean asked.

"No." I made an effort to shake off any lasting twinges. I'd been alternating between icing it and sitting on a hot water bottle, and thought it was a thousand times better, but obviously I wasn't back to being one hundred percent.

We entered the store and I could instantly tell it was a place I would never in my life set foot in again. It was decadent, from floor to ceiling. I seriously wanted to take my boots off just to feel my toes sink in to the deep, cushy carpet. Everything in eyesight sparkled: the numerous chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, to the dozens of jewels in their glass cases. I'd never be able to afford shopping in a place like this ever—not that I ever felt the need to dress myself in diamonds.

Sam and I walked over to the man who, according to his badge, was the manager. No surprise that Dean made a beeline for the pretty sales assistant. We introduced ourselves under our FBI guise and the manager was more than happy to voice his bewilderment about what had happened.

"Helena was our head buyer," he began. "She... she was family, you know? She said it herself, every year at the Christmas party. She said we were the only family she had."

"So there were never any signs that she'd do something like this?" I asked.

"No. Still can't believe it, even now. That night, Helena came back to the store after closing, cleaned out all the display cases, and the safe. Edgar, our night watchman, caught her in the act. He didn't know what to do, he'd known her for years. He called me at home."

"And that's when she took his gun?" Sam asked.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Dean leaning on the counter, talking to the sales assistant who was all but fawning over him.

A haunted look passed over the manager's face. "She shot him in the face. I heard him die. Over the phone." Sheesh. He'd probably be hearing that for the rest of his life.

"Any idea what her motive could have been?" I asked.

"What motive?" he shrugged desperately. "It makes no sense. Why steal all those diamonds, all that jewellery, and then what? Just dump it somewhere, just hide it, and then go home and…"

"So you never saw the security camera footage yourself, then?" I asked. Anything could have gone down if all he had to rely on was sound.

"No," he said. "The police, they took all the tapes, first thing."

"Yeah, of course they did," Dean said as he approached wiggling a small white card in his hand. No prizes for guessing whose number was scrawled across it.

We weren't going to get any more information out of the store workers, at least nothing that would tell us if we were wasting time chasing our tails. There were more people we needed to speak to.

We strolled back out of the store and I turned to Dean. "Well, looks like you've got your evening sorted," I said nodding to the card he still had in his hands. "So why not let the big guns handle it?"

He scoffed, looking me up and down. "Big guns? What are you, five foot nothing?"

I did the same as him, scoff and all. "We can't all be gigantic sasquatches… no offence, Sam."

Dean clicked his fingers and pointed at me. "You see, you think that's an insult, but it's really not."

I cupped my hand over my ear. "Speak up, I can't hear you from all the way down here."

"That's because you're so goddamn short."

Dammit. I'd dug my own grave on that one. "I'm not short."

He smirked, knowing he'd irked me. "Aww, did I touch a nerve, Shrimp?"

"I'm getting in my truck and driving away," I said as I walked away.

"Need a boost?" he called over.

"Where to next?" Sam asked as he came up beside me.

I sighed, pushing my irritation with Dean down. "Gotta talk to the security guard from the bank robbery."

"Got the address?" Dean asked.

I nodded and gave it to them, then jerked my thumb behind me in the direction of my truck. "Or you could just…"

Dean glanced over my shoulder and grimaced. "Not a chance in Hell."

I looked over expectantly to Sam. If I could get Sam to ride with me, at least it would feel like half a victory. I wasn't really all that bothered whether either of them rode with me or not, but Dean's stubborn reluctance was pushing my buttons. He was pushing my buttons, period.

Sam looked between the truck, Dean and I, then winced. "I'll just ride with Dean…"

I threw my head back. "Not you too, Sam. I thought better of you!"

I turned back towards my truck once more and pulled open the door.

"You need a pillow?" Dean's voice sounded right from behind me. I turned to face him again. "You know, to sit on? Help you see over the steering wheel?" I glared at him, not bothering to say a single word. "Ah I can see in your eyes that you're angry with me. That's ok, we can wrestle it out later."

"Great!" I said with a forceful smile as I climbed in. "Can't wait to smack you in the face with a metal chair."

I slammed the door shut and started the engine. I drove away, leaving a sniggering Dean in my wake. I probably should have given Dean a fake address; the man's presence just rattled something in me every time. Still, I couldn't deny that having another couple of brains on the case would be a help. After speaking to the manager, I knew there had to be something paranormal involved. The issue was figuring out what was involved. And three heads were better than one, right?

I pulled up outside Ronald Resnick's house: the man who'd been working security the night of the bank robbery. Rain had begun falling in a steady patter.

Dean pulled up about a minute after me. "Friggin' cops," he grumbled as he climbed out of the Impala. He'd obviously been bitching on the way over.

Sam sighed as he got out, joining Dean on the sidewalk. "They're just doing their job, Dean."

"No, they're doing our job, only they don't know it, so they suck at it." They met me at the front of the house and Dean turned to me. "Tell us more about this bank."

"The Milwaukee National Trust was hit a couple of weeks ago," I said as we started walking up the path to the house.

"Same M.O. as the jewellery store?" Dean asked.

"Yep, inside job, long-time employee, the never-in-a-million-years type. The guy robs the bank, then goes home and supposedly commits suicide."

"And this Resnick, he was the security guard on duty?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. He was actually beaten unconscious by the teller who heisted the place."

Dean grimaced. "God."

I knocked on the door. "Mr. Resnick? Ronald Resnick?"

Suddenly, a blinding light flooded the porch. All three of us turned our eyes away, trying to shield ourselves against the glare.

"Son of a—"

"Jeez!"

A man approached the but still kept the screen door shut. He looked like he'd been running his hands through his hair all day and eyed us sceptically.

"FBI, Mr. Resnick," Sam stated.

"Let me see the badges."

As one we pulled out our fake badges and slapped them against the glass. Ronald leaned towards them, scrutinising them carefully. He looked back and forth between us and the badges before rising back up.

"I already gave my statement to the police," he said.

"Yeah, listen Ronald," Dean said breezily, "Just some things about your statement we wanted to get some clarification on."

Ronald quirked an eyebrow. "You read it?"

Dean nodded. "Sure did."

Ronald looked as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. He paused for a beat before asking, "You come to listen to what I've got to say?"

"Well, that's why we're here."

Ronald nodded slowly, clearly still bewildered. "Well, come on in." He opened the door and led us further into his home. "None of the cops ever called me back. Not after I told them what was really going on."

We came to a room full of… were those aliens? Newspaper clippings, photos, and everything you'd think a tinfoil hat wearer might possess, covered the walls. No wonder he'd seemed so suspicious that we actually wanted to hear him out.

"Uh, they all thought I was crazy," he continued. "First off, Juan Morales never robbed the Milwaukee National Trust, okay? That, I guarantee. See, we and Juan were friends. He used to come back to the bank on my night shifts, and we'd play cards."

"So you let him into the bank that night, after hours," said Sam.

Ronald paused and a deep earnestness washed over him. "The thing I let into the bank... wasn't Juan. I mean, it had his face, but it wasn't his face. Uh, every detail was perfect, but too perfect, you know, like if a doll maker made it, like I was talking to a big Juan-doll."

Ok, he'd really lost me there. A Juan-doll? Really?

"A Juan-doll?" Sam asked, sounding just as skeptical as I felt. And judging by the look on Dean's face, he was right there with us.

"Look, this wasn't the only time this happened, okay?" He handed Sam a manila folder. Dean and I moved closer to him to read over his shoulder. There were newspaper clippings of the jewellery store robbery. "There was this jewellery store, too. And the cops, and you guys, you just won't see it! Both crimes were pulled by the same thing."

He may have been going about this from a weird angle, but I had to give Ronald credit: he'd hit the nail on the head. It was certainly impressive that he'd managed to connect these two cases. Ron wouldn't make such a bad hunter.

"What thing is that, Mr. Resnick?" I asked.

Ronald picked up a magazine and held it to his chest. The front cover read 'Birth of the Cybermen.' "Chinese've been working on 'em for years. And the Russians before that. Part man, part machine. Like the Terminator. But the kind that can change itself, make itself look like other people."

Dean smirked. "Like the one from T2."

"Exactly! See, so not just a robot, more of a… Mandroid."

Scratch that. I take back everything I just thought.

"A Mandroid?" Sam asked.

Dean cleared his throat. "And what makes you so sure about this, Ronald?"

Ronald held up a finger, smiling, then rushed over to his VCR. He put a tape into the player, motioning for us to sit on the couch in front of it.

"See, I made copies of all the security tapes. I knew once the cops got them they'd be buried." He was showing us the night Juan robbed the bank. We cold see him clear as day on the tape. "Here. Now watch. Watch. Watch him, watch, watch!"

"We're watching, Ronald." I tried to reassure him that he had our full attention, though I wasn't entirely sure what he was expecting us to see.

Suddenly he paused the tape and a wave of nausea washed over me.

"See, look! There it is!" He exclaimed. "You see? He's got the laser eyes."

The screen in front of me faded away, Ronald's animated ramblings faded, and I was sucked back into the memory of that night in St Louis.

I tried to tug his hand away, but it was no use. But the fear of being choked to death fled when I felt his other hand caress down my body, running down the side of my breast, before stopping at the button of my jeans. Please, no.

A shapeshifter. I hadn't come across one since that case. Sitting there, staring at that frozen image on TV, I was a mess of emotions. At first I thought the most heightened one was cold, dead fear but I could feel the anger beginning to boil. It was going to be all consuming.

I finally realised Dean had been looking at me, worry darkening his eyes. "You alright?" he whispered.

I unclenched my jaw from where it had been locked tight. "I'm good." I didn't sound convincing even to my own ears but I tried to force myself to focus on the situation at hand. I could freak out later.

"Now, these robberies, they're grouped together." Ronald turned and gestured at a map he'd pinned to the wall. "So I figure the Mandroid is holed up somewhere in the middle. Underground, maybe. I dunno, maybe that's where it recharges its, uh, Mandroid batteries."

"Okay," Sam said as he stood up. Dean and I followed suit. I was glad to say I was steady on my feet. "I want you to listen very carefully. Because I'm about to tell you the God's honest truth about all of this."

Ronald crossed his arms, bracing himself for what Sam was about to say. He'd come so close to being right, had clearly put in so much time and effort into solving this thing for his friend, I couldn't blame Sam for wanting to tell him the truth. He deserved it.

"There's no such thing as Mandroids." Ok, not where I was expecting Sam to go. "There's nothing evil or inhuman going on out there. Just people. Nothing else, you understand?"

The more Sam spoke, the more crestfallen Ronald looked. "The laser eyes." He was clinging on to everything he'd believed. It was like watching a parent tell a child Santa wasn't real. It didn't feel right. Hell, even Dean was squirming on the spot.

"Just a camera flare, Mr. Resnick," Sam said firmly. "See, I know you don't want to believe this, but your friend Juan robbed the bank and that's it."

Ronald threw his arm out, pointing to the front door. "Get out of my house! Now!"

Sam nodded calmly. "Sure. First things first."

Dean and I both turned to Sam. What was he going to say now to break Ronald's already fragile heart?

We headed back to the motel we were staying at. The Impala and my truck were both loaded up with all the evidence and conspiracies Ronald had collected. We hefted the boxes up the stairs to the boys' room.

As we went inside, I put my box down on the kitchen counter. "Erm, you guys get started. I need a shower first. Been a long day."

Without waiting for a response, but feeling Dean's concerned gaze following me out, I headed to my room and stripped out of my suit. I needed to gather my thoughts and pull myself together before I got back to work.

I turned the shower on, making sure the temperature was just hot enough, and stepped inside. I braced my hands on the wall and let the water beat down over me.

It just had to be a shapeshifter. I knew I'd have to face one again sooner or later, but I hated the hold it had on me. Throw a monster at me and I wouldn't blink. I shouldn't have been close to shattering at even the thought of facing one again. I was not some meek, little girl that needed saving. And I'd be damned if I let some shapeshifter make me feel like I was. It was there and then I decided to throw out my fear and shame. Anger was my new BFF. We were gonna find this SOB, hunt it down, and I was going to enjoy every second of killing it.

Feeling more like myself, I hopped out of the shower, got dressed and headed back to get working once more on the case. I knocked on the boys' door and Sam let me in. They'd gotten changed out of their suits and had already set up the stuff we'd taken from Ronald's house. As I passed him, Dean popped open a beer and handed it over to me. The first cold sip was just what I needed.

"Man, that has got to be the kicker, straight up," Dean said as he stood in front of the clippings he'd taped to the wall. I joined him. "I mean, you tell that poor son of a bitch that… what did you say? Remand the tapes that he copied? Classified evidence of an ongoing investigation?" He chuckled derisively. "That's messed up."

If Ron had had a puppy, and someone kicked it, he would have looked just as he did when Sam ordered him to hand over all of his evidence. I felt sorry for the guy.

Sam put the tape into the player and sat down on the side of the bed, ready to watch it. "What? Are you pissed at me or something?"

"Nah, I just think it's a little creepy how good of a Fed you are." Dean went to sit at the little table, where there were multiple maps laid out. "I mean, come on, we could have at least thrown the guy a bone. He did some pretty good legwork here."

Now that I was standing in front of all the stuff Ronald had been collecting, it was fair to say Dean was right. He'd even figured out that the thing could transform to look like different people. He may have been a little erratic, but he was smart.

Sam scoffed. "Mandroid?"

Dean nodded reluctantly. "Except for the Mandroid part. I liked him. He's not that different from us. People think we're crazy."

I took another sip of beer, not taking my eyes from Ronald's work. "I felt kinda bad for him."

"Guys, he's not a hunter," said Sam. "He's just a guy who stumbled onto something real. If he were to go up against this thing he'd get torn apart. Better to stay in the dark and stay alive."

"Yeah, I guess," Dean muttered.

Sam did have a point, yet it still felt like we could have handled the situation differently.

I finally moved from my spot and walked over to stand by Sam. He had paused the video exactly where Ron had. "Shapeshifter. Just like back in St. Louis. Same retinal reaction to video."

"Eyes flare at the camera," Dean added. "I hate those friggin' things."

You and me both. Dean had a whole other reason for hating them.

"You think I don't?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, well, one didn't turn into you and frame you for murder, or…" Dean looked up at me, worried, clearly having to catch himself before he continued his sentence. My breath caught in my throat.

"Or what?" Sam asked.

Dean looked back down at the map in front of him, shaking his head. "Nothing."

I knew Dean had a pretty good idea of what had happened to me back in St Louis and I hated it. But at least he'd managed to keep it to himself.

"Well, look. If this shifter's anything like the one we killed in Missouri..."

"Then Ronald was right," Dean stated. "All right, they like to layer up underground, preferably the sewer. And all the robberies have been connected so far, right?"

"Yeah," I said as I walked over to see what Dean had been working on.

"Through the sewer main layout. There's one more bank lined up on that same sewer main."

The hunt was on.

We parked he Impala a couple of blocks away from the City Bank of Milwaukee. The boys were getting changed into dark overalls as went over the plan one more time. It was fairly simple: the boys were gonna go in as service guys for the bank's security system. They'd get access to the cameras and watch for any flashing eyes. Once they spotted him, they'd call me, I'd trail him until we could corner him and fire silver bullets in his heart. See? Simple.

"Call me as soon as you catch sight of him. If he spooks, I'll be ready." I was going into the bank as a regular customer. Hopefully no one would spot me hanging around for too long. As long as the boys spotted him fast enough, there wouldn't be a problem.

As Sam went around to the front passenger side door to get something, Dean moved closer to me. "You know, you can sit this one out if you want."

And that is why I hated Dean knowing. Or at least thinking he knew. I didn't want him, of all people, trying to treat me with kid gloves. I could feel myself snapping before I could reign it in. "Here's how this evening's going to go: we're gonna figure out who the shifter is, and we're going to take him down. Then I'm going to take you down for thinking that I can't do my damned job."

His eyes widened. "I never said—"

"I'm not sitting anything out and you need to mind your goddamn business."

He scoffed, shaking his head while he closed the trunk. "Sorry for caring."

"No one asked you to," I murmured as I stalked off.

I'd been hanging around for about forty-five minutes. After the third worker approached me, asking if I needed any help, I told them I was waiting for my grandma who was in a meeting. I'd made the mistake of telling the first one I was interested in opening an account. He'd nearly talked my ear off for a solid twenty minutes. They guy had barely stopped to take a breath.

Finally, my cell rang. "It's the bank manager," Dean said.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, he… "

"He what? Dean?"

A shot rang out. I whirled around to see Ronald at the bottom of the stairs, brandishing an assault rifle.

Oh Hell! So much for the plan being simple!

"This is not a robbery!" He fired another shot into the ceiling. "Everybody on the floor now!"

Screams rang around the room as people scattered. He fired again into the air and everyone started ducking.

"Get down, dammit! Come on! On the floor, on the floor! In the middle! Hurry up, come on!"

I managed to stay out of sight, hidden behind one of the desks. Ron was all fired up and I didn't think seeing my face was gonna help the situation any. The guys would have seen all of this on the cameras. I hoped they could come up with a plan, because at that moment, I was drawing a blank.

I peered around the side to see Ron holding up a key. "Now, there's only one way in or out of here, and I chained it up. So nobody's leaving, do you understand?"

"Hey, buddy. Calm down. Just calm down."

My eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head when I heard Dean's voice. Calm down? Really? That's the plan we're going with?

"What the… you! Get on the floor, now."

"Okay, we're doing that. Just don't shoot anybody, especially us." I peaked out once more to see Sam and Dean kneeling on the floor, Ron's gun aimed directly at them. This is going to go well.

"I knew it as soon as you guys left. You ain't FBI. Who are you? Who are you working for, huh? The men in black? You working for the Mandroid?"

"We're not working for the Mandroid!" Sam shouted in a manner that was a little too condescending, which wasn't gonna win him any prizes.

"You, shut up!" Ronald screamed. "I ain't talking to you. I don't like you." There was a pause. "Get on 'em. Frisk them down, make sure they got no weapons on them. Go!"

A man that had been huddled with the others walked over to Sam and Dean and started patting them down. And… dammit. He'd found Dean's knife. At least I still had mine on me.

"Now what have we here?" Ronald took the knife from the man and threw it into the deposit box.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Dean sighed heavily enough that I could hear him from all the way on the other side of the room. "We know you don't want to hurt anybody. That's exactly what's gonna happen if you keep waving that cannon around. Why don't you let these people go?"

"No! I already told you, if nobody's gonna stop this thing, then I've got to do it myself."

"Hey, we believe you! That's why we're here."

"You don't believe me. Nobody believes me! How could they?" Ron's voice had started to shake.

"Come here," Dean said.

"What? No."

"You're holding the gun, boss, you're calling the shots. I just want to tell you something. Come here."

I looked over again at what was happening. Ron stepped closer to the boys and leaned in. Dean was whispering something to him.

"No. No!" Dean exclaimed. "No, look, we're running out of time, okay? We've got to find him before he changes into someone else."

"Like I'm gonna listen to you. You're a damn liar... I'll shoot you! Get down!"

Dean was starting to stand up but Ronald was getting riled up even more. With no other choice, no other obvious plan, it was time to make myself known.

"Ronald?" I called out before getting up. After all, I didn't want to startle him and have him spin around and shoot me on sight.

I gradually got up, hands raised in the air.

When he recognised me, his moth dropped open. "You!"

"Goddammit," Dean muttered.

"We believe you, alright?" I looked Ronald directly in his eyes as I very slowly crept towards him. "You're not crazy. We believe you now and we believed you back at your house; we were just trying to protect you by lying to you." He lowered the gun slightly, so I kept on. "It was a shitty thing to do. I'm sorry. But now it's time for you to help us. Help us get this thing."

"How—how do I know if I can trust you?"

"I can't answer that for you. But we can't waste any more time. You want to stop this monster just as much as we do. So take me with you and we can figure it out together."

Ronald took his time, thinking it over, while Dean stood behind him shaking his head at me.

Finally, Ron nodded. "All right. You come with me. But everyone else gets in the vault!"

We all made our way to the back of the bank where the vault was located and the employees and customers trailed in one after the other. Dean was at the back of the line but stopped at the vault door.

"Get inside." Ron poked him in the back with the gun.

Dean turned around to face him. "I can't do that, Ron."

"I'll—I'll shoot you."

"No, you won't." He nodded his head in my direction. "But I can't leave my partner at risk. You understand that right?"

What was he doing? I had everything under control. "Dean…"

He raised his hands in front of him once more. "I'm unarmed. You've got the gun."

Ron shook his head in defeat. He must have sensed that Dean wasn't going to back down. The man could be just as stubborn as me sometimes. "Fine. But no funny business. Lock it up."

Dean and I began to push the door shut.

"It's okay, everyone," he said to those inside, including Sam. "Just stay cool."

We slammed the door shut and Dean spun the lock.

"Alright you two, start moving."

Dean and I began to walk towards the stairs, leading to the hallways where the offices were located.

"What the hell was that?" I whispered. There had been no need for Dean to tag along with me. He was putting himself in harms way and for what? Did he not trust I could do this myself?

He shrugged in response. "Suck it up, Princess."

When we got to the top of the stairs, I took out my knife I had tucked into my boot.

Ron spotted it instantly, flinging his gun in my direction. "Hey!"

"Whoa!" I backed up a step. "Trust me Ronald, if I was gonna use this on you, I would have already."

He looked confused, as if the thought of a woman getting stabby was too much to comprehend.

Dean asked, "You don't by any chance have a gun hidden anywhere on you?"

"Come on, even you wouldn't be stupid enough to bring a gun into a bank." I looked back to Ronald and winced. "Sorry, Ron."

We began to clear the offices one by one. In one of the rooms we entered, I went over to check the closet.

"Check behind the desk," Dean ordered Ron as he went to look in the adjoining room.

The closet was bare, save from boxes piled up at the back.

There was a loud thump from behind me. I swung around to find Ronald laying on the floor. Actually, it wasn't the floor he was laying on.

Once Ron got a good look at what was underneath him, he started screaming, scrambling to get up. "What the hell is that?"

Dean turned a lamp to shine directly on the gunk and hunched down beside it. "Oh, great. When it changes form, it sheds its old skin. So, now it could be anybody."

Ronald picked a piece of the skin up and smelled it. Eww. "It's so, so weird. Its robot skin is so lifelike."

Dean and I both sighed and said, "It's a shapeshifter."

Ronald's brow furrowed. "Shapeshifter?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's human, more or less," Dean explained hurriedly. "Has human drives and in this case it's money. But it generates its own skin, it can shape it to match someone else's features, you know, taller, shorter, male…"

"So it, it, it kills someone and then takes their place?"

"Not necessarily," I said. The shapeshifter in St Louis hadn't killed anybody before taking on their form.

Dean noticed a letter opener on the desk and picked it up, examining it. He sighed in relief.

"What are you doing?" Ronald asked.

"Nice. You remember the old werewolf stories? Pretty much came from these guys. Silver's the only thing I've seen that hurts them." He nodded his head towards the door and I followed him out. "Come on, Ronald."

We headed back downstairs and Dean and I both turned to find Ron following along, chuckling to himself.

Dean stopped in front of him. "What are you, nuts?"

"That's just it." Ron had pure glee written all over his face. "I'm not nuts. I mean, I was so scared that I was losing my marbles. But this is real! I mean, I—I was right! Except for the Mandroid thing. Thank you, both of you."

I felt more enamoured by Ron as time went on. He really was like a cuddly bear or a kid who discovered the magical world of unicorns.

"You did good work," I said. "It was solid research. You should be proud of yourself."

We continued walking on and Dean kept looking at me with bewilderment from the corner of his eyes. "What?" I shrugged. "He's kinda sweet."

Dean shook his head as if clearing his head out of a daze. "The man is holding up a bank."

I grinned. "What can I say? I like a bad boy."

Suddenly, the lights went out. Things had just gone from bad to worse.

"Shit!"

"Dammit! No, no, no, no, no, no," Dean growled.

"What? What is it?" Ron asked, panicked.

"They cut the power. Probably their way of saying hi."

"Who?"

I sighed. "The cops."

"The cops?!"

Dean threw his arms out. "Well, you weren't exactly a smooth criminal about this, Ron. I mean, you didn't even secure the security guard. He probably called them."

Ron began to stutter, the situation hitting him like a truck. "Well, I… I didn't, I didn't think—"

I went over to him, laying my hand on his arm. "Hey, Ron, it'll be ok, we just need to take a breath and think this through." I turned back to Dean. "They probably already have us surrounded."

Dean nodded. "And they've cut the power to the cameras so there's no way of telling who the shapeshifter is. It's not looking good, Ron."

We started to head over to the vault when a noise had us all stopping in our tracks.

"Did you hear that?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

The three of us cautiously moved towards where the sound had come from. There was another slight sound, and it seemed to be coming from a small room behind the front desks.

Dean and I stood by opposite sides of the door. Dean reached out to open the door and I held my knife up. He flung the door open and we found half a dozen employees and customers, all huddled on the floor, fear shining in their eyes.

"You're gonna need to come with us," Dean said.

One of the men in the room was the security guard. Dean swiftly took his revolver off him. We led them back to the vault, having no other option. For all we knew, one of them could have been the shifter. Dean spun the lock on the vault door, opening it up. I could hear a woman inside saying that Dean had saved them. Not exactly, sweetheart.

"Actually, I just found a few more. Come on, everybody, let's go, let's go." Dean hustled them inside and asked Sam to step out. He closed the door behind him and we went back out into the main area of the bank.

"Two doses of good news coming your way," I started to explain to Sam. "First, the cops are here."

"Second, it's shed its skin again," Dean said while Ron paced up and down. "We don't know when. It could be in the halls, it could be in the vault."

"Great," Sam said with distain. "You know, Dean, you are wanted by the police."

Dean rubbed at his chin, eyes wide. "Yeah."

"So even if we do find this damn thing, how the hell are we gonna get out of here?"

Good question, Sammy.

"One problem at a time" Dean said. "All right, Princess and I will do another a sweep of the whole place, see if we can find any more stragglers. Once we get everyone together, we've got to play a little game of find-the-freak, so, here." He held out another letter opener for Sam to take. "Found another one of these for you. Now stay here, make sure Ronald doesn't hurt anybody, okay? Help him manage the situation."

Sam's voice rose in disbelief. "Help him manage? Are you insane?"

Ronald looked over at Sam's outburst. Dean gave him two thumbs up.

Dean turned back to Sam, making sure his voice was lowered. "Look, I know this isn't going the way we wanted."

"Understatement!" Sam's shout suggested he hadn't quite got the 'lowered-voices' memo.

"But if we invite the cops in right now, Ronald gets arrested, we get arrested, the shifter gets away, probably never find it again."

Sam looked behind Dean's shoulder, then looked back to us with exasperation. Ronald was standing in the beam of light, gun pointed outside.

"Ron, you might wanna get of the light!" I half shouted; half whispered.

"Seriously?!" Sam was at his wits end.

"Yeah, Ron's game plan was a bad plan, I mean, it was a bit of a crazy plan, but right now crazy's the only game in town, okay?" Dean slapped him on the shoulder and indicated for me to follow him.

I looked between Sam and Ronald, not quite sure we should have been leaving those two by themselves. "Sammy… play nice."

Back upstairs once more, Dean and I inched our way down the hallway, all too aware of what waited for us outside, as blue and red lights flashed through the window and helicopter blades whirred over head. We ducked as we went past the windows, making sure to keep out of sight. There was a heaviness in the air though that had nothing to do with the shitty situation we found ourselves in.

"What?" I asked.

"Nothing," Dean responded.

"I can feel you looking at me. What is it?"

He took a breath. "It's just… now we're alone, I—"

I shined the light directly in his face. "I'm not having a quickie with you."

"Jeez! That's not what I was gonna say." He knocked the flashlight away from him and we carried on moving down the hall. "Look… did you ever talk to anyone? You know, about what happened in St Louis?"

I groaned. "Dean… Don't."

He grasped my arm and pulled me to a stop. I didn't like it when Dean looked at me all serious, as he was now. "I know you're probably planning on stabbing me in the neck if I don't shut up, I just… I know something happened. I wanna make sure you're ok."

"I'm fine," I said. My tone making no space for any arguments. "Now drop it."

He bit his lip, debating with himself on whether to push me any further. Eventually he said, "Ok." He let go of my arm and continued walking. I wanted to get this shifter dead so Dean never had a reason to bring up St Louis ever again.

We went through the offices again, in case the shifter had doubled back after changing forms. There was nothing obvious to indicate who they were or where they had gone and we didn't find any more people hiding. I was starting to think the damn thing was in the vault. We were in the last couple of offices when I noticed a ceiling tile askew. I patted Dean on the arm and shone my flashlight towards it when I had his attention. He grabbed a coat rack and began to shift the tile. He moved it a fraction before a load of them fell and a half-naked body dropped to the floor. I bent down to turn him over. His throat had been slit. This shifter seemed a little more bloodthirsty than the one in St Louis—and that was saying something.

"He's in the vault," I said. He was one of the people we'd found hiding in the broom closet.

We raced back down to Sam. There was something happening in the vault. Ronald stood in the doorway, his gun raised at everyone inside. We pulled Sam over to the side to explain what had happened, when I caught sight of who was by the door. The shifter had his arm around the security guard who didn't look like he was doing so well.

"It's the guy with his arm around the guard," I said.

"Makes sense, he's been pushing to get the guy help." Sam wandered over to the vault. "You know what, Ronald? He's right, we've got to get this man outside." He reached out and took the weight of the guard. "Come on. I've got you."

"Yeah, yeah, let me help you," the shifter said.

"Oh, I got him, it's cool. Thanks." Sam started leading the guard away to safety.

I fixed my eyes on the shifter. I couldn't have disguised my distain, my hatred for him even if I tried. Which I didn't. He was a dead shifter walking.

Dean approached him. "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?"

The shifter knew we were on to him, so I moved forward too, in case he decided to attack.

The shifter shrugged as if it were no big deal. "You got the gun, man. I mean, whatever."

As he stepped through the doorway, he struck. He grabbed Dean and threw him into the wall, pushing me down in the process, jarring my already injured backside. I flinched with the pain but sprung up as fast I could, hot on Ronald's tail, who had run straight after the shifter, screaming for him to stop. We got back out into the main area. Ronald came to a stop, his gun raised, locked on his target. A red dot appeared on Ronald's back. He'd stood directly in the light.

Time seemed to slow as I screamed at him. Sam echoed my desperate cry. I began to run to him, but someone dragged me back and threw us to the ground.

A window smashed. Red seeped from Ronald's jacket. He slumped to his knees. Fell to the floor. Motionless.

Sam ran over to us, breathing heavily. "Here," he said, passing something to Dean. I wasn't sure what. I couldn't take my eyes off Ronald's lifeless body. "Take care of the guard. I'm going after the shifter."

He didn't deserve this. He was a good man trying to help people. That's all he'd wanted: to find the truth and help stop the bad things in the world. And look where it had gotten him. This was all the shifter's fault. He needed to pay for this.

I sprung up, out of Dean's grip, and raced after Sam.

"Rae!" Dean shouted after me. I didn't look back.

Just like I had with Dean, Sam and I searched every office high and low. But for all we knew, the shifter could have changed again by now. Sam approached a closed door. I stood behind him, ready. He threw the door open, but it was an empty supply closest. Something sounded out behind me. I spun, coming face to face with some of the employees from the vault.

"Please don't hurt us!" One of the women begged.

"Sherri! You shouldn't be back here right now!" Sam shouted. "You're in danger! Now go back to the vault. All of you. Now!"

They ran off. I hoped they were heading back to the vault, but I wasn't going to waste any more time making sure of it. They never should have left there in the first place.

There was nothing else to find on this floor, so we headed to the stairwell. As I walked in, I slipped on something; Sam's fast reflexes and grip on my arm, the only things keeping me from falling. I looked down to see another pile of shed skin. He had changed again.

Sam rang Dean. "Slipped his skin. Yeah, bastard shifts fast. A lot faster than the one in St. Louis. Yeah, I think most of the employees are out of the vault by now."

Sam ended the phone call. "Dean's gonna try and round everyone up that got out of the vault. Try and get everyone in one place again."

I sighed as we climbed the stairs. "I just feel like we keep going round in circles. We find him, then lose him. Over and over."

"Hey, we're gonna get him. He's not getting out of this bank alive."

"You're damn right about that, Sammy."

We searched through another lot of offices. I didn't know if it was right to be thankful or not, but we found out who our shifter was pretty quickly. Sam had noticed drops of blood leading to yet another closet—Seriously, how many closets did this place have? Just like before, I stood beside him while he reached out for the handle. As he opened it, another body fell to the floor. It was Sherri. Sam had only just told her to get back to the vault.

Once more we rushed back downstairs.

"Hey," Dean said. "We've got a bit of a problem outside."

"We got a problem in here," Sam said, indicating the vault.

"Hey, Princess, you remember how you were saying you liked bad boys? Well turns out I'm wanted by the cops."

"Yeah, I know."

He winced. "And by cops, I mean the Feds. They're outside."

"What?!" Sam exclaimed.

"What the hell do you mean you're wanted by the FBI?!" My screech almost deafened me.

"Well, there's the murder in St Louis, plus I may have had a little run in with the law in Baltimore."

I raked my fingers through my hair. "Great."

"But Dean, how do they even know you're here?" Sam asked.

"I was taking the guard out. There must have been cameras or something. So what's your little problem?"

"Shifter's in there," I said, though this problem didn't suddenly seem so big. Having the cops on your trail was one thing, but the Feds? They'd bring a whole other world of problems.

"It's Sherri," Sam added.

The guys opened the vault and Dean stepped inside.

"Sherri? We're gonna let you go."

"What? Why me?"

"Uh, as a show of good faith to the Feds, come on."

"Uh ... I think I'd, I'd rather stay here, with the others." She backed up a step. The shifter was taking a different approach than last time.

Dean took another step into the vault, gun held in front of him. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist."

The shifter looked between the three of us. After a beat, she slowly started walking towards us. As soon as she was out, we closed the vault once more and started leading her upstairs.

"I thought you were letting me go." The shifter had been working on its acting skills, that was for sure. None of us answered her.

We got back to the room where Sherri's body still lay. Dean spun the shifter to stare at it. And then the shifter did something none of us had expected: it started screaming. Arms were flailing and it wobbled around on shaky legs.

"Is that community theatre, or are you just naturally that good?" Dean asked.

As she continued to flounder, Sam gripped her tightly around the arm. "This is the last time you become anybody. Ever."

"No! Oh God!" And with a final scream, she fainted.

The three of us stood in stunned silence. Did that really just happen? We all looked between the two bodies on the floor. This didn't make any sense and I wasn't afraid to admit that I was confused as all get-out.

Dean took the rifle off of his shoulder and knelt over the shifter's body. He raised the blade in both hands above his head.

"Wait!" Both Sam and I said, stopping Dean in his tracks.

"This doesn't make any sense," I said.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "What's the advantage of this plan? I mean, fainting now wouldn't help it survive."

Once more, we all looked back and forth between the two Sherris.

"Huh," Dean muttered. He shrugged and got up, going over to kneel by the Sherri who'd had her throat slit.

There was a loud crash from outside. Great. That will be the Feds saying hello. From the corner of my eye, I saw the 'dead' Sherri reach up and grab Dean around the throat. At the same time, the real Sherri woke up and started screaming.

I ran over to the shifter, knocking it sideways and off of Dean.

Sam gathered real Sherri up and took her out of the room.

I slashed at the shifter, cutting it across the stomach. It backhanded me and I went sailing to the floor. I jumped back up, my body refusing to acknowledge any hint of pain. Dean had the shifter pinned down again, trying to stab it, but the shifter was too strong. It threw Dean back. Before it could escape, I locked my arms around it, spinning it to face Dean.

"Dean! Now!"

He lunged at it, but it kicked up, hitting Dean squarely in between the legs. It threw its head back, smashing our heads together. I saw stars and was once again acquainted with the floor. By the time the room stopped spinning, Dean and the shifter were gone. I grabbed my knife from the floor and went in search for them. I raced down the halls, not sure which way they'd gone. As I turned the corner, I skidded to a stop and hurried back behind the wall. The Feds had sent in S.W.A.T. It wouldn't really matter if they spotted me; I could play helpless victim, but that would mean there was one less person going after the shifter. And I'd be damned if it got away.

Everywhere I turned, they were there. I tried multiple floors but couldn't find Dean, Sam, or the shifter. I decided to go down the basement. It seemed the most logical place for someone to go if they were trying to evade someone else. It was certainly quieter down there, aside from the persistent humming of machinery. I opened the door to the boiler room and got smacked in the face, dropping the knife from my hand. I righted myself and looked up to see… me. I was standing there in the same slip of a dress the shifter had worn. Goddamnit! This was a hell of a mindfuck.

"Seriously?" I asked.

She… it.. whatever it was, smiled and shrugged. She leapt at me and I launched my fist at her. We battled together, trading blows.

"Whoa!"

We both turned to see Dean standing in the room, slack-jawed, pointing his gun at us. We all stood there, staring at one another like a scene out of a comical western. If only I had a gun on me.

"Dean… It's me. You know me," the shifter said.

Oh Hell. This was gonna be fun. I swear, if he shoots me…

"Dean, think about this," I said.

"Erm…" Dean looked desperate, seemingly pleading for a sign from above telling him who the real me was.

"Dean, you need to shoot her."

"Come on. It's me."

We both pleaded our cases but we were getting nowhere fast. Then I looked down and wondered why he hadn't figured it out sooner.

"Dean, our clothes."

The shifter suddenly looked panicked. "Don't listen to it! The thing knocked me out and switched our clothes. You know how fast this thing has been moving."

Fuck! That was a good argument.

Dean hummed and dropped his arm, lowering the gun. "You know what? I think I might be dreaming. I'm sure I've had this fantasy before. I mean, two of you, one of me..."

That little… I swore. "Oh, you are such a goddamn pig!"

Dean smiled. "Bingo." He raised the gun and shot the shifter in the arm. It let out an animalistic shriek. Dean grabbed the letter opener from his waistband and flung it directly at it, hitting it square in the chest. I grabbed my knife from the floor and raced over to where the shifter was still standing, Dean following my lead. I dug my knife through its back, while Dean shoved his blade further into it from the front. The breath left its body and the shifter slumped to the floor.

"Ha," Dean said, bracing his hands on his legs, "we just nailed you."

I smacked him round the head. "Moron. You know you could have been wrong, right?"

He stood back up straight. "Oh, I was like eighty percent sure that was the shifter."

My eyebrows rocketed up my forehead. "Only eighty percent?!"

He shrugged. "Why do you think I shot it in the arm first?"

There was a shuffling sound towards the door. We both braced ourselves as a S.W.A.T. officer walked in, flashlight almost blinding us. Then he dropped the light and threw a uniform at Dean.

"Hey. Put this on. I need to get one more." I'd never been so happy to hear Sam's voice.

Before Sam could walk back out, I stopped him. "Wait. Do the cops know about me?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Then go without me."

The boys both erupted at once.

"No way!"

"Not happening!"

"Getting two uniforms was risky enough," I said. "I can play helpless victim hiding in a broom closet and they'll walk me straight out of here." I looked down at 'my' bloody body. "I just gotta hope they don't see that first. Now get changed and get out of here. I'll meet you in the parking lot."

"I don't like this plan," I heard Dean mutter as I left the room.

My plan worked out just as I had said. I sat in the corner of one of the offices until two officers found me. I cried, asking them for help. I even managed to produce tears—I'd obviously missed my calling as an actor. One of the men guided me outside, towards where the rest of the witnesses were being gathered and questioned. Before I could meet anybody's eye, I snuck away, racing through the back alleys to get to the car park.

When I got up to the floor Dean had parked on, I sighed with relief to see the guys already there. The feeling was mutual. We all got into the car, sitting in stunned silence for a moment, thinking back to all that had happened.

"We are so screwed," Dean grumbled.

"You get away ok?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Someone's still gonna come across my dead body though. Luckily I don't have anyone I'm gonna need to explain that to." Who knew that being pretty isolated from everyone and everything would be such a bonus?

Dean started the car and drove back to the hotel so we could clear out our stuff and I could get my truck. We couldn't stay there that night. With the Feds swarming around, it was too close for comfort.

Once we'd got everything, I followed Dean out of town, almost out of state, before we stopped at a small motel. We agreed to stay there for the night, so we could wash off the blood and sweat and get a decent night's sleep. One of us was gonna take the first turn of staying up. We were pretty sure we weren't followed, but it was better to be safe than sorry. I volunteered to take the first watch, once I'd had my shower, and the boys were gonna get some shut eye.

I had just got out of the shower and pulled on my underwear when I heard the door to my room open. I whirled around to find Dean walking in. He stopped short and whistled.

I gathered my towel back up and wrapped it back around me.

"Don't you knock?" I growled.

"In your line of work, you'd think you'd lock the door. Besides I've seen all that before." He smirked.

I shivered. "Don't remind me."

"That's some bruise you got there." His eyes lowered as if he could see through the towel to my ass. "Want me to rub it better? I've heard I've got magic hands." The idiot stood there doing jazz hands.

"Then abracadabra yourself outta here."

"Is that why you were limping the other day? Come on, how'd you do it? I'm kinda dying to know."

"I thought you were supposed to be sleeping anyway?"

"Nah. I'm too wired. And don't change the subject."

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?"

I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. "'Cause you'll make fun."

He chuckled. "Sweetheart, I'm gonna make fun regardless."

Like I'd said earlier, the man was just as stubborn as I was. If he was gonna get this out of me, then I wanted something in return. "Ok, you answer a question and I'll tell you how I got hurt."

"How your ass got bruised; I just wanna be specific here."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever. Deal?"

He nodded. "Ask away."

I thought for a moment about what I could ask him. What would truly be a quid pro quo, because once I told him how I bruised my ass, I would never hear the end of it. It had to be something worth knowing. Then it clicked. "When was the moment you were most scared? And I'm not talking about something involving anyone else. When it was just you versus the monster."

He whistled again. "Damn, Princess. You're not pulling any punches here, are ya?"

I sat down on the side of the bed, making sure the towel covered everything it needed to. He may have seen everything, but that was beside the point. "I think it's more than fair given the case today and… St Louis."

I'd sort of addressed the elephant in the room, kind of acknowledging that yes, something had happened in S Louis which had scared me. And Dean seemed to know all about it. So to me, this was a perfect 'eye-for-an-eye' situation.

Dean became more sombre, like he realised exactly what my train of thought was, and I knew there were gonna be no more jokes from him. "Ok. I guess the most scared I've been… let's see… Oh! We had a case not too long ago where this house had all these freakish dolls and—"

"Dean." I guess I'd been wrong about the jokes.

"What? I'm being deadly serious. They were as scary as any monster I've ever faced."

I just stared at him. If he wasn't going to take this seriously—

"Ok, ok," he said as he came to sit beside me. "In all honesty, I can't answer your question properly. No, wait," he said when I opened my mouth to tell him he could leave. "You said not involving anyone else but…" He sighed heavily. "In all honesty, this stuff with Sam has me scared to death."

That answer was a lot more real than I actually thought I would get.

"I'm worried that something's gonna happen to him. Something that I can't stop. And then I'll… I'll be alone."

Holy cow. I didn't know how to respond to that. He sat there, staring blindly at the floor. He all of a sudden looked so lost and broken. I kinda felt bad for asking that question, making him dredge all of that up.

"I slipped on a banana peel," I whispered into the silence.

He turned to me. "You… I'm sorry… you what?"

"You heard me." I slapped him lightly on the chest with the back of my hand. "Don't make me repeat myself."

He stared at me for a moment longer before bursting into laughter.

"Princess… that's… that's…"

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up."

"Was it just like the cartoons? I can picture it so clearly," he managed to say through the laughter, almost curling up on the bed because of it.

"I don't know why someone would just leave that on the floor outside a bar! Who goes around eating a banana in public anyway?"

His laughter was contagious, and I couldn't help but chuckle along with him. I didn't outright laugh, because my butt hurt like mad.

"Can you do a re-enactment? Like one of those crime shows."

I dragged him off the bed, heading to the door. "Alright, you've had your laugh. Now go."

"Oh come on, Princess—"

"Bye Dean!" I pushed him out the door and closed it behind him, making sure to lock it this time. I could still hear his laughter as he walked back to his room.

Something had definitely shifted in my relationship with Dean recently. I couldn't say I actually hated him, though he had his moments when he still made me want to rip my hair out. But sharing this laugh with him, knowing each other's pain, showed me another side. Maybe he wasn't all that bad.