hey guys! I'm so excited I got a beta! So excited!

well, without further ado

Dean sat in the dimly lit room his hands folded on his lap as he watched police officers mill around the office. A stout man walked into the room holding a file box full of the clippings from his dad's room.

"You gonna give us your real name?" He asked setting the box down sharply on the table.

"I told you it's Nugent, Ted Nugent." Dean smirked.

The man narrowed his eyes, "I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here."

"We talkin', like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?" Dean asked, his tone cocky.

"You've got the faces of ten missing persons on your wall," The sheriff said, "Along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo-jumbo. Boy, you are officially a suspect."

"Yeah, that makes sense," Dean said sarcastically, "Because when the first one went missing in '82 I was three."

"I know you've got partners. One of 'em's an older guy. Maybe he started the whole thing." The cop speculated, and then paused, "So tell me. Dean."

He looked up slightly. The sheriff tossed his dads leather-covered journal on the table.

'Why would dad leave that here? He takes it with him wherever he goes' Dean asked himself.

The man continued, "Is this his?"

Dean stared at it, and the sheriff placed it on the edge of the table. He began to flip through the journal that was filled with everything John knew about the supernatural.

"I thought that might be your name. See, I leafed through," The round cop said, Dean thought he looked round, "What little I could make out—I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy."

Dean looked forward to see what the cop was talking about.

"But I found this, too."

The sheriff opened the journal to a page that said "DEAN 35-111" circled in red, and nothing else.

"Now." The cop started firmly, "You're stayin' right here till you tell me exactly what the hell that means."

'Yeah like hell I'm telling you,' Dean thought as he stared down at the page. He looked up.

(Meanwhile in the impala)

"So that's why you got fired? For that?" Sam asked laughing.

I nodded, "Yup, apparently because I dropped a box of crackers I was "out to get" my boss."

He burst out laughing.

"Hey," I said, "We should probably get Dean out now."

"Yeah probably."

"Can I make the fake 911 call, please?" I asked excitedly.

He gave me a look but said, "Whatever."

"Yay!" I took my phone out of my pocket and dialed 911, "Hello 911?"

"I don't know how many time I have to tell you," Dean shrugged smugly, "It's my high school locker combo."

"Are we gonna do this all nigh-" Another cop walked in and said, "We just got a 911, shots fired on whiteford road."

'Good job Sammy,' he thought.

'The round sheriff turned back to him, "Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"No." 'Why would I-?"

The sheriff cuffed Dean's hand to the desk, "Good."

'Oh.'

He walked out. Dean looked at the door before something in the journal caught his eye.

It was a paper clip.

He picked it up and looked at it, 'Idiots.'

He smirked.

(Impala)

Not even ten minutes after calling the cops, Sam's phone rang.

"Fake 911 phone call? I don't know, that's pretty illegal," Dean joked through the phone.

"You're welcome," Sam told him.

"Look, we gotta talk," Dean said.

"Yeah, We are dealing with a woman in white, she's buried behind her old house, which should've been dad's next stop," Sam said.

"Sammy, will you shut up for a second?" He asked.

"I just can't figure out why he hasn't destroyed the corpse yet."

Where was the popcorn when I needed it?

"Well that's what I'm trying to say," Dean told him, "he's gone, dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you know?"

I interrupted, "Cause' he left his journal behind."

"But he doesn't go anywhere without that thing," Sam commented.

"Yeah, well he did this time."

"What does it say?" he asked.

"Coordinates," I told him trying to save time.

"Where to?"

"I'm not sure yet," Dean replied.

"Dean that the hell is going on?" He asked confused.

Oh crap, I at least knew what part came next. I was hyper aware of the iron pipe by my feet. The ghost flashed in front of us.

"Whoa!" The tires screeched as he slammed on the breaks.

"Sam! Sam!"

Sam was breathing heavily, and if I was honest with myself, I was worse. I grabbed the pipe from its place and gripped it tight.

"Take me home," The woman in white said in that freaky ass echo-y voice of hers from the back seat.

Sam stared at her through the mirror in shock.

"Take me home," She repeated with more force.

He looked at the corner of his eye, "No."

Then it happened. The locks clicked, and car started moving forward. Sam tried to get back control without success.

It drove us right up to the house. Well this isn't creepy at all. Note the sarcasm.

Sam looked at her in the mirror, "Don't do this."

"I can never go home," she said, but this time her words had a trace of sadness in them. Like I said, creepy.

"You're scared to go home," Sam realized.

Then she was gone. I raised the iron pipe slightly though as not to draw attention.

Well… it didn't turn out how I'd hoped. Since I was in the front seat already, she just appeared on top of him.

"Hold me," she said, "I'm so cold."

She then started kissing Sam, Sam was trying to get away.

That's it. I can't watch this! I raised my pipe and swung it at the ghost. She flickered, but went on trying the take advantage of Sam. This is so wrong! I cringed totally grossed out.

"You can't kill me," Sam said, "I'm not unfaithful, I've never been."

"You will be." She promised.

I hit her with the pipe again. She flickered once again, so I hit her again. She blinked out. Oh no…

Sam screamed, there was a hand in his chest. I whacked her again; she flickered badly but nothing.

I ducked under the dashboard knowing what was coming.

Finally a bullet flew through the air, and continued to until the ghost disappeared.

Then I heard an "I'm taking you home", and then the car accelerated as Sam drove us through the wall. Go Sammy! We came to a violent stop as we crashed into the inner wall debris falling onto the car.

He groaned.

"It's ok Sam," I said tiredly, "Pretty sure you'll live."

He rolled his eyes holding a hand to the gashes on his chest.

Dean chose that moment to come running in. He hurried over to the driver's side of the impala and wrenched the door open. "Sam!"

"Here!" Sam groaned.

I sighed and got out. Hunting seemed a lot cooler on TV, but it did give me a rush.

"You ok?" Dean asked.

"I think," Sam said.

I nodded.

"Can you move?" Dean asked him.

"Yeah. Help me," he told Dean.

I noticed in the corner of my eye the ghost chick had picked up a picture, and was looking at it.

Dean and I helped Sam out of the car, the ghost glared at us. Oh no. She threw the picture down and glared at us.

Suddenly we were being pinned by a …..dresser? I looked down, yeah, definitely a dresser.

I groaned trying to get the crushing weight off me but to no avail. Somehow the lights started flickering… since when were the lights on?

Water poured down from the stairs, and onto the floor. I knew what came next. Constance walked a little ways towards the stairs; she looked terrified. A couple of ghost kids stood at the top of the stairs, "You've come home to us mommy."

Ok ghosts are freaky, so are ghost kids, but ghost kids speaking in unison… now that's really freaky.

The children teleported, and were suddenly embracing their mom. She screamed, I couldn't describe what happened next; they downplayed it in the show. It was twice as grotesque. After the whole… glob, She screamed and it all just disappeared with the sound of a drain.

We were looking at the spot with a look of shock on our faces, before pushing the dresser off ourselves.

"Well," Dean started, "Looks like this is where she drowned her kids."

Sam said, "That's why she could never go home. She was too scared face them."

I rolled my eyes, "Thank you captain obvious."

"You found her weak spot, nice work Sammy," He slapped Sam on the back.

"Ah!" He laughed through the pain, "Yeah, I wish I could say the same for you. What were thinking shooting Casper in the face you freak?"

I pretended to think about it, "Oh I know this one! 'Son of a bitch!' What do I win?"

Dean looked at me in surprise; I smirked, score 1 to Rebecca.

"I'll tell you another thing," Dean said to Sam while leaning down to look at his car, "If you screwed up my car, I'll kill you."

About an hour later we were all sitting in the impala, sadly I had gotten bumped to the back seat.

We were talking about were the coordinates led too. Well we were until I started thinking about the next couple of hours.

Then I was doing too much thinking to say much.

"Ok, here's where dad went," Sam said pointing to somewhere on the map, "It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado."

"I could have told you that," I told them leaning my head against the window.

I didn't feel like talking.

"Sounds charming, how far?" Dean asked.

"About six hundred miles," Sam responded.

"Hey, if we shag ass we could make it by morning," Dean told Sam.

Sam looked at him hesitating, "Dean, I, um…"

Dean glanced at the road and back.

"You're not going," It wasn't a question.

'Yes he is, of course he is,' I thought sadly, 'life isn't kind enough to leave him be.'

"The interview is in like, ten hours," Sam said, "I gotta be there."

Dean noded, looking disappointed. Before watching the road again, "I'll take you home."

"Hey Rebecca, you're quiet," Sam said looking at me through the rear view mirror eyes forming a question.

"A lot on my mind," I told him honestly.

What the heck was I going to do? I knew about stuff before it happened, I mean I knew I couldn't prevent this death, but is that what I was supposed to do here? Save lives?

I mean… gosh, all this thinking was making my head hurt.

"Can we stop for coffee?" I asked.

God knows I needed it.

"Sure," Dean told me, "I need something to keep me up anyway."

So we stopped at a Dutch bros, and got coffee, well Dean and I got coffee, Sam got tea.

Despite what Dean kept telling me, the Dutch freeze was in fact coffee.

I felt better having some caffeine in my veins. Yes, I might've been a bit of a caffeine addict, but that's ok.

Besides, I didn't feel like I would've gotten much sleep that night anyway.

We pulled up in front of Sam's apartment, Dean was still frowning, and I was still thinking.

Sam got out, but leant over to look through the window, "Call me if you find him?"

Dean nodded; I stayed silent. We wouldn't need to call him.

"Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?" He asked.

Dean nodded, "Yeah, alright."

Sam patted the car door then turned away. Dean leaned towards the passenger door; an arm went over the back of the seat.

"Sam?" He asks.

Sam turned around.

"You know," Dean smiled, "We made a hell of a team back there."

He nodded and headed inside. My gut was screaming at me.

Just as he was about to drive off I lost my nerve, "No!"

Dean looked at me confused, "What?"

I just said, "No time to explain", and opened my door and sprinted towards Sam's apartment, no doubt leaving Dean confused, but following after me.

I opened the door; it was unlocked. I decided not to think on that thought and ran in. I looked around; he wasn't in the living room. I desperately hoped he was in the kitchen, or anywhere else besides the bedroom.

But that hope was dashed when I heard him scream from another room. Dean was suddenly behind me.

"Do something!" I yelled at him.

He ran over and wrenched open the door.

"Jess! Jess!" Sam yelled heart broken, and still frozen in shock on the bed.

"Sam!" I yelled.

"Jess!" He cried.

I swear, that shatter you just heard was my heart.

"Sam!" Dean tried.

"Jess," he said less loudly this time.

"We gotta get out of here!" I yelled. The flames seemed to be everywhere.

Dean yanked an unwilling Sam out of his bed and manhandled him down the stairs. I helped Dean push him down and out of the house my heart breaking as I did. Oh Sammy.

I heard the sound of sirens all around us as we rushed away towards the crowd that had formed around the apartment complex.

A fire truck was parked outside the building; firemen and police were keeping back gawkers as they put out the fire.

We all stood at the trunk of the impala as we watched the scene unfold.

On Sam's face was a look of desperate anger.

He threw the gun that propped the trunk open back inside, and slammed it, "We got work to do."