A book was set on the table in front of a cuffed Dean. His hands were no longer behind his back like they were at the time of the arrest.

When asked what his real name was, Dean said it was Ted Nugent. The sheriff who was interrogating him couldn't tell if the young man before him thought this was a joke or was just crazy. Maybe there was a little bit of both.

"I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in here," the sheriff expressed his mind.

"We talkin', like, misdemeanor kind of trouble or, uh, squeal like a pig trouble?"

"You got the faces of ten missing persons taped to your wall. Along with a whole lot of Satanic mumbo-jumbo. Boy, you are officially a suspect."

"That makes sense. 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. You are traveling with his daughter, aren't you? So, tell me. Dean." A brown leather-covered journal was tossed on the table. "This his?"

Dean stared at it. The Sheriff sat on the edge of the table. He flipped through the journal. Like the walls of the motel room, it was also filled with newspaper clippings, notes, and pictures.

"I thought that might be your name. See, I leafed through this. What little I could make out-I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy… But I found this, too." The page the sheriff stopped at had a note only a trained Winchester or someone with a military background would understand. "Now. You're stayin' right here till you tell me exactly what the hell that means."

Sam pulled up along a chain link fence. Before opening the Impala's door, he looked in the rearview mirror. The little girl who had clung to him for hours had finally let go of him and was sound asleep.

He rolled the windows down ever so slightly. He did so just to be safe. It was still morning in California, which meant it was cool. Not knowing how long they were going to be at this house, Sam thought he'd prepare the car for when it would warm up.

After locking the doors, Sam walked away from the car. Abby rolled onto her side, toward the seat's back. The kid was so tired from staying up all night that she didn't feel herself fall asleep at the motel.

Sam wasn't gone long, but it was long enough. Abby woke up in time to see Sam coming back to the car. He looked sad, but at the same time, he'd gotten the answers he was looking for. But it wasn't what was going on outside the car that woke her up. It was her stomach.

The Impala's keys rose from his pocket. He set one in the keyhole, rotated it, and pulled the key back out. The locking mechanism pop up, drawing the child's attention.

"Hey," he chuckled. "Look who's up." Her stomach growled again.

"Where's DD?"

"Dean's, uh… Dean's a little tied up right now."

"Daddy said that means he was arrested… Will he get out before we leave?"

"I don't know, Shortround. If he does, it won't be the legal way," he said, surprised she knew what tied up meant. "How'd you sleep?"

"Can we get some food, Sammy?" she asked. Sam was glad for the change of subject.

"It doesn't really answer my question, but sure. What do you want?"

She appeared to be thinking, but that didn't last long.

"Nuggets and chocolate hot sauce."

He gagged at the request. Once again, it wasn't even something Dean would order for himself. Both brothers had referred to her appetite as that of an expectant mother.

Neither brother had caught on that this was her way of getting pure sugar.

Hours had gone by, and Dean was still sitting in the interrogation room with his hands cuffed in front of him. The sheriff was determined to figure out what Dean 35-111 meant, and he wasn't taking what Dean was giving him as an answer.

At least the man hadn't brought Abby up a lot. She probably would have been the main focus had the arresting deputy not found all the stuff in John's room.

"We gonna do this all night long?" the sheriff said before being pulled away by a 9-1-1 call. Shots were fired.

This was the one and only time Dean was offered a bathroom break and he turned it down. The Sheriff handcuffed him to the table and left without thinking to check for escape routes.

There was a paper clip poking out of the journal, He pulled it out, and looked at it. Dean waited until every deputy had left the bullpen before he picked the cuffs. He grabbed his father's journal and made his way to a fire escape.

Once on the ground, he called Sam from the nearest phone booth.

Dean couldn't help but be proud of his future lawyer brother breaking the law again. And Sam could hear it in his voice.

"Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal."

"You're welcome," Sam grinned. It was like he couldn't believe how quickly this was all coming back, or how natural it felt.

"Sammy?" Abby said. There was fear in her voice that had gone unnoticed. Sam was so focused on this case and finding their dad that he hadn't even heard her.

"Listen, we gotta talk."

"Tell me about it. So, the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop."

"Sammy, would you shut up for a second?"

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

"Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Do not tell Abs this. Dad left Jericho."

"What? How do you know?"

"I've got his journal… It's the Same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going."

Out of frustration, Sam picked up speed. "I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job?"

"SAMMY!" Abby screamed pointing ahead of the car. Sam looked up, immediately slamming his foot on the brake, dropping the phone. Constance stood on the road before them. His reaction wasn't quick enough, not that it mattered. The car drove right through the ghost until it came to a halt.

There was an uncomfortable silence from the back seat instead of the usual child's babble. Not even a whimper of fear. Just silence. Constance's ghost sat in the back with a passed-out Abby. Sam was going to have to check on her once he was given the chance.

"Take me home," Constance said over Sam's heavy breaths. When he didn't make any sign of movement, especially to her liking, every door locked. If a window was open, it rolled up. "Take me home!"

"No."

His response continued to upset her. He was going to do what she asked whether he wanted to or not. Without leaving the back seat, Constance put the pedal to the medal.

The car drove itself to an abandoned house. Sam tried to steer, even slammed on the brake, but nothing worked until the car came to a stop. The engine turned off as did the headlights.

A lot of things had happened between the time Abby fainted in the back seat to the seconds the brothers had pulled her from the car to check on her.

The ghost tried to make Sam one of her victims. Dean shot it with rock salt. Sam drove the Impala and Constance into the crumbling house. She wanted to go home, but she was afraid to. She was afraid of her ghost children who had drowned in the bathtub.

"So, this is where she drowned her kids," Dean said, thinking out loud. He held Abby in his arms. If she were alert, she would have been choking the life out of him. She hadn't been that close to their work in a little over a year.

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

"Here. Take Abs. I'm gonna check on Baby… You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy."

With his free hand, Dean slapped Sam on the chest where he'd been injured by Constance and walked away. Sam laughed through the pain. Dean passed Abby over to Sam.

He held her to his chest like he used to when she was smaller. Her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I wish I could say the Same for you. What were you thinking shooting Casper in the face, you freak?"

"Hey. Saved your…" Abby started moving. She rubbed her eyes. It was difficult to tell if she was just coming to, or had already come around and was waking up from a real sleep. "Ass." Dean leaned over to look at the car before continuing. "I'll tell you another thing. If you screwed up my car? I'll kill you."

Dean pulled up in front of Sam's apartment building. A frown on his face because his brother wasn't going to join them in the continued search for their father.

"Come on, Dean. Would it be so terrible for Abby to stay where she'd be safe?"

"I'd love nothing more than for her to be safe, Sam. I would. But-"

"Dad… right." Sam stepped out of the car, saying, "Call me if you find him? Maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?"

"Yeah, all right."

Dean had agreed to that offhandedly, then pulled away.

Sam let himself into his apartment. Everything was dark and quiet.

"Jess?" Sam called out. There was no answer. "You home?"

There was a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table. A note that read Miss you! Love you! was between the plate and a National Geographic. Sam picked a cookie up and ate it as he snuck into the bedroom, smiling. He couldn't help but think how his sister would have loved a batch of his girlfriend's cookies with jalapenos.

The shower was running so he didn't think anything of the damning silence. He sat on the bed, shut his eyes, and flopped onto his back.

Blood dripped onto Sam's forehead. He flinched and opened his eyes to see Jess pinned to the ceiling, staring down at him. Bleeding from the belly.

Sam shouted but no sound was coming out. And the ceiling had burst into flames.

Abby jolted awake like she had two nights before. Why was she having these dreams turned nightmares? She opened her eyes to find her head on a pillow, a blanket covering her, and what didn't feel like the Impala's back seat under her body. They'd gotten a motel room. Two beds. Sam had no intention of resting until he had deprived himself of sleep to the point of passing out himself.

"We'll stick around for a bit, check things out," Dean said. Sam acted like he hadn't heard anything. "Better check on Abs. She just had that dream again."

He would have checked on her himself. But he only suggested Sam be the one to check on her as a distraction, however small it was.

The bet he had made with Sam would have happened had his brother come back to the family business of his own free will and not with revenge on his mind. Dean just wasn't so sure it should happen the same night Sam's girlfriend was murdered.

"This about the bet?"

"No. You let me know when you're ready for that. Right now, I just think you need a distraction. And she needs you. You just lived her nightmare. So… you might need her, too."

Sam stood up, stretching his aching muscles.

"How sure are you?"

Dean pointed with his head in response. Sam looked toward the bed to see Abby sitting up, rubbing her eyes, and looking like she was going to scream.

He went over to the bed and sat down. His arms found their way around the little girl who took great comfort in the physical contact. Again, Abby buried her face in his torso.

Sam leaned against the headrest in a semi sitting position. Abby had only started having the last part of the dreams around the time Sam came back into their lives. Around the time she had seen yellow irises.

He spoke in soothing tones, if not for her than for himself. It felt like old times to Sam. He was the one to comfort her every night Dean or John weren't present until Stanford.

Before college, he was the one who stayed with her in the motels. Like Dean had with him. She was so much smaller way back then, but now, here she was. Still small beside his 6'7" frame. And sound asleep.