A/N: WARNINGS: Suicide mentions, basically me trauma dumping. have fun :)

Something Wicked

I walked out of the nasty gas station bathroom that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months. A group of creepy looking drug addicts sat at the foot of the gas station, making me run back to Dean and Sam as possible.

Sam was logging onto the terrible wifi and looking exasperatedly at his brother. "Dude, I ran LexisNexis, local police reports, newspapers, I couldn't find a single red flag. Are you sure you got the coordinates right?"

"Yeah, I double checked. It's Fitchburg, Wisconsin. Dad wouldn't have sent us coordinates if it wasn't important Sammy."

Sam gave out a frustrated groan. "Well I'm telling you I looked and all I could find was a big steamy pile of nothing. If Dad's sending us hunting for something I don't know what."

"Well maybe he's going to meet us there."

"Dean, that's what you said last time when John sent us coordinates." I pointed out. "And Sam. This has to be a job."

Sam scowled. "And I'm telling you two that there's nothing suspicious out there. Are you sure you even read and gave Dean the right coordinates."

"Don't worry Sammy, I double checked."

"Good to know that no one in this family trusts me." I swung my leg over my bike and settled in. "Come on, let's go."

"Since when do you call the shots?" Sam scoffed.

"Ever since I've been the oldest." I smirked.

"It's just four months!" Dean threw his hands up in defeat. "You don't call the shots in bed!" I reddened.

"Okay, okay. Can we not talk about this?" Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's go, alright? I call Uncle."

I zoomed past the sign that read 'Fitchburg, Population: 20,501'. Wow. This was one of the larger towns we ever stopped at. It felt weird. I'd grown up in a city with three high schools, and my high school alone had a graduating class of 2000 seniors. And to think that now 20,501 seemed like a lot.

We parked the car at a local playground where a lone child played on the swings. Glasgow's Diner was right behind us, and Dean had offered to get us coffees and a pie for himself.

"Think he's gotten the waitress' number yet?" Sam asked, glancing at the cute waitress through the diner's windows.

"He's definitely getting a good beating." I swung my legs on Baby's hood. Her black paint was hot against my bare legs under the sun. "How's Jess?"

"She said work was going pretty good." A small smile tugged at his lips. "There's this girl in the cubicle next to her that she's hanging out with soon." His smile faltered. "She asked me if I was going back to her."

"You could. You know."

"Would Dean be okay with it?" His eyes remained on Dean. I followed his gaze to the man that was still leaning over the counter, chatting up a thin blonde with a cleavage that showed off just a little too much.

"Right." Dean needed his family. It was all he knew. Sam was all he knew, all he had. Him and Baby. That was all Dean cared about. "He looks happy." I turned to the younger man leaning on the Impala next to me. "But you also deserve to be happy." I pressed my lips together as I remembered all the times the brothers sacrificed themselves for each other. Each episode, each death flashed through my mind and I had to blink back tears to keep myself in check. John Winchester. That was the first death I needed to prevent. To give the brothers the remotely happy life they deserved.

"I found a ring." Sam whispered. "Kind of." He scratched the back of his head. "I think I know what kind of ring Jess would like." Oh. he was already thinking about marriage. "But I don't know how to bring it up. I mean– I don't exactly live with her." He fumbled with his fingers. He looked so young. "I-I do want something with her– you know. I do love her." He leaned back, tilting his head up to the sky. "But I don't know if I can leave Dean alone." He straightened up to look at me. "You'll take care of him, right? If I do go to Jess? Once we find Dad I mean."

I didn't want to make an empty promise. How was I going to word this? I was saved by a proud laugh. Dean came back with two coffees stacked on top of each other. He passed them out and I opened the lid to make sure it was what I'd ordered.

"Did you get the sugar?" I said instead.

"O'course, sweetheart." He squeezed between me and Sam, looking perfectly content with both of us on either side.

"Any of you got the time?" Sam asked suddenly.

I sipped my coffee. "For what?"

Dean chuckled and brushed his hand against mine. "He means 'what time is it'." Dean provided. "Ten after four." Oh. I ducked my head behind my hair in embarrassment. Stupid English. "Why?" Dean's hand squeezed mine gently before leaving it altogether, choosing to dig into the pie instead.

"What's wrong with this picture?" Sam motioned towards the empty park.

"School's out isn't it?" Dean said through a mouthful of food.

Sam ignored the munching noise. "Yeah. So where is everybody? This place should be crawling with kids right now."

I spotted a woman reading a magazine on a bench. "Let's find out." I squared my shoulders and inhaled sharply, prepping myself for social interaction. "Hi." I said with the sweetest smile I could muster.

"Hi." she looked up with a questioning gaze.

"It's kind of… quiet out here." I motioned to the empty playground.

"Yeah, it's a shame." the woman's gaze wandered to the one child playing on the swings.

"Is there a reason why there are no kids around? I mean, school is out, right?"

"Oh you know, what with the kids getting sick, it's a terrible thing."

"Oh dear. How many?"

"Just five or six but serious, hospital serious. A lot of parents are getting pretty anxious. They think it's catching."

"Yikes." was all I could say.

Dean, Sam, and I walked into the hospital. We used the Emergency entrance, the one entrance from where anyone could walk in. I nodded confidently at the police officer as did Dean and Sam. the man nodded back. I glanced at the floor guide right by the elevator. I entered the elevator and sighed at the note taped next to the floor we were supposed to be on. 'Access to hospital staff and guests only'. I hit the button and the elevator went up.

"We're gonna have to show our badges." I stared at the words on the bottom. 'Investigating Stripper' it says. "Really, Dean?"

He snickered. I smoothed out my hair and fixed my ponytail tighter. I had the whole suit thing going, full with my glasses and flat pumps clicking against the cool tile floor. Hospitals were seriously depressing. Once we got to the double doors, I pressed the buzzer right by the entrance. We waited for the voice on the other side to talk.

"Dude." Sam hissed to his brother. "Dude, I am not using this ID."

"Why not?" Dean grinned.

"Bi-" Sam stammered. "Bikini inspector?"

"Don't worry she won't look that close all right? Hell, she won't even ask to see it. It's all about confidence Sammy."

I pushed the two bickering brothers back. "I'll do it." How I was feeling so bold today I had no idea. "Hello." I said once the person on the other side asked "Hello". "I'm here from the CDC. Dr. Jennie Lisa."

"Can I see some ID?" The person spoke.

"Here." I made sure to press my ID against the camera, showing off only the CDC sign instead of the 'Investigating Stripper'. "I've got two other officers with me. May we be allowed in the pediatrics ward?"

"Mhm." The person on the other side hummed.

The double doors opened and we walked into the pediatrics ward. Little giraffes and turtles and elephants and whatnot were painted in bright colours. Most of the nurses were female, petite little things with their hair tied back neatly and bright accessories lighting up their drab blue uniforms.

Dean whistled as his eyes trained on one specific well endowed nurse. "See. I told you it would work." Dean leaned in next to my ear. "You should get one of those. Without the pants."

I gave him a side eye and walked up to the tiny blonde nurse clicking away on the computer with her long nails. "Hello." I greeted.

She looked up. "From the CDC?" Her voice was sweet, and her plump lips looked really good. Oh great, I was no better than a man. I forced myself to look at her big blue eyes instead.

"Yes ma'am." Dean leaned on the counter, flashing her a winning smile. Oh the bastard. He wasn't even trynna hide it. The nurse blushed at the attention.

Sam cut in. "We were wondering if we could talk to a doctor with any information on the sick children."

The nurse nodded. "Sure. Wait right here, and I'll call him." She punched a few numbers on the telephone and put it up to her ear.

"This place is awesome." mused Dean. "I'm telling you you need to get those nurse outfits."

"They're called scrubs." Sam chimed. "And quit eye fucking everyone you see."

Just then a baby waddled down the hallway with their dad and Dean snorted. "Well I'm not eye fucking everyone."

I jammed my pumps into the two men's dress shoes. "Can we not have this conversation in the frigging pediatrics department."

"Hello," a voice called out. The three of us straightened up. I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and fixed my glasses. Sam smoothed his suit over and Dean stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Dr. Heidecker."

"Nice to meet you doctor." Dean shook firmly. Sam and I followed suit.

"Well I'm glad you guys are here, I was just about to call CDC myself." The doctor looked at us curiously. "How'd you find out anyways?"

"Oh some GP, I forget his name, he called Atlanta and musta beat you to the punch."

"So we heard you got six cases so far?" Sam tilted his head.

"Yeah, five weeks. At first we thought it was garden variety bacterial pneumonia. Not that newsworthy. And now…" the doctor shook his head.

"Now what?"

"Kids aren't responding to antibiotics. Their white cell counts keep going down. Their immune systems aren't doing their job. It's like their bodies are wearing out."

A nurse walked up to the man and passed him a few charts.

"You ever see anything like this before?"

He absentmindedly signed them with a slight frown. "Never this severe."

The nurse from earlier continued. "And the way it spreads… that's a new one for me.

"How come?" I asked.

"It works its way through families. But only the children, one sibling after the other."

"Huh. That's interesting." I looked at an unconscious little boy through the transparent windows. "Is it alright if we talked to some of the kids? See what's going on?"

"They're not conscious." the nurse shuddered.

"None of them?" Sam asked.

"No."

"Can we, uh, can we talk to the parents?" Dean motioned to the mother and father duo huddled over the unconscious boy jumping every time the respirator keeping their son alive beeped.

"If you think it will help." Dr. Heidecker answered.

"Yeah… who was your latest admission?"

In the waiting room was a man sitting with his head in his hands. "I should get back to my girls." He pleaded.

I sat down next to the man. "We understand. But just a couple more questions sir. This could really help us determine what's going on with your girls."

That seemed to get the man going again and he nodded weakly.

Sam started questioning again. "You say Mary is the oldest?"

"Thirteen."

"Ok. And she came down with it first right? And then…"

"Bethany, the next night."

"Within 24 hours?"

"I guess. Look, I already went through all this with the Doctor."

"Just a few more questions if you don't mind." Dean's voice left no room for argument. "How do you think they caught pneumonia? Were they out in the cold, anything like that?"

The man swallowed. "No. We think it was an open window."

"Both times?"

"The first time I don't really remember but the second time for sure. And I know I closed it before I put Bethany to bed."

"Is it possible that she opened it?"

"It's a second story window with a ledge. No one else could have."

I pressed my lips together. This case was shockingly similar to an episode from Supernatural.

Sam, Dean, and I walked down the hallway. "You know this might not be anything supernatural, it might just be pneumonia."

"Maybe. Or maybe something opened that window." Dean winked at a passing nurse. "I don't know man, Dad sent us down here for a reason. I think we may be barking up the right tree."

I did know this episode. It was the one where Sam and Dean took down the monster from their childhood. The one that had solidified Dean's role as Sam's primary caretaker. The one that had John yell and panic so much Dean was now too terrified to even leave Sam alone.

"Sharon." I snapped my head up at Sam's voice. "You comin'?" I hadn't even realised that I'd slowed down.

"Yeah. Sorry."

We snuck into the house of the man from earlier. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. The EMF meters in our hands barely buzzed even near the electrical lines. Nothing. This house was clean. I frowned. I didn't even remember what kind of monster this was.

"You guys got anything over there?"

"No. Nothing." Dean responded.

"Nothing here either." I got up the last step of the stairs.

"Yeah, me neither."

The three of us moved into another room, Bethany's room, I realised. Sam opened up the window.

"Hey guys?"

Dean and I walked over to Sam. "What?"

"Dean was right. It's not pneumonia."

I followed Sam's gaze to a handprint on the wooden window sill.

"It's rotted. What the hell leaves a handprint like that?"

"I know why Dad sent us here." Dean's face dawned with realisation. "He's faced this thing before. He wants us to finish the job."

"So what the hell is a…" Sam tested the word on his tongue. "Shtriga?" I remembered the word Shtriga, but nothing useful came to mind. If this was the case with the two little brothers and the young single mother then all I knew was that we could shoot the thing.

"Kinda like a witch I think. I don't know much about them." Dean led us into the motel reception.

"Well I've never heard of it. And it's not in Dad's journal."

"Dad hunted one in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, about 16-17 years ago. You were there, you don't remember?" Dean really remembered everything, didn't he? My throat closed up at the thought. He was always thinking, always on guard.

"No."

"Guess he caught wind the thing's in Fitzburg now and kicked us the coordinates."

"So wait, this…"

"Shtriga." I provided.

"Right, you think it's the same one Dad hunted before?"

"Yeah maybe." Dean shifted uneasily.

"But if Dad went after it, how come it's still breathing air?"

"Cause it got away."

"Got away?"

Dean was starting to get frustrated. "Yeah Sammy, it happens."

"Not very often." Sam pressed on.

"Well I don't know what to tell ya, maybe Dad didn't have his wheaties that morning." Dean shoved his hands deeper into his flannel and refused to look Sam in the eye.

"What else do you remember?"

Dean got defensive and spat. "Nothing, I was a kid all right?"

Sam looked upset.

I decided to take over before it got worse. "Hey, Sam. It's alright. We'll take care of it. I'm sure one of Bobby's books has it." Sam nodded. But he kept glancing at his brother. "Don't worry." I whispered to Sam. "I'll take care of him."

Dean rang the bell and a young boy, around ten or twelve came grinning to the counter. As the door shut behind him, I spotted a younger boy sprawled on the couch, watching TV. Dean stiffened up beside me. I should talk, right?

"Hey." I smiled at the kid.

"Two kings? Or separate rooms?" The boy said. He sounded insanely professional.

I glanced at the brothers. "Two kings." I passed him my card.

The kid smirked. "Yeah, I'll bet."

I didn't wanna know what the kid was thinking. But I was petty. "I know right. Two handsome men." I smirked.

The kid's grin faltered and he took the card I'd slid onto the counter.

"Hi!" a woman suddenly came rushing out of the door. "Checking in?" she glanced at her son holding my card.

"Yeah." I responded. "Good kid."

"Oh." the woman blushed. She nudged the boy. "Go get your brother dinner."

"But mom–"

"Go." she pointed at the door and the kid disappeared with a groan. "Sorry about that." She smiled at me. She looked exhausted.

"No problem." I glanced at Dean who stared after the kid that was now pouring his brother a glass of milk. "We'll pay per night."

"Sure." she passed me back the card. "Have a good stay."

"Well you were right. It wasn't very easy to find but you were right. Shtriga is a kind of witch." Sam said, looking up from my iPad. "They're Albanian, but legends about them trace back to ancient rome. They feed off spiritus vitae."

I finished sharpening the machete that had started losing its edge.

Dean continued poring over the map he'd spread over the bed. "Spiri-what?" Dean asked.

"Vitae. It's Latin, translates to 'breath of life'." Sam scrolled through the document he was on. "Kinda like your life force or essence."

"Didn't the Doctor say the kids' bodies were wearing out?"

"It's a thought. You know she takes your vitality, maybe your immunity goes to hell, pneumonia takes hold." Sam wondered aloud. "Anyway, Shtrigas can feed off anyone but they prefer…"

"Children." Dean finished the thought.

"Yeah, probably because they have stronger life force." Sam didn't seem to notice. "And get this. Shtrigas are '…invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man.'"

"No, that's not right. She's vulnerable when she feeds."

"What?"

"If you catch her when she's eating you can blast her with consecrated wrought iron. Uhh… buckshots or rounds I think."

Sam opened his mouth to question Dean's knowledge but I shot him a look. He wisely closed his mouth. I leaned against Dean's arm in a silent gesture of comfort. He didn't move but I could feel the muscles in his shoulders grow a little less tense.

"What else did you find out?" I prompted Sam.

"Okay. So, assuming we can kill it when it eats we gotta find the thing first. It ain't gonna be a cakewalk. Shtrigas take on a human disguise when they're not hunting."

"What kinda human disguise?" Dean asked.

"Historically, something innocuous. Could be anything, but it's usually a feeble old woman, which might be how the witches as old crones legend got started."

Dean frowned. "Hang on." I lifted my head from his shoulder to look at the map he'd finished marking. "Check this out. I marked down all the addresses of the victims. Now these are the houses that have been hit so far, and dead centre?" He twirled the pen on one particular spot of the map. I had no idea what it was. But I would guess the hospital.

"The hospital." Sam answered. Of course it was the hospital. How did he tell just by looking at the stupid map?

"Sharon. It's a map. You gotta read the thing. It's not gonna talk to you." Dean teased. "Now when I was there I saw a patient, an old woman."

"An old person huh?" Sam shook his head. "In a hospital? Phew." He pretended to panic. The little brat. I couldn't help but laugh. "Better call the coastguard."

Dean exhaled sharply. "Well listen smartass, she had an inverted cross hanging on her wall." I remembered the scene. It wasn't the old lady. It was someone else. Who it was, I forgot. But it wasn't the poor old lady.

Sam's smile fell. Yeah, this was getting serious.

One of the brothers got attacked by the Shtriga. I knew that. I was pretty sure it was the younger brother. I decided to stay back in the motel, keeping an eye out for the ugly Shtriga.

It's like you're never alone these days.

My heart rate spiked at the intrusion in my thoughts. Seriously, Mx. Angel?

You're still thinking about it.

Yeah. Damn right I was still thinking about it. Since no one would tell me why I was here, I might as well create my own purpose. And right now, my purpose was to keep everyone alive and happy.

Alive doesn't mean happy.

Why was the Angel even worried about me being alive?

I haven't found a vessel yet.

Of course. Maybe they should find some dead person and just possess them.

I need their permission.

Some naive Christian was sure to give them permission right? I scoffed. This conversation was stupid. The Angel could just go back to Heaven. Why were they even still in my head when they knew everything?

You really don't understand. Do you even value your life?

What life? I laughed to myself. I had no life. I had no real friends. I had no real family. Everyone I ever loved was in some other world. Dean said he loved me. But he could surely find someone else. After all one of those nurses from the hospital was sure to hop onto him the second they saw that ring off his finger.

I should be concerned, right?

Maybe? I had no idea. It wasn't like I was actively trying to kill myself. Anyways, I had a job to do. Mx. Angel could go chill or something. Whatever it was they did when they weren't talking to me in my head.

I am weak. I can't stay conscious for too long. That's why I haven't taken over your body completely.

Well, awesome. And?

Just stay alive until I have enough strength to possess someone else. Yeah?

Yeah. Sure. Like how long?

I don't know.

And the Angel was gone again.

I wrapped myself in Dean's leather jacket as I poked my head out of our hotel room. I was ninety percent sure the kids were asleep, as their laughter had died down a while ago. Hopefully, the Shtriga hadn't managed to hurt the kids yet. I kept the gun tight in my hands and crept closer to the door through which I'd seen the boys. I would have gotten in by picking the lock if the mom weren't keeping watch though. Flip. I wasn't making it inside.

"Can I help you with something?" the mom asked.

I tucked the gun in one of the jacket's inside pockets. "No ma'am. Just couldn't sleep. Thought I would take a walk." She scanned me up and down. I looked down at my bare feet on the floor and the nightgown that reached just past my knees. I hadn't even bothered combing my hair. It wasn't like I needed to dress up to kill a monster, but now I was questioning my dressing habits. "Sorry, I'm just exhausted. I was too lazy to actually put on clothes." I put on a smile. Hopefully she dropped it.

"Yeah. Yeah." she hummed. "That's- that's fine. Um." She looked warily outside. "Just be careful. Are any of the guys you came with with you?"

"No, I think they went outside to get drinks."

"Well I wouldn't recommend a young woman to walk outside alone at night."

That's why I'd grabbed Dean's jacket. To shake off the creeps. My glare and the gun in my hands could do the rest. Besides, I was here to kill a Shtriga. But I very well couldn't tell that to the lady. "You might be right." Well, I knew the kids lived. "I'll wait until they're back."

The lady nodded. "That sounds like a good idea." She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm gonna go check up on the boys." She gave me a small smile. "Have a good night."

I forced my lips into a smile. "Yeah. You too." She opened the door to head inside with her boys. "Don't forget about the windows."

She laughed. "Don't worry, Michael's got it. He promised me."

Day one million of parents pushing too much responsibility onto their oldest kid.

I ended back up in the motel room, updating my 'blog' instead. Good thing the boys would never find it. They knew the website name, but like hell were they actually gonna end up on the right fandom with the right username. Not to mention, I needed to talk to Dean. He'd been looking off the whole case if we left him alone for too long.

I flopped onto the bed and closed my eyes. But for goodness' sake, sleep never came. So I fixed the beds, folded the laundry we'd just thrown into the clean clothes bag, put away a random crocheting project – why was I even making a pink giraffe – and reloaded all the guns with bullets. I cleared out the table, plugged in my devices for once, and tossed all the takeout bags collecting in a corner of the room in an actual trash can. I wanted to cook. I wanted to bake a cake. I groaned. My 2:00 AM productivity really went haywire.

I must have dozed off at some point because when I finally registered what was going on, I had a gun in my hands aimed at the door.

"Just me, sweetheart." Dean said with his hands raised.

"Oh, sorry." I held back a yawn and dug at my eyes.

"Sam's taking the owner of the motel to the hospital. The younger kid, Asher, right? Yeah him, he got sick. His brother's gonna be with us for a while. Just until his mom gets back."

As my vision cleared, I finally noticed the young boy tucked behind Dean. "Oh shoot, did I scare him?"

"You'll traumatise him if you don't close your legs." Dean smirked.

Oh. Oh shoot. I snapped my knees together and covered them up with the fabric of my nightgown. "Are you okay?" I asked the young boy.

He nodded. But his eyes were distant. "I should have checked the latch."

Dean's hand rubbed the kid's shoulder. "Wasn't your fault buddy."

"Asher was my responsibility."

"Hey." I beckoned the kid closer. He hesitantly stepped forward. "You gotta believe in your brother." I pulled him into a hug. It was the only way I could comfort him.

Dean sat next to us, the bed dipping low from his weight. The kid, Michael I believed, buried his face in my shoulder. "It's not your fault."

"He's- he's- he's my brother–"

"And he's not your entire responsibility." I looked Dean dead in the eye. "You did your best. That's what matters." Dean's breath hitched.

Michael nodded his little head against my shoulder. "So you're gonna be strong for him too, alright?" Dean walked over to the mini fridge in the motel room and pulled out a beer for himself.

I didn't say anything. He probably couldn't do this feelings thing sober anyway. The kid was heavy. But he was still young. I rocked him slowly, until his breathing calmed down. By the time he had calmed down and cried himself to sleep, my arms were heavier than lead and I doubted I had enough strength to move the kid to lie down in one of the beds.

"I got him." Dean whispered and he picked up the boy from my arms and carefully placed him on our bed.

He would make a great dad.

"And how are you doing?" I asked when he sat down next to me, still nursing his beer.

He scoffed. "We're gonna get all sappy?"

"The Shtriga. Attacked Sammy several years ago."

Dean snapped to look in my direction. "You know this too?"

"I know about your childhood." I placed my hand on his.

He clenched the beer harder. "Then why do we have to talk about it."

"Because I need you to understand that your life isn't all about Sam."

He grit his teeth. His green eyes looked angry. But I wasn't backing down. Not from this. Not until he understood that he needed to live for himself, not just others. "You don't understand. It's my responsibility. As his brother. I'm the older one. I'm supposed to keep him safe." He nodded towards the boy sleeping soundly in our bed. "He feels the same."

"I know." It was hard to find the right words. "I'm an older sister too." How was I going to get this across to him? It had sounded a lot better and easier in my head. "Listen. I would fight a wendigo bare handed and get eaten by that thing before I let anything happen to my brother."

Dean looked away. "Then you get it."

"I do. But I also have a life of my own."

"Your brother's gone." He didn't mean it. The words stung. But I knew he didn't mean it.

"He is." Tears stung my eyes. "But when I was still with him. I had a life of my own."

Dean looked away. His hands were shaking. "Your mom didn't die in a fire. She wasn't killed by a demon. You didn't have to carry your baby brother out of a burning house. Your dad didn't leave you alone for weeks on end, telling you to shoot first and ask questions later. We had codes to even pick up the phone." His chest heaved.

"You're right." I squeezed his hand. "But I have my own baggage."

"What?" he scoffed. "Like spending every night drawing salt lines and holding onto a gun in case the monsters of the night came creeping in? You didn't live my life."

"My mom tried to kill herself."

Dean's eyes darted to my face. "What?"

"She banged her head on the wall in the hallway until it bled. I was in the living room with my cousin sister, and my brother. I was maybe seven years old max. My brother was four, my cousin sister was two."

"Shit."

"I had to turn up the TV volume and bring her back down from whatever it was that spooked her. So yeah, I didn't have to deal with a house fire or demons. But my life wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. As for my dad… he didn't live with us until I was eleven. For eight whole years, for my whole childhood I learned about him through rare phone calls on my birthdays and the screaming my mom did at him at midnight. I put my brother to sleep because my mom was too busy being miserable. I stayed awake all night when my mom went out to get groceries and handle our finances cause she didn't want to leave us alone during the day. I kept my brother with me, pretending like life was fine when my mom and dad threw pots and pans at each other in the kitchen and my dad scratched himself till he bled. When my brother was bullied, it was me who fought off the bullies. I ditched my own friends because they were mean to him. I rebooked missed flight tickets when we came to America cause my mom wasn't fluent in English. I was eleven, Dean, replanning a trans continental trip cause my parents were too busy fighting to decide on a plausible flight schedule. So don't you dare give me that crap where you talk about how much more miserable your life was than mine. I kept my family together too. I had to take care of my brother too. We both have our own shit to deal with. So don't make it seem like one of us had a worse life."

Dean clenched his jaw. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise." I cupped his cheeks in my hands. "I just want you to understand. Sam's life isn't everything. Yes, you should love him. Yes, you should look out for him. But don't let it be everything. Have your own hobbies. Hell you can make hating on my yarn getting stuck in your socks a hobby. I'll take it. I'm fine with you jerking off to my underwear if it means you'll stop obsessing over Sam."

"Is that an offer?" he cracked a smile.

I shoved his shoulder with a smile of my own. "Shut up." I shook my head. "But you get the idea. Right?"

"Right." He looked down.

"If you didn't have this as a job, then what would you do?"

He didn't miss a beat. "Mechanic."

"You say that cause John was a mechanic. What would you actually want to do? Think."

"Don't wanna." He forced his head away even in my grip. "Not when there's monsters out in the world."

I forced his face back to look at me. "Let's say there are no monsters. We killed them all. By some miracle, we killed everything evil in this world. What would you do?"

He opened his mouth. "Fight other evils."

"Like?"

"Disasters."

Now we were getting somewhere.

"Fires." He brought his forehead down to mine. "Firefighter." His left cheek crinkled into a lopsided smile again. "I would have said lifeguard for the women in bikinis, but… Lifeguards wear shorts, I don't wanna wear shorts."

I tilted my head so our lips met. "Sounds just like you."

I looked up from the laptop as Dean's phone rang. "Hey, how's the kid?" he whispered, doing his best to not wake up the sleeping kid in our room. "Yeah, we're still at the motel… Sharon's doing some research on the Shtriga."

Dean passed me the phone from across the table.

I tucked it between my shoulder and ear. "Yeah, Sammy. Uh, here's what I found. Started with Fort Douglas cause that's the last location we knew. I traced back the weird illnesses, and it hit Ogdenville, then North Haverbrook and Brockway. Do not ask me where they are. I got no clue." Dean muttered something about immigrants and American geography. I kicked his foot under the table in retaliation. "Every ten to fifteen years, it hits some place. And wherever it goes, dozens of kids get pneumonia-like symptoms, slip into a coma, and… yeah." I could see Dean's expression go unreadable. One of those kids could have been Sammy. And no doubt Dean felt guilty.

"How far back does this thing actually go?" He asked instead. His voice was deadly steady.

"Earliest mentions was in the 1890s… Black River Falls." I turned the laptop so Dean could read the article. "Honestly I don't–"

"One of the doctors is Heidecker." Dean said, his eyes still trained on the screen. "The picture is from 1893." His green eyes met mine. It had been the doctor all along. He held out his hand for the phone. "Come back Sammy."

The staff the owner had called was finally here, and she took Michael back into his room. Sam had arrived a minute later, going off into a rant.

"We should have thought of this before. A Doctor's a perfect disguise. You're trusted, you can control the whole thing." Sam ranted.

"That son of a bitch." Dean clenched his fist. "I should have killed that thing." He was referring to when he and Sam were kids.

"And draw on him in a hospital?"

"Yeah well, first of all, I wouldn't have opened fire in a pediatrics ward."

"Good call." Sam said dryly.

"Second, it wouldn't have done any good. The bastard's bullet proof unless he's chowing down on something. And third, I wasn't even there, which is probably a good thing cause I probably would have burned a clip in him on principle alone."

"You're getting wise in your old age Dean."

"If he's old then I'm a fossil." I chimed.

"A cute fossil." Dean brushed his knuckles over my cheek. "But now I know how we're going to get it."

"What do you mean?"

"Shtriga, works through siblings right?"

"Right."

"Well last night…"

"It went after Asher."

"So I'm thinking tonight it's probably gonna come after Michael." Dean said slowly.

"We use the kid as bait." I reiterated. "It's the best shot we have."

Sam looked at me with wide eyes. "Are you nuts?" He looked back at his brother. "No! Forget it. That's out of the question."

"It's not out of the question, Sam, it's the only way. If this thing disappears it could be years before we get another chance."

"Michael's a kid. And I'm not going to dangle him in front of that thing like a worm on a hook."

"Dad did not send me here to walk away."

It hit me then. Dean was seeing this as a punishment for something that happened years ago. And I wondered if that was what John really meant. Maybe John trusted Dean and Sam enough to take down this thing themselves before it could rip apart more families. John wasn't the kind of person to just punish his kid for some mistake that happened so many years ago.

"Send you here? He didn't send you here, he sent us."

"This isn't about you Sam. I'm the one who screwed up, all right. It's my fault. There's no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me."

"What are you saying Dean, how is it your fault?"

"Cause it's not." I stepped in between the two brothers. "It's not your fault, Dean."

"You don't know that." Dean sat down on the bed. His hands were shaking.

Sam and I glanced at each other worriedly. How were we supposed to tell him? I tapped Sam on the shoulder and pushed him closer to Dean. I was going to send John a text. He needed to talk this out with Dean. he needed to know that he wasn't just a soldier. Not some tool in his Dad's great revenge plan.

"Dean. You've been hiding something from the get go. Since when does Dad bail on a hunt? Since when does he let something get away? Now talk to me man. Tell me what's going on."

As Dean told his brother the story from several years ago, I let my fingers fly across the keyboard. The stupid thing was slow, it took too long to type. I wanted modern technology back. No wonder old people called each other, the text took too long. But John was never going to pick up the phone. Maybe he would read the text, send back an answer. Even if it was a simple 'it wasn't your fault, Dean', I would take it. I hit send and sat down on the moldy floor. Sam had sat down next to his brother and was bringing him back down from whatever panic he had gone into. I leaned my head back against the worn out wallpaper. I needed to fix this. This stupid broken family of theirs. It was the least I could do.

"You're crazy! Just go away or I'm calling the cops." Michael shrieked from behind the desk.

Well, the plan wasn't exactly going according to plan. But the kid was good. He had guts. He had a brain. Dean flailed as he tried to pry the phone away from the kid's hand."Hang on a second. Just listen to me. You have to believe me ok? This thing came through the window and it attacked your brother. I've seen it. I know what it looks like. Cause it attacked my brother once too."

Michael slowly put the phone back down. "This thing… is it… like… it has this long… black robe?"

"You saw it last night didn't you?"

"I thought I was having a nightmare."

"I'd give anything not to tell you this but sometimes nightmares are real."

"So why are you telling me?" Michael glanced at the three of us warily.

"Because we need your help."

"My help?" Michael's eyes grew wide.

"We can kill it. But we need your help." I stepped in. maybe a smaller weaker looking woman would freak out the kid a little less. "That thing hurt Asher. And it's coming after you next. You know how it goes. One sibling gets sick, then so does the other sibling. If you help us, we can kill it. And the thing will never hurt anyone again. And Asher will get better."

Michael fearfully swallowed. His small head gave a weak nod. That was all we needed.

"The Shtriga clearly doesn't care if someone else is in the room. It went after Asher even though Michael was right next to him." I told the men. "I should stay with him."

"What if it comes after you?" Dean looked me up and down. "You're well endowed, but you do look young."

"Well then awesome, it'll feed on me and not the kid, right?" I sighed. "I can shoot the thing. You guys can keep watch. Come in guns blazing if anything goes wrong."

"This is a better idea than leaving Michael alone in the room." Sam agreed with me.

"I'm not risking two people." Dean retorted.

"You would rather leave a poor kid alone?" I nodded towards Asher who looked absolutely terrified in his pajamas. "Just leave me here. I'll be fine."

"But–"

"Dean." I placed my hand on his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

Dean ran a hand down his face before finally giving up. "Fine."

"I'll go make sure the camera is working." Sam says, and he left me, Dean, and Michael in the room.

Dean fiddled around with the camera while I tried to comfort a shaken Michael. "Let's walk through the plan one more time. You wanna tell me what's gonna happen?"

Michael nodded. "The monster comes in through the window. I just stay under the covers. And you'll shoot it."

"Yep."

"What if you shoot me?"

"Not gonna happen. I'm the best shot amongst us. And let me tell you, Sam and Dean can shoot flying targets."

"And you're better than them?" Michael sounded skeptical.

"Oh yeah." Dean chimed. "She's a damn good shot."

"I won't even fire in your direction, alright? I'll probably hug you to make sure you don't get hit by a bullet. That fine?"

Michael nodded.

"Good." Dean stopped fiddling with the camera and knelt down in front of me and Michael. "Have you ever heard a gunshot before?"

"Like in the movies?"

"It's gonna be a lot louder than in the movies." Dean's hand squeezed Michael's knee. "So I want you to stay under the bed, cover your ears, do not come out until we say so. Understand?"

Michael looked down at his feet for a long moment.

"Michael, you sure you wanna do this?" I asked the kid.

"You don't have to, it's ok, I won't be mad." Dean said gently.

"No, I'm ok. Just don't shoot me." He clambered onto the bed and pulled the covers over his eyes.

I looked back at Dean who couldn't take his eyes off of Michael. He would make a damn good dad. This scene felt domestic. Dean comforting our kid after a nightmare, and me getting into bed with a scared kid. It was all a dream, a naive longing because this could never happen. It never would. But God, if I didn't want it.

"You got this?" Dean's voice brought me back.

"Yeah." I brushed my hand over the gun strapped to my thigh under my gown. "I got this."

I could hear the window creaking open. Michael was just an inch away from me, his hand gripping mine tightly. My heart rate increased, and sweat began to coat my skin. I could feel the creature loom over Michael. But not yet. It hadn't started feeding yet. I cracked an eye open ever so slightly, and the Shtriga opened its mouth. Now.

I dove over Michael and shot at the creature. It howled and stumbled back. Michael was too stunned to even cry out. Dean and Sam came rushing in, guns tight in their hands. They too unloaded a shot each into the creature.

I pushed the kid behind the bed, away from the Shtriga, that lay limp on the ground now.

"Did we get it?" Sam asked. He sounded breathless. I held the kid tighter.

Dean walked over to check. "I think so." Just then, the Shtriga clenched Dean's throat and threw him against a wall.

"No!" I raised my gun again. But I didn't have a clear line.

"Dean!" Sam cried. He shot at the thing. Michael let out a wail of fear and ducked tighter against my chest. The Shtriga snarled and pushed Sam down. It opened its mouth and started sucking. I could see Sam getting paler and paler.

"No, Sammy!" Dean managed to shoot the Shtriga between the eyes. The second the Shtriga collapsed again, Dean was on his knees next to Sam. "Sam, Sam!"

"Michael, stay here." I patted his shoulder. "Close your eyes, close your ears." I climbed over the bed and took aim. Dean was still shaking Sam, repeating his name over and over again. I emptied a whole clip into the creature, making sure it was dead, dead. White wisps began to leave the Shtriga, and the mist dissipated into the air.

"Dean?" whispered a weak voice.

Sam. "Sam!" Dean gripped his brother tighter. "You okay little brother?"

Sam pushed himself up shakily. "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay."

I crawled over the bed to get back to Michael and gently peeled his hands away from his ears. "Hey, we got it." He looked up at me with teary eyes. "It's dead. It can't hurt anyone or anything anymore."

"Asher…?"

"We'll find out in the morning." I pulled the kid against my shoulder. Hopefully my heart had calmed down enough that the kid wouldn't realise. "You did good, Michael. You did amazing."

Joanna came back in the morning, her hair all messed up and her face all puffy and red, but the corners of her lips were turned upwards. Asher must be doing fine.

"How's Asher?" I asked. Michael had clung onto my jacket the second I'd left the motel entrance with my keys in my hands. But the second he spotted his mother, he left my side and ran up to her.

"Ash?" he asked immediately.

"Good news. He's going to be fine." Joanna pulled her son into a hug.

"Really?" Michael grinned.

"Yeah, really. No one can explain it, it's a miracle. They're going to keep him in overnight for observation and then he's coming home."

"That's great." Dean smiled.

"How are all the other kids doing?" Sam asked.

"Good. Real good. A bunch of them should be checking out in a few days. Dr Travis says the ward's going to be like a ghost town."

Sam decided to continue pressing. "Dr Travis? What about Dr Heidecker?"

"Oh he wasn't in today. Must have been sick or something."

"Yeah. Must have." Dean grinned.

Heidecker was currently buried in the parking lot by the playground.

"So, did anything happen while I was gone?" Joanna asked Michael.

Michael shook his head. "Same old stuff."

"Ok. You can go see Ash."

Michael's eyes lit up. "Now?"

"Only if you want to." She didn't have to tell him twice. He was already halfway to their car. "I'd better get going before he hot wires the car and drives himself." She laughed. "Bye guys."

The three of us watched the mother and son duo drive off. Right, I had something to show Dean. "Dean." I passed him my phone. "Look."

It was a text from John. The same number that had been sending us coordinates. Dean read the text. "Well shit." He laughed. "I had it all wrong."

"Had what wrong?" Sam asked.

"Nothing." Dean looked up with a smile as he passed me the phone back. "Everything's perfect."

Sam looked curiously between me and Dean. "Did you show him your nudes?"

I snorted. "Like I'll ever take any."

Dean put on a serious face. "You should show me some."

"I should show you what the back of my hand looks like. Now go and get Baby started."

He grinned and walked off to the Impala.

"Seriously, what is it?" Sam asked me again.

I showed him the text from John. Sam looked back at his brother once he read it. "Well shit indeed. He could have said that years ago."

"No wonder he's happy."

I pulled out my iPhone and snapped a quick picture of the text written in pure emotionally constipated John Winchester trying his best at communication based on a young 2020s girl's text rants fashion.

That's not why, Dean. I thought you might want revenge. Sorry ):

A/N: Ok, alright. So ik a lot of people hate John Winchester. But I genuinely feel for the man. If he'd ever had any real guidance in his life, I believe he would have been a phenomenal dad. I mean he even had college funds for both his sons until Azazel used the ceiling as the pan to cook Mary in. John tried his best based on the trashy cards the world dealt him. Not to mention he was traumatised by war, had difficulty getting a job, then his wife died, and he was left with two sons in an era where men weren't exactly expected to raise their kids and mental health wasn't even taken seriously. Poor guy had to be constantly on the run cause he knew that Azazel would come after Sam and unfortunately, it's a thing where parents always put too much pressure on their eldest kids cause compared to their youngest the oldest is worlds mature, and older siblings tend to think it genuinely is their duty to keep their younger sibling safe and take on too much responsibility just by themselves. I relate to Dean in so many ways, even though I can confidently say my mom and dad were never abusive towards us. If you ever ask my parents, then they'll go "I used to think my daughter was so grown up when she was 10, now I see my son as a 10 year old and I wonder how I expected her to be so responsible", a genuine quote from my mom. So like yeah, don't kill me pls. I genuinely believe John was a good guy, just needed some guidance in raising his kids which he never got.