"I swear this kid only orders these disgusting concoctions to make me gag," Dean said when he looked at a half-eaten slice of cheesecakeTop of Form topped with jalapeño Cheetos that was sitting in front of Abby. He circled an obituary in the local newspaper.

"Be happy she's not topping it with the pickles she stole from your burger," Sam replied after the waitress had finished flirting with Dean.

Dean leaned back in his seat, hand covering the obituary, and the marker he used to circle it between his fingers. He placed his hand over his mouth, dragged it down to his chin, rubbing it. He looked down at Abby who sat across from him. She expertly avoided his stare.

"You touched my food?" he said more than asked. He had rules about his food now that he was an adult and no longer had to share everything. "You let her touch my food? Nobody touches my plate until I'm done eating."

"I didn't let her do anything, Dean. They were on your plate when I went to use the restroom. A plate that was sitting right next to you the entire time we've been here… How long was the waitress here before I asked for the check?" Sam asked looking at their sister's dessert plate, a grin splayed over his face. There was something else on her plate that didn't come with the order. He snorted. "She stole your bacon, too."

"The things I let this kid get away with!" Dean sighed. He reached over to her plate and removed the slice of crisped meat. He took a bite before continuing. Food still in his mouth. "Actually, it's the things you let her get away with."

"How does this fall on me?"

"You accepted responsibility of her for a month. Everything she does falls on you until the bet is over. You shouldn't even be smiling after the stunt she pulled last night," Dean replied, happy he didn't have to be the responsible one for a change. Not that there was much evidence to prove he was such a person himself.

Sam raised his hand to let the waitress know they wanted the check. When she arrived at the table, she set it down in front of him and Dean stared as she walked away. He dropped his head, then looked at their brother.

"You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while," he continued, pointing to Wendy, their waitress. He was admiring her attire. "That's fun." Dean ignored the classic expression he had affectionately, and openly referred to as Sam's bitch face. He passed the newspaper over to Sam and continued speaking. "Here, take a look at this, I think I got one. Lake Manitoc, Wisconsin.

Abby's ears perked up at the state's name. She knew there was something special about this state. Only she didn't know why that was. Yet.

"Last week Sophie Carlton, eighteen, walks into the lake, doesn't walk out. Authorities dragged the water; nothing. Sophie Carlton is the third Lake Manitoc drowning this year. None of the other bodies were found either. They had a funeral two days ago."

"A funeral?"

"DD? What's a fun-"

"Yeah, it's weird, they buried an empty coffin. For, uh, closure or whatever."

"DDeeee!" She slid down the seat to reach his leg with her foot, shoving her brother's knee… not kicking.

Aside from a glare, she was ignored. They seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. Ignoring her. Abbey figured Dean was still upset with her after was might have been an accidental alarm clock.

"Closure? What closure? People don't just disappear, Dean. Other people just stop looking for them."

"Be very careful how you continue that train of thought," Dean nearly demanded as he gave a subtle glance toward the little girl who took another bite of her cheesecake.

"What do you want me to say, Dean? That the trail for Dad isn't getting colder by the day? Because it is. We can't protect her from this forever."

"Did Daddy go home," Abby asked with more than a hint of sadness in her voice.

"I know you're upset right now, Sammy. I do. But maybe the next time this topic comes up we use your college words. Horton's got good ears."

Abby roughly crossed her arms over her body, scowling at Dean who had just compared her to an elephant.

"If I'm Horton, then you're the grinch and this is Christmas," she mumbled.

"Pretty sure Horton never took anything from someone's plate. That makes you the grinch who stole my food," Dean retorted.

Home had two different meanings to this family. Maybe three. There was the one Dean knew before their lives changed. Then there was the one Sam knew, and even he knew what living in a house and staying in one place for more than a month was like.

"Dad would never go back there," Dean replied, answering her question without actually telling her where home had once been for the brothers. His tone suggested she knew better than to ask such a question.

Then there were the versions of home that Abby knew. Motel rooms and the Impala. The occasional empty or foreclosed house.

"So, what are we supposed to do, Sammy?"

"I don't know. Something. Anything." Sam seemed to be getting desperate. But he was more pissed off than anything. They'd been searching for weeks only to find less and less with each stop.

"You know what? I'm sick of this attitude. You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?"

"I know you do, it's just-"

"I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies. We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there… And that one is not allowed to have bubble bath anymore unless one of us measures it for her."

Sam's face paled at the memory.

Three A.M. Both brothers were dead to the world after a long day on the road. Blankets covered their bodies because their current location held nights even colder than the desert.

Something didn't feel right against his skin. It felt like a hot tub without the water or the heat.

He'd scrunched his nose at the sensation. There was something else. It was tropical. Coconut for sure. Maybe some pineapple. But why were those scents assaulting his nasal passages.

One more pop, felt by hairs in his nose. It was the last straw before he smacked himself in the face with his own hand.

Water running. Dean was just as tired as he was, but maybe he wanted a shower before going to bed. Or he was using the bathroom for another reason. Who knew. He just wasn't ready to open his eyes yet.

There was a loud snore. It was how Dean slept when he was that exhausted. Actually, the only time to be worried was if his brother was quiet. It was like living with a toddler in an adult's body.

So… Dean was snoring. Water was running. And there was that weird tropical scent that screamed Abby. Dean would rather smell like leather or something else masculine, like beer or whiskey. Plus, if Abby really had done something to their brother's shower supplies, they would have heard him yelling her name and not caring that it was the middle of the night.

His eyes opened to a yellowish white cloud. That cloud popping over every inch of his exposed skin: arms and face. It was all he could see with what little amount of light made its way through.

The last time he remembered using something of the same consistency, he was at least a few years younger than Abby.

Abby!

This was the kind of thing that would wake her up if she was asleep. Her whole life, she never slept through an entire night, especially after his return. And the last time they didn't have eyes on her at least once during the night, they found her blasting music from, and dancing on the hood of Dean's car.

Between banging his shins on low surfaces or Abby's bed, and stubbing his bare toes on other things, he finally found his way to the bathroom where the source of the noise seemed to be coming.

The door was already open, explaining how he was able to see as much as he was and why there was a yellow hue. But so far, there was no explanation for what appeared to be an entire bottle of bubbles filling their room.

Sam let a sigh escape with his comment. "That's a cleaning deposit I'd rather not pay again." He rolled his eyes as the waitress walked by again, distracting Dean. "All right, Lake Manitoc. Hey!" He snapped his fingers because nothing else was bringing Dean back. "How far?"

There was nothing. Just the open road with the occasional scenic town sites. Abby lay on her back in the back seat, holding the empty pet carrier above her head. Talking to the imaginary chameleon she'd named Bond. James Bond.

Clotheslines with white sheets, someone fishing off a bridge, and a road that read "Welcome to Lake Manitoc, WI" all went by without her noticing. She had been bored ever since breakfast and she was mad at her brothers. Sam for his reaction to her Game Planning their motel room, and Dean for calling her both an elephant and the Grinch in the same sentence. They didn't want to hear from her, and she didn't want to talk to them.

"No, Sam. I had her throw away the ones that used to be in here for a reason."

"I'm not suggesting we get her an animal, or a hundred-piece Lego set, Dean. What kind of damage could she possibly do with a single toy that can't fit in the air vents or ruin my laptop and your cassettes? At least she's not carving her initials in the back like we did."

"Dad won't even let her handle a butter knife. You really think he'd let me live if she even held one of my blades?"

"No, I guess not. But I'm getting her something."

"Like what?!"

"I don't know. A life-sized doll maybe? There are some as tall as she is."

Her ears tuned in once the doll was mentioned. She'd even changed her focal point enough to imply she was still looking at the pet carrier. When did they change into suits? They weren't wearing those at breakfast.

She felt the car come to a stop. Dean set it in park before removing the key from the ignition.

"Absolutely not. Nothing life-sized, Sammy. Do you have any idea how weird it is to look in that mirror and see a face that doesn't belong in the car?" A clatter of heavy plastic smashing into bone made him look behind them. The empty cage was on the floor, and Abby's hands covered her face. All the while screams and cries of pain were emanating from her open mouth and blood was coming out of her nose. "Happy?" he asked Sam.

"Just help me get her cleaned up. Put the carrier in the trunk if you're not going to get rid of it…"

"Noooooo…" she whined, but it hurt her nose. "Owwwwwwwww!"

"Are you happy?" Sam asked Dean. "She was fine until you brought up Constance Welch. That's when the carrier fell on her face." He climbed out of the passenger seat and closed the door behind him. Once Abby's door was open, he sat down beside her, keeping the door open since the child lock was still on. "We still have those napkins from our last stop?"

Dean handed them back to him, along with a bottle of water. "This isn't going to fix a broken nose, Sammy."

"It's not broken, Dean." Sam gently placed the napkin under Abby's nose to absorb the blood. Only when he pulled it away to see the damage, her blood wasn't red. It was clear, shimmering like crystals under the natural light. Their sister had bled before… many times, in fact. He knew that when blood left the body, it oxidized because of the iron, essentially going from a clear yellow, to an opaque red.

The child kept trying to push his hand away, crying for their father. It didn't matter that she was no match for him. She was going to fight him off.

"Remind me to clip her nails when we find a motel," Sam said, wincing as Abby's fingers dug into his wrists. "Dad's not here, Abs. You're stuck with us until we find him. Don't you dare bite me!"

Abby froze. Her open mouth centimeters away from biting her brother's hand.

"Dean? Where's that list you started to make? The one with things to ask Dad about Abs?"

Dean looked out the window toward the only house visible in these woods. Someone was watching them through a house window.

"Take care of that later. We got company."

"Abigail Olivia!" Dean heard from behind him. His eyes on someone who appeared to be the victim's brother if her obituary picture was anything to go by.

"What'd she do now?"

"She bit me."

Sam glared down at Abby who had crossed her arms in a huff. Her nose had stopped bleeding minutes ago but there was still blood crusted on the upper lip.