Dad and I were working a case together.
I walked into the motel room, closing the door behind me, looking toward him asleep on the bed. "Hey, Dad. Up and at 'em. We got work to do." Dad didn't answer or move. "Dad?" I walked toward him, shaking his shoulder lightly. "Wake up." I shook him more prominently. "Wake up. Do you hear me? Wake up. Dad, wake up!" I turned around to the door, starting to panic. "Help! I need some help in here!"
~~
I got Dad to the hospital, calling Sam and Dean, standing with a doctor at Dad's bedside. "So, what's the diagnosis?"
"We've texted everything we can think to test," the doctor told me. "He seems perfectly healthy."
"Except that he's comatose," I told him.
"Miss, Snyderson, you're his daughter," the doctor told me. "Anything we should know? Any illnesses?"
"No, he—he never gets sick," I told him. "I mean, he doesn't even catch a cold. Doctor, is there anything you can do?"
"Look, I'm sorry, but we don't know what's causing it... so we don't know how to treat it," the doctor told me. "He just... went to sleep, and didn't wake up."
I looked at Dad numbly.
~~
I walked into the motel room, leading Sam and Dean inside with me.
"So, what are you guys doing in Pittsburgh?" Sam asked.
"Taking an extremely lame vacation," I told them sarcastically, closing the door behind us, walking toward them.
"Ha, smartass," Dean told me. "I think he means, what kind of job are you working?"
I walked toward the closet, turning on the light. "Take a look for yourself."
I pushed the clothes in the closet aside, revealing a map on the wall behind them, with all sorts of news clippings and pictures of roots, mushrooms, seeds, post-its with addresses and numbers, a piece of paper about a plant, and a map where "Pittsburgh" was written in big letters, underlined.
Sam and Dean walked closer.
Dean chuckled. "You and good old Bobby, always covering up your tracks."
"You make heads or tails of any of this?" Sam asked.
I took one of the papers about a plant, reading the title of it. "'Silene capensis, which—"
"Of course means absolutely nothing to me," Dean told us.
I rolled my eyes, handing them different papers to help get them caught up. "Here. Obit." I took a newspaper clipping, reading from it. "'Dr. Walter Gregg, 64, university neurologist'."
"How'd he bite it?" Dean asked.
"Actually, they don't know," I told them. "They say he just went to sleep and didn't wake up." I handed the paper to Dean. "That sound familiar to you? All right, um... Dad and I were looking into the doc's death. You know, hunting something—"
Dean looked up. "That started hunting you guys."
I nodded. "Yeah. But nothing's happened to me so far. All right, Dean, why don't you go check out the doctor yourself? I'll try to get Sam caught up on all of this."
"All right, if it means that I can skip the research, I'm all for it," Dean told us, handing the paper to me, walking out, leaving.
I looked at Sam, sighing.
"You okay?" Sam asked.
"I'm just trying to save my dad," I told him. "How about you?"
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
"Any leads on trying to save Dean?" I asked.
Sam sighed, shaking his head. "No. None. He, uh... When he made the deal, the conditions were that if we try to find a way out of it, then I die instead of Dean."
I raised my eyebrows. "What?"
"Yeah," Sam answered. "So, if I try to save him, and it breeches the deal, then I die, and Dean stays alive."
"And he still made the deal, and you are still trying to save him even if you end up dying yourself," I told him. "Wow. You two... I don't even know where to begin."
I turned to the closet.
~~
I sat at Dad's beside in the hospital, looking at him thoughtfully, hearing footsteps come in, turning to see Sam and Dean walking in.
We looked at each other for a moment.
They walked further into the room.
"How is he?" Sam asked.
I rubbed my hand over my chin, turning back to Dad, looking at the files in my other hand. "No change."
"What you got?" Dean asked.
I stood, walking toward them at the foot of the bed, taking a picture of a plant from the folder. "This plant, Silene Capensis, is also known as African Dream Root. It's been used by shaman and medicine men for centuries."
"Let me guess," Dean told me. "They dose up, bust out the didjeridus, start kicking around the hackey."
"Not quite," I told them. "If you believe the legends, it's used for dreamwalking. I mean, entering another person's dreams, poking around in their heads."
"I take it we believe the legends," Dean told me.
"When don't we?" I replied. "But dreamwalking is just the tip of the iceberg."
Sam picked up a paper from the folder that contained info on the root and a drawing of it. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, this Dream Root is some serious mojo," I answered. "You take enough of it, with practice, you can become a regular Freddy Krueger. You can control anything. You could turn bad dreams good, you could turn good dreams bad."
"And killing people in their sleep?" Sam asked.
I nodded. "For example."
Sam sighed. "So, let's say, uh, let's say this doc was testing this stuff on his patients, Tim Leary-style."
"Somebody gets pissed at him, decides to give him a little dream visit, he goes nighty-night," Dean told us.
"But what about Bobby?" Sam asked. He looked at Dad. "I mean, if the killer came after him..." He looked at me. "Why didn't they come after you?"
I looked at Dad, shaking my head, crossing my arms over my chest. "We split up to take different ends of the job, but other than that... I don't know."
~~
We walked out into the hallway.
"So how do we find our homicidal sandman?" Dean asked.
"Could be anyone who knew the doctor, had access to his dream shrooms," I told them.
"Maybe one of his test subjects or something?" Sam suggested.
"Possible," I answered. "But his research was pretty sketchy. I mean... I don't know how many subjects he had, or who all of them were."
I scoffed, shaking my head.
Dean looked at me. "What?"
I sighed. "In any other case, I'd be asking Dad for help right now." I looked at them in realization. "And that's how we do it."
"Do what?" Sam asked.
"We have to wake him up," I told them. "We're the only ones who can."
"And how exactly do you suggest we do that, Nancy Drew?" Dean asked.
"Dream Root," I answered.
"What?" Sam asked.
"You heard me," I told them.
"You wanna go dreamwalking inside Bobby's head?" Sam asked.
"Yeah," I answered. "We have to get through to him somehow."
"We have no idea what's crawling around in there, Ness," Sam told me.
"Well, how bad could it be?" Dean asked.
"Bad," I answered. "But, dudes, this is my dad."
Sam considered this. "Yeah, you're right."
Dean scoffed. "One problem, though. We're fresh out of African Dream Root, so unless you know who can score some..."
I looked at them in realization, my face falling. "Crap."
"What?" Sam asked.
"Bela," I answered.
"Bela?" Sam repeated. He realized I was right, his face falling. "Crap."
Dean scoffed. "You're actually suggesting we ask her a favor?"
"I'm feeling dirty just thinking about it, but, yeah," I answered, walking down the hall.
Sam and Dean exchanged a look, sighing, following me.
~~
Back at the motel, Sam was sitting at the desk, sleeping, leaning his head on his arm, drool covering his hand, smiling.
Dean was sitting in a chair, looking toward Sam.
I sat on the bed, leaning back against the wall, reading through a stack of papers.
Sam realized whatever he had been dreaming was just a dream, his smile fading, sitting up, wiping his face with the back of his hand, the same hand he had drooled on.
Dean chuckled.
Sam wiped his face with his other arm.
"Dude, you were out," Dean told him. "And making some serious happy noises."
Sam looked very uncomfortable, not looking at either of us.
"Who were you dreaming about?" I asked.
"What?" Sam asked. "No one. Nothing."
"Come on, you can tell us," Dean told him. "Angelina Jolie?"
"No," Sam answered.
"Brad Pitt?" Dean asked.
Sam turned around, almost looking at us. "No. No! Dude, it doesn't matter."
"Whatever," I told him.
"Whatever," Sam replied.
"I called Bela," I told them.
Sam went still at this, a small smile quickly flashing by. He tried to cover it with awkwardness, embarrassed. "Bela? Yeah? She—What'd she... You know, say? She... gonna... help us?"
"Shockingly, no, which puts us back to square one," I told them. "I've been trying to decipher the doctor's notes. Unfortunately, he has worse handwriting than my dad does." I looked from Sam to Dean in either of their chairs, their backs turned to me. "You guys gonna come help me with this stuff?"
Dean just looked at me with a slight tilt of his head, smiling.
I couldn't help a small smile, looking at the doctor's notes.
Sam looked around, down at his lap, shifting uncomfortably, looking up, still keeping his back to us. "Yeah, yeah. I'll help, since Dean clearly doesn't want to. Just give me a sec."
Sam stretched.
There was a knock on the door.
We all looked at the door.
I placed the papers aside, standing, walking toward the door, drawing my gun silently, placing it against the door, opening it just a few inches to see who was outside. I rolled my eyes in annoyed recognition, opening the door, backing away. "Bela. As I live and breathe."
Sam swallowed visibly.
Bela walked in.
Sam reacted to her right away, trying to cover up his 'situation'.
"You called me," Bela told me. "Remember, Vanessa?"
"I remember you turning me down," I told her, closing the door behind her. "And it's Ness."
"Well, I'm just full of surprises, and I don't care," Bela told me, turning to face Sam and Dean.
Dean stood, sighing in annoyance.
Sam raised a hand, waving awkwardly over his shoulder, staying half-turned away from us with his other in his lap, not meeting Bela's eyes. "Hey, Bela. What's going on?"
I looked between them.
Bela walked further into the room. "I brought you your African Dream Root." She handed a jar to me. "Nasty stuff, and not easy to come by."
Bela put her bag on the TV, starting to open her coat with her back to Sam.
Sam sat up alertly, breathing in anticipation.
"Why the sudden change of heart?" I asked.
"What?" Bela asked. "I can't do you a little favor every now and again?"
Bela pulled her jacket off.
Sam tensed up.
"No," I answered. "You can't." Sam looked at Bela's regular long-sleeved blue shirt, visibly relaxing a bit more. "Come on, I wanna know what the strings are before you attach them."
"You said this was for your father, right?" Bela asked. I nodded. "Well, I'm doing it for him, not you."
"My dad?" I asked. "Why?"
Bela shrugged. "He saved my life once. In Flagstaff."
Dean looked toward Sam.
Sam shrugged.
"Flagstaff?" I repeated. "Why don't I know anything about this?"
"Because, as he informed me, you were on another job in Boston," Bela answered. "Something about werewolves and witches." I raised my eyebrows, remembering. I screwed up and your daddy saved me, okay? You satisfied?"
I shrugged. "Maybe."
I took the jar from Bela.
Bela looked from me to Sam and Dean. "So when do we go on this little magical mystery tour?"
"Oh, you're not going anywhere," I told her. "I don't trust you enough to let you in my car, much less my father's head. No offense."
Sam looked a bit disappointed.
"None taken," Bela told me. "We did have quite the falling out in Miami, didn't we?"
"Oh, honey, I'm only over that if you are," I told her.
"Not quite," Bela told me.
"Good, 'cause I'm not either," I told her.
Bela gave me a sarcastic smile.
I walked toward the closet, turning on the light, opening the safe, revealing the Colt inside, putting the jar of Dream Root inside.
Sam, Dean and Bela watched.
Sam looked at Bela.
I closed the safe, locking it, walking toward them.
Bela looked annoyed. "It's 2:00 AM. Where am I supposed to go?"
"Get a room," Dean told her. "Ah, they got the Magic Fingers, a little Casa Erotica on pay-per-view. You'll love it."
Bela shook her head indignantly. "You..."
Bela grabbed her jacket, turning toward the door.
Sam stood. "Nice to see—seeing you..." Bela walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. "Bela."
Dean smiled at the reaction from Bela, taking that in, turning to Sam in confusion.
~~
I walked over to the beds with three glasses of the liquid containing the Dream Root.
Sam and Dean were sitting on the beds, waiting.
I handed two glasses to them, sitting down in a chair across from them.
"Uh, should we dim the lights and sync up 'Wizard of Oz' to 'Dark Side of the Moon'?" Dean asked.
Sam looked at Dean, smiling a small smile. "Why?"
Dean looked at Sam in disappointment. "What did you do during college?"
Sam looked confused.
Dean went to drink the liquid.
"Wait, wait, wait," I told them. "Whew. Can't forget this." They put their glasses down, looking at me. I pulled out a little envelope from my pocket, pulling a few strands of hair out, handing two to Sam and Dean, keeping one for me. "Here."
"What the hell is that?" Dean asked.
"My dad's hair," I answered.
"We have to drink Bobby's hair?" Sam asked.
"That's how you control whose dream you're entering," I explained. "You gotta... drink some part of their, uh... Some part of their body."
"Well, guess the hair of the dog is better than other parts of the body," Dean told us. We put the hair into the drinks, getting ready to drink the very disgusting drink, raising our glasses. "Bottoms up."
"Yeah," Sam told us.
We clinked our glasses, drinking it all, trying to swallow it, very hard to do so, putting our hands to our mouths to keep it down.
"Feel anything?" Dean asked.
"No," Sam answered. "You feel anything?"
I shook my head. "No." I held up the cup, looking into it. "Maybe we got some bad shwag."
We heard thunder from outside, rain pattering on the window.
Sam looked over, confused. "Hey, when did it start raining?"
I looked over to the window, standing, walking toward it slowly, drawing open the white curtain liners, revealing that the rain was not coming from the sky, but from the ground. "When did it start raining upside down?"
I turned to face Sam and Dean.
All of the colors seemed to have drained away, now standing in a familiar-looking house but it looked different.
We looked around.
I looked back at the window to see that it had been replaced by a fireplace.
The entire living room had turned into a living room.
"Okay, I don't know what's weirder," Dean told us. "The fact that we're in Bobby's head... or that he's dreaming of Better Homes and Gardens."
I looked around in realization. "Wait. Wait a sec. Imagine the place, uh, without the paint job." I gestured around the place. "More cluttered, dusty, books all over the place."
We began to walk around the living room.
"It's your house," Dean realized.
I nodded. "This is what it looked like before we started hunting. Before..." I didn't finish, thinking about the painful memory, uncomfortable. Sam and Dean looked at me. I looked away, calling out. "Dad?" I walked to the opening of the living room, by the stairs, feeling someone watching me, turning around. I didn't see anyone, turning back around, walking slowly to the stairs, up to the top. "Dad?"
"Ness?" Dean called. I looked toward them, walking down the stairs. "We're gonna go look outside."
I walked into the foyer. "No, no, no, stay close."
"Ness, we'll be fine," Sam told me. "Just, look around in here. Look, we gotta find him."
"Don't do anything stupid," I told them.
Sam and Dean nodded, walking outside.
~~
I opened the doors to the kitchen, walking in, looking around cautiously, toward the hallway on the other side. "Dad?" I walked into the hallway, where there was two doors. One across from the kitchen, and one on the left. "Dad!"
I turned around, hearing something, looking down the hallway in the other direction.
There was another closed door that Dad's voice came from. "Who's out there?"
I turned back to the door on my left, walking over to the door, seeing long scratchmarks on it, touching them, going for the doorknob, whispering. "Dad, you in there?"
"Ness?" Dad asked.
"Yeah," I answered. "It's me. Open up." Dad opened the door, looking behind me. "Hey."
Dad walking into the kitchen, looking scared, looking around to make sure no one was there.
I walked toward him.
"How in the hell did you find me?" Dad asked.
"Sam, Dean and I got our hands on some of that Dream Root stuff," I answered.
"Dream Root?" Dad repeated. "What?"
"Dr. Gregg, the experiments," I told him.
Dad looked around, turning to me. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"The case," I answered.
The lamps began to flicker.
"Hurry," Dad told me, running for the closet.
I turned after him, grabbing his arm to stop him, trying to figure out what was going on. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on?"
"She's coming," Dad told me.
"Okay, you know this is a dream, don't you?" I asked.
"What are you, crazy?" Dad asked.
"It's a dream, Dad," I told him. "None of this is real."
Dad pointed behind me. "Does that look made-up?"
I turned to see a little brunette girl running toward us, scratches over her face and arms, running past me.
The little girl grabbed Dad's arm. "She's coming, Daddy. She's really mad at you. She's gonna kill me."
I turned to face Dad in shock. "Is that..."
"That's you," Dad answered.
"So, you're talking to a younger version of me, and to present-time me, and you're not convinced that this is a dream?" I asked. Dad didn't answer. I thought back to what Young Me had said. "Wait. She..." Young Me looked behind me, hiding behind Dad in fear. I turned to see a familiar woman walking closer, wearing a bloodstained white dress, the blood coming from wounds on her neck and chest. The closet door behind us slammed closed. Young Me turned to the door, rattling the doorknob, but the door didn't open. Dad and I looked at Young Me. Young Me turned to us in fear, holding Dad's arm, blood starting to bleed from her wounds. I looked at the woman in shock, my voice barely above a whisper. "M... Mom?"
~~
Mom walked closer. "Why, Bobby? Why did you do this to me?"
Dad, Young Me and I backed away in the kitchen.
Mom stood in the doorway.
"I'd rather died myself than hurt you," Dad told her.
"But you did hurt me," Mom told him. "You shoved that knife into me. Again and again. You watched me bleed. Watched me die."
I held Dad's shoulder. "Dad, she's not real."
Dad didn't answer.
"How could you?" Mom asked.
Dad was close to crying. "You were possessed, baby. You were trying to hurt Ness. And I didn't know what I know now. I didn't know how to save you."
"You're lying," Mom told him. "You wanted me dead. If you'd loved me, you would've found a way!"
Dad's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."
I grabbed Dad's shoulders, pulling him toward the living room. "Come on!"
I turned back, closing the sliding doors.
Mom ran closer angrily, violently, like the demon that had possessed her.
Young Me screamed.
~~
Young Me was still screaming. "Daddy! Daddy, she's hurting me! Why won't you help me?"
The doors started to shake.
I leaned against the doors, keeping them closed. "I'm telling you, all of it. This house, Mom, Young Me, it's a nightmare!"
Dad stood nearby.
I grabbed a wire to tie around the door handles.
Dad started to cry. "I killed her."
I turned to face him. "Dad! This is your dream. And you can wake up. I mean, hell, you can do anything." Dad slowly shook his head. I grabbed his shoulders. "Look at me. Look at me." Dad looked at me. "You gotta snap out of this now. You gotta snap out of this now! You're not gonna die. I'm not gonna let you die. I'm not gonna let you die. You're my father. And you killed Mom to save me. You. Saved. Me. Don't you dare think that there was anything that I wouldn't do for you. You gotta believe me, please."
I looked at Dad for a moment, hoping that he could be brought out of this.
Dad looked toward the door, where we could still hear Young Me screaming and crying as Mom did to her what she had done to me all those years ago. He looked at me. "I'm dreaming?"
"Yes," I answered. "Now take control of it."
Dad looked toward the door, closing his eyes tightly, concentrating.
Young Me stopped screaming and crying. The doors stopped shaking. We were left in silence.
I let go of Dad, walking toward the doors, removing the cable, sliding the doors open, revealing an empty kitchen.
"I don't believe it," Dad told me.
I turned around to face Dad, as effected by this as he was, breathing deeply. "Believe it. Now would you please wake up?"
~~
I woke up in the motel room with Sam and Dean, both of them waking up at the same moment, sitting up, breathing heavily.
I looked at the glass in my hand, looking at Sam and Dean, having trouble hiding how effected I had been about the dream.
"Ness?" Dean asked. "You okay?"
I slowly shook my head, looking down.
~~
In the hospital, I sat at Dad's bedside.
Dad was sitting in bed, looking over the papers from the case.
"Hey, Dad," I told him.
"What?" Dad asked.
"I'm sorry," I told him.
"Don't be sorry," Dad told me. "If it weren't for you, I'd still be lost in there. Or dead. Thank you."
"That's not what I mean," I told him.
"Then what?" Dad asked.
"You... did what you did... to save me," I told him. "If it wasn't for me..."
"Don't even go there, Nessie," Dad told me. "She was gonna kill you. I did what I had to do. Do I regret hurting her? Of course I do. But I don't regret saving you."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about," I told him. "You killed her to save me. You chose your daughter over your wife. Where am I supposed to go with that, Dad?"
Dad didn't have an answer.
Sam and Dean walked in.
"So, uh, stoner boy wasn't in his dorm," Sam told us. "My guess is he's long gone by now."
"He ain't much of a stoner," Dad told us, picking up a picture of Jeremy, the guy that had tried to kill Dad, Sam and Dean in the dream.
"No?" Dean asked.
"No," Dad answered. "His name's Jeremy Frost. Full-on genius. 160 IQ. Which is saying something, considering his dad took a baseball bat to his head." I tilted my head barely. Dad picked up another paper, handing it to me. "Here's Father of the Year." I looked at the copy of a driver's license for Jeremy's dad, Henry David Frost. "He died before Jeremy was 10."
"Looks like a real sweetheart," I told them sarcastically, handing the picture to Sam for him to see it.
"Injury gave him Charcot-Wilbrand," Dad explained. "He hasn't dreamt sine."
Sam handed the picture to Dean.
Dean took it, looking it over. "Till he started dosing the dream drug."
"Yep," Dad agreed.
Dean put the picture on the table. "How'd he know how to dig up your worst nightmare and throw it at you?"
"Hey, he was rooting around in my skull," Dad told us. "God knows what he saw in there."
"Yeah," I agreed. "How'd he get in there in the first place? Isn't he supposed to have some of your hair, your DNA, or something?"
"Yeah," Dad answered. "Before I knew it was him, he offered me a beer. I drank it." Dean looked as if he was realizing something. "Dumbest freaking thing."
Dean realized what happened, trying to make it a bit lighter. "Oh, I don't know. It wasn't that dumb."
Dean laughed nervously.
Sam, Dad and I looked at him.
"Dean, you didn't," Sam told him.
"I was thirsty," Dean told us.
I looked from Dean to Dad sarcastically. "That's great. Now he can come after either one of you."
"Well, now we just have to find him first," Dean told us.
"We better work fast, and coffee up," Dad told him. "Because the one thing we cannot do is fall asleep."
I sighed, putting a hand to my head.
~~
Two days later, we were still looking for Jeremy.
After dark, I stood in the motel room with Dad and Bela, calling Dean.
"Tell me you got something."
"Strip club was a bust, huh?"
"Yeah."
"That was our last lead."
"What the hell, Ness?"
"What the hell are you yelling at me for? I'm working my ass off here. We all are."
"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm just... I'm—I'm—I'm tired."
Bela was using the spirit board to try to help us find Jeremy with the help of spirits.
"Well, who ain't?"
"What's Bela got?"
"What do you got, Bela?"
"Sorry," Bela told us. "Sometimes the spirit world is in a chatty mood, and sometimes, it isn't."
I spoke to Dean on the phone, walking toward the door. "She's got nothing."
I opened the door, walking out, closing the door behind me.
"Great. Well, I'm just gonna go blow my brains out now."
I walked along the sidewalk connected to the parking lot toward the vending machines. "Mm, it might save you from a more worse fate thanks to yours truly Jeremy."
"Ha ha ha, very funny."
I reached the vending machine, looking it over, putting money into it, pressing the button for a few chocolate bars. "See you on the other side."
I hung up.
~~
Dean and I were in the motel room the next day, packing up.
"So you took a chance on falling asleep to get to Jeremy and Sam killed him before he killed you guys?" I asked.
"Yeah, that about sums it up," Dean answered.
"And the only reason why you two are alive right now is because Sam somehow overpowered Jeremy in his own world," I told him. "You sure it had nothing to with his psychic powers?"
"To be honest, I'm not sure of anything anymore," Dean told me. I turned toward the door. "Wait, Ness." I turned to face him. Dean sighed, hesitating. "We heard you back in the hospital, that stuff about your mom." I looked away, knowing where this was going. "And Sam told me what he knew about it from when Meg possessed him and went after you, but he didn't remember the whole story."
I sighed, looking up. "Dean..."
"That, uh..." Dean trailed off. "That actually happened?"
"Everybody got into hunting somehow," I told him.
Dean took that in. "I'm sorry."
I barely nodded, looking away. "Thanks."
Dean sighed. "Yeah."
Dean and I looked at each other.
I heard the door open behind me, turning to see Sam and Dad, pretending like nothing happened, acting normal. "Hey, you guys seen Bela? She's not in her room. She's not answering her phone."
Dad closed the door.
"She must've taken off or something," Sam told us.
"Just like that?" Dean asked. 'It's a little weird."
"Yeah, well, if you ask me what's weird is why she helped us in the first place," Dad told us.
"I thought you saved her life," I told him.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Dad asked.
"The thing in Flagstaff," Dean answered.
Sam turned to face Dad.
"That thing in Flagstaff was an amulet," Dad told us. "I gave her a good deal, that's all."
Dean closed his mouth in confusion.
Sam turned around to face Dean and me in confusion, turning to Dad. "Well, then why did y—"
"You better check your pockets," Dad told us. Sam and Dean reached into their pockets. "Not literally."
I looked at them in realization, turning around, walking toward the closet. "No, no, no, no." I opened the safe, revealing it to be empty. "The Colt." I looked toward the boys, slamming the safe closed. "Bela stole the Colt."
"Damn it!" Dad told us.
"Pack your crap," Dean told us, walking toward his bag on the couch.
"Why?" Sam asked. "Where are we going?"
Dean turned to face us. "We're going to hunt the bitch down."
I barely nodded, looking away.
And because I had gotten us in this mess, thanks to me asking for Bela's help in the first place, I was gonna help them look for Bela to try and get the Colt back.