LAKESIDE
"Before Dad died he, he told me something -- something about you," Dean said.
"What? Dean, what did Dad tell you?" Sam asked.
Dean looked at Sam. "He said that he wanted me to watch out for you two, to take care of you two."
Sam frowned. "He told you that a million times."
"No, this time was different. He said that I had to save you."
"Save me from what?"
"He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered; and that if I couldn't, I'd..."
"You'd what?"
"That I'd have to kill you. He said I might have to kill you, Sammy."
"Kill me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know."
"I mean, he must have had some kind of reason for saying it, right? Did he know the demon's plans for me? Am I supposed to go Darkside or something? What else did he say, Dean?"
"Nothing, that's it, I swear."
"How could you not have told me this? Or have not told Kit this?"
"Because it was Dad, and he begged me not to. I'm not gonna tell Kit about what I might have to do to you."
"Who cares?! Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!"
"You think I wanted this? Huh? I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth. Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day."
Sam turned and took a few steps away, fuming. "We've just got to figure out what's going on, then, what the hell this all means."
"We do? I've been thinking about this, I think we should just lay low. You know? At least for awhile. It'd be safe. And that way I can make sure-"
"What? that I don't turn evil? That I don't turn into some kind of killer?"
"I never said that."
"Jeez, if you're not careful, you will have to waste me one day, Dean."
"I never said that! Damn it, Sam, this whole thing is spinning out of control. All right? You're immune to some weirdo demon virus, and I don't even know what the hell anymore. And you're pissed at me, I get it. That's fine, I deserve it. But we lay low until we figure out our next move, okay?"
"Forget it."
"Sam please, man. Hey, please. Just give me some time. Give me some time to think, okay? I'm begging you here, please. Please."
Sam nodded reluctantly and looked at Lexi who was glaring at Dean.
Sam left the motel room, a bag over his shoulder. He walked quietly past the Impala to a small black car. Sam looked around, used a crowbar to open the door, and got in before driving away.
CABIN
Sam was standing outside a dark house, holding a piece of motel stationary from The Blue Rose Motel, with an address written on it. He approached the house cautiously. He picked the lock and entered; the house was dark. As he passed through the doorway, he tripped a wire at floor level, which triggered a grenade. It exploded and he screamed. His smoking boots dissolved into a flash of light.
Ava woke up from the vision/nightmare, gasping.
The man behind her stared. "Hey, honey?"
"Oh."
"You okay?"
"No, I just had another nightmare. It's fine, it's nothing. Just go back to sleep."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." She laid down again, still panting.
ROADHOUSE
Sam entered the Roadhouse and heads turned. Ellen was behind the bar and looked up as he approached.
She smiled knowingly. "Sam."
"Hey, Ellen," Sam greeted, grinning sheepishly. "You don't seem that surprised to see me."
"Well, your brother's been calling, worried sick, looking for you. Apparently Kit was whiny."
"Yeah. Figured he might. She does like spending time with us both."
"What's going on between you two?"
"So, um, how's Jo?"
Ellen nodded. "Well, I don't really know."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I haven't seen her in weeks. She sends a postcard now and again."
"Well after she worked that job with you boys, she decided she wanted to keep on hunting. I said "not under my roof", and she said "fine"."
"So I'm probably the last person you want to see right now."
Ellen let out a throaty chuckle. "Oh, don't get me wrong. I wish I could blame the hell out of you boys. It'd be easier. Truth is, it's not your fault. None of it is. I want you to know that I forgave your daddy a long time ago for what happened to my Bill. I just don't think he ever forgave himself."
"What did happen?"
"Um, so, why did you come here, sweetie?"
"I need help."
Later, Ellen and Sam were talking to Ash, who was looking around furtively.
"What am I looking for, Sam?" Ash asked.
"Other people, other psychics, like me," Sam replied. "As many as possible, and we need a nationwide search."
Ellen frowned. "But I thought there was no way to track them all down. Not all of them had nursery fires like you did."
"Well, no, but some had to. Start there."
Ash left and eventually emerged from his back room with a piece of paper in hand and gave it a flourish. "Done, and done."
"That was fast."
"Well, apparently, that's my job. Make the monkey dance at the keyboard."
He sighed. "Just tell us what you got, Ash."
"Four folks fit the profile nationwide. Born in '83, mother died in a nursery fire, the whole shebang."
"Four? That's it?"
"Sam Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas, Max Miller from Saginaw, Michigan, Andrew Gallagher from Guthrie, Oklahoma, and uh, another name. Scott Carey."
"You got an address?"
"Kind of. The Arbor Hill Cemetery in Lafayette, Indiana. Plot 486."
"So he's dead?"
"Killed, about a month ago."
"Killed how?"
"Stabbed. Parking lot. Fuzz don't have much, no suspects-"
"All right. Thank you."
As he got up to leave, Ash slapped him on the back and when was were out of eyeshot, Ash picked up Sam's half-full beer and started drinking it.
"Where are you going?" Ellen asked.
"Indiana," Sam replied.
"Sam? I've gotta call Dean, I've gotta let him know where you are."
"Ellen. I'm trying to find answers, about who I am. And my brother means well, but he can't protect me from that. Please."
CAREY HOUSE
Sam was sitting with Scott's father in his living room, talking.
"So you say you went to high school with Scott?" Mr. Carey asked.
"Uh, yes sir, I did," Sam replied. "I just heard about what happened, I'm so sorry."
"Scotty was a good boy. He changed a lot since you knew him."
"What do you mean?"
"It started about a year ago with these headaches. And then he got depressed, paranoid, nightmares."
"Nightmares? Um, did he ever talk to you about his nightmares? What he saw, or-"
"No, no. He closed up with me. I tried to get him help, but nothing took. He'd just lock himself in his room for days."
"You think maybe I could see his room?"
Sam made his way to Scott's room and began poking around. The room had a bare bed with a sleeping bag, some bookshelves covered in books and cassette tapes. On the bedside table they saw several bottles of pills, prescribed by Dr. George Waxler. Sam looked behind him, then pocketed one bottle. He opened Scott's closet and shoved aside the clothes to reveal a collage of yellow eyes cut out of photos or magazines glued to the wall and stared.
BLUE ROSE MOTEL
Sam walked across the parking lot. As he got to the door, he sensed he was being followed. He turned and grabbed the figure behind him, shoving her against the wall. It was Ava.
"Who are you?" Sam asked.
"Please! You're in danger," Ava warned.
They entered the motel and Ava paced as she talked frantically. "Okay, look, I know how all this sounds, but I am not insane and I am not on drugs. Okay? I am normal, and the is way, way off the map for me."
"All right, all right, just, just calm down," Sam told her. "Okay? What's your name?"
"Ava."
"Ava?"
"Ava Wilson."
"Ava, I'm Sam Winchester, all right? Now, you were telling me about these dreams of yours?"
"Uh, yeah, uh, okay, about a year ago I started having these, like, headaches, and just, nightmares, I guess. And I didn't think much of it until I had this one dream where I saw the guy get stabbed in a parking lot."
"When was this?"
"Uh, a month ago. But, anyway, a couple of years later, I found this."
She pulled out a newspaper clipping and handed it to Sam. It read 'LOCAL MAN STABBED TO DEATH IN PARKING LOT' next to a picture of Scott Carey and Sam took the clipping.
Ava continued. "I saw this guy die, days before it happened. I don't know why, I don't know, it's just for some reason, my dreams are coming true. And last night I had another one."
"Okay," Sam noted.
"About you. I saw you die."
"How did you find me?"
"Oh, uh, you had motel stationary, and I Googled the motel, and it was real, and so I just thought that I should warn you."
"I don't believe this," Sam muttered.
"Oh, oh, of course you don't. You think I'm a total nut job."
"Wait, no, no, no, I mean, you must be one of us."
"Sorry, one of, one of who?"
"One of the psychics. Like me. Look, Ava, I have visions too, all right? So we're connected."
Ava laughed. "Okay, so, you're nuts. That's great."
"Okay, okay, look. Did your mother happen to die in a house fire?"
"No, my mother lives in Palm Beach!"
"So you don't fit the pattern either."
Ava frowned at him in confusion.
BLACKTOP
Dean was driving, and his phone rang. Kit was babbling in back.
He picked up. "Hello?"
Ellen, at the Roadhouse, said, "It's Ellen."
"Hey, have you heard from Sam?"
"I have, but he made me promise not to tell you where they are."
"Come on, Ellen, please. Something bad could be going on here, and I swore I'd look after that kid."
"Now Dean, they say you can't protect your loved ones forever." She paused. "Well, I say screw that. What else is family for? He's in Lafayette, Indiana."
"Thanks."
BLUE ROSE MOTEL
"Why can't you just leave town?" Ava asked. "Please? Before you blow up?"
"No, I can't," Sam replied.
"Oh, God. Why not?"
"Because there's something going on here, Ava. With you, with me. I mean, there are others like us out there. And we're all a part of something, and I've got to figure out what."
"Okay. You know what? Screw you, buddy. Okay? Because I'm a secretary from Peoria and I'm not part of anything! Okay? Do you see this?" She fingered her engagement ring. "I am getting married in eight weeks. I am supposed to be at home addressing invitations, which I am way behind on, by the way. But instead, I drove out here to save your weirdo ass. But if you just want to stay here and die, fine. Me? I'm due back on Planet Earth."
"Don't you want to know why this is happening? I mean, don't these visions scare the hell out of you? Because you walk out that door right now, you might never know the truth. I need your help."
DR. WAXLER'S OFFICE
Ava was sitting in Dr. Waxler's office for a therapy session, to cover for Sam's mission of covert theft.
"So, Ms. Wilson, you're new in town," Dr. Waxler said.
"That's right," Ava confirmed.
"And what made you seek out therapy?"
"I have no idea."
"No?"
"No. I mean, I'm feeling really super anxious right now-"
"Okay, anything else?"
"Um..." She saw Sam inching by on the window ledge outside. "Holy crap!"
"What?" He turned to the window as a few pigeons flew off.
"I just remembered, when I was a kid, I swallowed like, eight things of pop rocks and then drank a whole can of Coke, you don't think that that counts as a suicide attempt, do you?"
BLUE ROSE MOTEL
Ava and Sam returned to the motel room with Scott's files and Ava looked stunned.
"Are you okay?" Sam asked.
"Am I okay?" Ava repeated.
"Yeah."
"I just helped you steal some dead guy's confidential psych files. I'm awesome!"
Later, the voice recorder was sitting on the table, next to an open file folder. A record from the therapy session was playing.
"It started a little over a year ago," Scott said. "Migraines, at first. Then I found I could do... stuff."
"What do you mean, do stuff?" Waxler asked.
"I have this ability. When I touch something, I can electrocute it if I want."
Dean pulled into the parking lot in the Impala when he saw Sam through the window of his room and sighed in relief.
"Oh, thank God you're okay," Dean said as Sam moved aside, revealing Ava through the window and he smiled. "Oh, you're better than okay. Sam, you sly dog!"
Inside the motel room, the recording continued. Sam was leaning over the table, looking more concerned.
"What else does the yellow-eyed man said?" Waxler questioned.
"He has plans for me," Scott replied. "He says there's a war coming. That people like me, we're going to be the soldiers. Everything's about to change."
The recording ended and Ava asked, "He's not talking about us, right?"
"Yeah, I think he is," Sam said.
"But how can we turn into that?"
"I don't-"
The window above Sam's head shattered as it was hit with a bullet. He dove to the floor with Ava, shielding her body with his.
"Get down!" Sam yelled.
"Oh my God!" Ava cried.
Dean turned to his daughter. "I'll be back, kiddo."
Kit whimpered as she watched the gunshots firing.
Across the street, Gordon was on a rooftop with a sniper rifle and continued to take aim and fire at the motel room.
Inside the room, Ava asked, "What's happening?"
"I don't know," Sam admitted.
As Gordon was about to take another head-shot at Sam, Dean jumped him from behind.
"Gordon!" Dean yelled.
Dean kicked Gordon hard, then pinned hm down on his back, hitting him over and over again in the face.
He grabbed him by the collar. "You do that to my brother, I'll kill you!"
"Dean, wait," Gordon said.
Gordon knocked slammed the rifle into Dean twice, knocking him out. He stood over Dean, panting and gushing blood from his lip.
Outside the motel room, Ava and Sam investigated the roof from which Gordon was shooting at them.
"Wait, I don't understand," Ava said. "Shouldn't we be talking to the cops?"
"Trust me, that wouldn't do us much good," Sam replied as he picked up a shell. "There are .223 caliber. Subsonic grounds, the guy must have put a suppressor on the rifle."
"Dude, who are you?"
"Oh. I just, uh, I just watch a lot of TJ Hooker." He pulled out his phone.
"Who are you calling?"
"My brother. I think we definitely need help."
CABIN
Dean was tied to a chair, Kit was tied to another chair's leg, kicking and screaming, and Gordon was holding the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" Dean asked.
"Dean!" Sam called.
"Sam, I've been looking for you."
"Yeah. Look, I'm in Indiana, uh, Lafayette."
"I know."
"You do?"
"Yeah, I talked to Ellen. Just got here myself. It's a real funkytown. You ditched me and my kid."
"Yeah, I'm sorry. Look, right now there's someone after me."
"What? Who?"
"I don't know, that's what I need to find out. Where are you?"
"I'm staying at, uh, 5637 Monroe St., why don't you meet me here?"
"Yeah, sure." He hung up.
Gordon looked at Dean. "Now, was that so hard?"
"Bite me," Dean retorted.
Kit had begun crying harder and Dean smiled as he said, "It'll be okay, sweetheart."
MOTEL ROOF
Sam put his phone away, a worried expression on his face.
"What is it?" Ava wondered.
"My brother's in trouble," Sam said.
"What?"
"He gave me a codeword. Someone's got a gun on him."
"Codeword?"
"Yeah. Funkytown." He paused. "Well, he thought of it. It's kind of a... long story, I, come on."
CABIN
Gordon had his back to Dean. He opened a canvas bag and started pulling out weapons.
"So Gordy," Dean began. "I know me and Sam ain't exactly your favorite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?"
"What, you think this is revenge?" Gordon questioned.
"Well we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days." He smirked and laughed. "Which was awesome. Sorry, I shouldn't laugh."
"Yeah. I was definitely planning on whuppin' your asses for that."
"Mm-hmm."
"But that's not what this is. This isn't personal. I'm not a killer, Dean. I'm a hunter. And your brother is fair game." He slammed a knife into its sheath and Dean looked at him, shocked.
Dean turned to his daughter and gave her as reassuring a smile as he could muster. "It'll be okay, sweetie. Uncle Sam will be okay." He added quietly, "He has to be."
STREET
Sam and Ava approached her blue VW Beetle.
"I don't think I should leave," Ava said.
"I want you out of harm's way, Ava," Sam told her.
"What about you?"
"Harm's way doesn't really bother me."
"No, but you're walking right into my vision. I mean, this is how you die."
"Doesn't matter. It's my brother."
"Maybe I could help!"
"You've done all you can. Just, just go back to your fiancé."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Go home, Ava. You'll be safe there."
Ava got in the car. "Well, just, promise me you'll call, then. I mean, when you get your brother, just to let me know that everything's all right."
"I promise."
CABIN
Gordon was leaning against a pillar, near a crying Kit. He was cradling a rifle and speaking casually. "See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana. Teenage girl, seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the damn thing muttered something. About a coming war. And I don't think it meant to, it just kind of slipped out. But t was too late. Peaked my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, you got the right tools."
"And what happened to the girl it was possessing?" Dean asked.
"She didn't make it."
"Well, ain't you a son of a bitch."
Gordon stared, stood, and slapped him. "That's my momma you're talking about." He paused a beat. "Anyway. This demon tells me there are soldiers to fight in this coming war. Humans, fighting on Hell's side. You believe that? I mean, they're psychics, so they're not exactly pure humans, but still. What kind of worthless scumbag have you got to be to turn against your own race?" Dean glared. "But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester."
Dean chuckled. "Oh, this is a whole new level of moronic, even for you."
"Yeah? Come on, Dean. I know. About Sam's visions. I know everything."
"Really? Because a demon told you?" He laughed. "Yeah, and it wasn't lying."
"Hey, Dean. I'm not some reckless yahoo, okay? I did my homework. Made damn sure it was true. Look, you've got your Roadhouse connection, I got mine. It's how I found Sammy in the first place." He crossed to the corner and sat. "About a month ago, I found another one of these freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching him."
"Yeah, did he kill anyone?"
"Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No. But he was working up to it. They're all going to be killers, Dean. We've got to take them all out. And that means Sammy too." He cocked the rifle.
"You think Sam is stupid enough to walk through that front door?"
"No, I don't. Especially since I'm sure you found a way to warn him. Ha. You really think I'm that stupid?" Dean raised his eyebrows meaningfully and Gordon stood and started pacing. "No. Sammy is going to scope the place, see me covering the front door, so he's going to take the back. And when he does, he'll hit the tripwire. Then," he took a grenade from his bag, "boom."
"Sam isn't gonna fall for a friggin' tripwire."
"Maybe you're right. That's why I'll have a second one." He paused. "Hey, look. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this, I really do. But for what it's worth, it'll be quick."
Gordon set up the tripwire across the back doorway and returned to the room where Dean was tied up and straddled a chair.
"Come on, man," Dean began. "I know Sam, better than anyone. He's got more of a conscience than I do, I mean, the guy feels guilty surfing the Internet for porn."
"Maybe you're right. But one day he's going to be a monster."
"How? Huh? How's a guy like Sam become a monster?"
"Beats me. But he will."
"No, you don't know that!"
"I'm surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had Little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was going to turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?"
"That's not Sam."
"Yes it is. You just can't see it yet. Dean, it's their destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you." He reached into his bag and pulled out a scarf and stood. "But here's the thing." He gagged Dean with the scarf. "It would wreck them. But your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here. But you're telling me you're not the man he is? You're telling me you refuse to do what it takes?" He tried to gag Kit, holding her legs down as she tried to kick him. Kit bit him and began wailing.
Dean glared at him furiously.
Just like Ava's vision, Sam approached the cabin, holding up the sheet of motel stationary. He saw Dean, Kit and Gordon through the boarded-up window, then ran around back. He tried the door and found it locked. He pulled out his lock pick and worked it open.
The clicks were heard in the front room. Dean looked around wildly.
"You hear him?" Gordon asked.
In the back room, Sam got the door open and crept in.
"Here he comes," Gordon told him.
Dean flinched helplessly as the first grenade exploded and screamed at Gordon. Kit screamed and her crying continued.
"Hold on," Gordon said. "Not yet. Just wait and see."
The second grenade went off. Dean struggled, violently choke-sobbing through his gag.
Gordon crossed the room and stopped beside him. "Sorry, Dean."
He went into the back room, rifle ready. He saw Sam's smoking boots on the ground, just like in the vision; he smiled, still wary. As he turned away from the back, Sam raised a gun to the back of Gordon's head and cocked it.
"Drop the gun," Sam ordered in a low, warning tone.
"Shouldn't take your shoes off around here," Gordon said. "You might get tetanus."
"Put it down now!"
In the front room, Dean heard Sam's voice and grunted in relief.
Out back, Gordon slowly lowered the rifle to the floor. "You wouldn't shoot me, would you, Sammy? Because your brother, he thinks you're some kind of saint."
"Yeah? Well, I wouldn't be so sure," Sam retorted.
"See, that's what I said."
He turned quickly, knocking the gun out of Sam's hand and attacked him methodically until he went down. In the front room, Dean heard the scuffle and struggled against the ropes. Kit was still crying. Out back, Gordon slowly approached Sam, who was flat on his back, coughing.
Gordon pulled out his knee. "You're no better than the filthy things you hunt."
As Gordon raised the knife, Sam lashed out, flipping Gordon over. He punched him twice, then grabbed the rifle and pointed it at his head.
"Do it. Do it! Show your brother the killer you really are, Sammy."
Sam hesitated, then slammed the butt of the rifle into Gordon's head, knocking him out.
Sam fumed. "It's Sam."
Sam scuffled exhaustedly to the room where Dean was tied up. Dean struggled and grunted as he watched Sam approach. Sam clapped him on the shoulder as he knelt beside him untying the ropes. Dean pulled off his own gag frantically, then pulled Sam up to standing. Dean cupped his hand around Sam's neck, staring at him, and Sam called a hand to Dean's shoulder. Dean pushed away before untying his daughter and held her, softly consoling her.
Dean, still holding Kit, began to stagger toward the back room as he said, "That son of a..."
"Dean. No," Sam told him.
Dean frowned. "I let him live once. I'm not making the same mistake twice."
"Trust us. Gordon's taken care of," Sam told him. "Come on." He reached out and fisted Dean's jacket, pulling him toward the front door.
They exited the cabin and walked down the steps and away from it. Moments later, Gordon emerged, a gun in hand, and began firing. They ducked and ran for cover.
"You call this taken care of?" Dean retorted as he, Kit and Sam dove into a ditch by the side of the road and huddled, watching him approach. "What the hell are we doing?"
"Just trust us on this, all right?" Sam said.
As Gordon approached, three police cars, sirens blaring, pulled into the clearing and surrounded Gordon. Cops emerged, weapons ready.
"Drop your weapons, get down on your knees!" cop one ordered.
"Do it, now!" cop two demanded.
Sam and Dean grinned at each other as Gordon dropped to his knees. Kit cuddled close to her father, looking at Gordon fearfully.
"Put your hands on your head," cop two said. "Easy now."
The cop cuffed Gordon and patted him down, then led him to a squad car. Another opened the back door of Gordon's red car and pulled out the weapons rack.
"Anonymous tip," Sam clarified.
"You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam," Dean told him, tenderly tucking Kit's hair back. "It's okay now, sweetheart."
HARVELLE'S ROADHOUSE
Inside, Ellen was on the phone, talking to Dean, and keeping her voice down. "Gordon Walker was hunting Sam?"
ROAD
Dean was on the phone. "Yeah, and he almost killed us all because somebody over there can't keep their friggin' mouth shut."
"And you honestly think that it was me? Or Ash? Or Jo? No way."
"Well, who else knows about Sam? Huh? I mean, you must have been talking to somebody."
"Hey, you can say a lot of things about us. But we are not disloyal. And we're not stupid. We haven't breathed a word of this."
"Gordon said he had Roadhouse connections, Ellen."
"And this roadhouse is full of other hunters. They're all smart. They're good trackers. Each of them with their own patterns and connections. Look, hell, I could name 12 of them right now that are capable of putting this together." She sighed. "I am sorry about what happened, Dean. But I can't control these people. Or what they choose to believe."
He hung up and drove in silence awhile.
Sam called a number. "Hey, Ava, it's Sam, again. Um, call me when you get this, just want to make sure you got home okay. All right. Bye."
"Everything all right?"
"Yeah, I hope so."
"Well, Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years at least."
"Yeah. If they pin Scott Carey's murder on him. And if he doesn't bust out."
"Dude, you ever take off like that again..."
"What? You'll kill me?"
"That is so not funny."
Sam laughed. "All right. All right. So where to next, then?"
"One word: Amsterdam."
"Dean!"
"Come on, man, I hear the coffeeshops don't even serve coffee."
Sam looked at his brother, smiling lightly at his sleeping niece. "I'm not just gonna ditch the job."
"Screw the job," Dean said. "Screw it, man, I'm sick of the job anyway. I mean, we don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get is bad luck."
"Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do."
"Oh, I wasn't meant to do anything. I don't believe in that destiny crap."
"You mean you don't believe in destiny."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Look, Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California, and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me or Kit."
"I can try."
"Look, Dean, I'm gonna keep hunting." Dean nodded. "I mean, whatever is coming, I'm taking it head-on, so if you really want to watch my back, then I guess you're gonna have to stick around."
"Bitch."
They grinned and after a beat, Sam frowned and picked up his phone again.
"You calling that Ava girl again?" Dean asked. "You sweet on her or something?"
"She's engaged, Dean," Sam told him.
"So? What's the point of saving the world if you can't get a little nookie once in awhile, huh?"
Sam hung up, scowling in thought and Dean asked, "What?"
"Just a feeling," Sam answered. "How far is it to Peoria?"
AVA WILSON'S HOUSE
Sam and Dean broke into Ava's house, with flashlights. Kit asleep in the back of the Impala.
"Hello?" Sam called. "Is anybody home?"
They went into the bedroom to find Ava's fiancé dead, face-up on the bed, his shirt and the sheets soaked in blood.
"Oh, my God," Sam said.
Dean ran a finger along the windowsill, staring at the powdery substance collected there. "Hey. Sulfur. Demon's been here."
Sam noticed something on the floor and knelt to pick it up. It was Ava's engagement ring.
"Ava," Sam stated in a shocked tone.