"You're a woman, would you please go talk to her." Sam pleaded, giving you his signature puppy dog eye look, and you could never say no to that, which he knew.

"Sam, are you afraid of a middle aged woman?" Dean teased, leaning against the trunk of the Impala, his arms and ankles crossed as he made fun of his brother.

"Dean, she had her gun pointed at my crotch!." Sam answered, and Dean look horrified.

"Well, I'm sure as hell not going to try then." He answered, placing his hand in front of his own crotch, as if that would protect it from a gunshot.

Sighing, you nodded. "Fine. I will go talk to her. But Dean, you're coming with me. She might be more open to a couple. Sam, you sneak around, try to get in the basement."

Sam nodded, but Dean stayed put. "Do you really need me?" He asked, glancing at the front porch of the house.

"Dean, I won't let her shoot you in the privates. I love our night time activities too much for that to happen." You told him, and Sam hid a laugh behind a cough.

You and Dean made your way up the porch steps, noticing the stuff piled high in the windows, the cobwebs on the corners. Knocking on the door, you waited until the door opened, and an older, frazzled woman opened the door. "What do you want?" She snarled, the door open wide enough you could just see her face.

"Did you see a guy earlier? A tall guy, with longer hair? We are part of the neighborhood watch, and we heard complaints about him." Dean improvised, and you could see the woman relax just a little bit.

"Yeah, I saw him. He wanted to come in the house. Probably wanted to rob me or something. But I showed him. Me and Henry here." She answered, showing you the pistol as she opened the door farther.

"Ma'am, do you mind if we come in and talk to you for a moment?" You asked her, and she shrugged, before turning her back on you, and heading through the crowded house. She moved through the living room, past the dining room, into the kitchen. Every spare inch of the countertops were covered with items and boxes, and you had the strangest urge to wash your hands.

"Tea?" She asked, and you nodded, watching as you put the kettle on to boil.

"So, have you lived here long?" You asked, hoping Sam was already inside and working on the safe where the book was being held.

"All my life. My parents lived here, then when they died, I lived her with my aunt." She answered, getting down a couple of mugs.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to your parents?" You questioned, trying to keep her occupied, and distracted from the light sounds coming from the basement.

"It was that thing. It's evil. I've stayed here, so no one else will get hurt." She said, her gaze turning glassy as she remembered, her hands shaking. It was then you heard the tumble of chairs from down below.

"It's that man, he's back! And you're working with him!" She exclaimed, grabbing her pistol and waving it around. "He can't open it! Get him back up here!"

You stayed put, your hands in the air, as Dean inched closer to the hallway. "Sam, she knows. Come back up here."

"Ma'am. We know what we're doing. We're trained to do things like this." You tried telling her, but you quickly stopped when she trained the gun on you, her shaking finger dangerously close to the trigger.

"Sammy, man, come on!" Dean yelled, just as everyone heard a loud click.

"He did it." She said, horror covering her face.A strong gust traveled through the house, before it became strangely quiet.

Sam came bounding up the stairs, a worried look on his face. But by then she seemed to have forgotten about you, stiffly moving from the kitchen.

"What happened?" You asked Sam, as the three of you started to follow her.

"I found it. But there is some sort of magical lock on it. When I tried to open it, a strange gust came out of it, then nothing."

It was then you heard the slam of a door, the study door in front of you. Rushing forward, you tried to open the door, but it was locked.

"Suzie, let us in!" You pleaded, as you listened to her wails. You turned to see if Dean had any ideas, but he wasn't anywhere in view.

"Sam, stay here, I'm going to go find Dean." You told him, and he nodded, never turning his attention from the door. You rushed through the door, finding Dean standing in the middle of the room, a vacant stare on his face.

"Dean?" You asked, waving your hands over his face. He didn't move, or blink, and you were starting to worry. Placing your hand on his shoulder, you froze as the room blurred, then refocused, but you weren't in any part of the house anymore.

You were now in a dark and dreary forest, full of dead and creepy trees. "Dean." You called out, not sure if you should have or not.

"Y/N?" You heard him answer, and you ran to where his voice came from. He was standing next to a fallen log, a primitive weapon in his hand. But that's not what surprised you, it was the man standing next to him. He was handsome, in a big, burly sort of way.

"Who are you? And where are we?" You asked, feeling as if you were being watched.

"Well, aren't you a tall glass of water on summer day." The man drawled in a southern accent. "The names Benny. And this here is Purgatory."

You gasped. You had heard of purgatory, Dean has told you stories. But you had never imagined you would find yourself there.

"Dean, why are we here? Where's Sam?" You asked him, but he was busy staring down at his arm, where the Mark stood.

"Deans a little preoccupied." Benny told you, before turning back to Dean.

"Don't you think it's time to lay your gun down, to rest?" He told Dean, and you could only watch as Dean nodded.

"It's this Mark. I don't know how much longer I can fight it, how much longer I want to." You heard Dean say.

"Don't fight it. But you can't give in. You're a hunter, not a killer." Benny said in his smooth voice.

"What can I do?" Dean asked, still in a daze.

"Dean stop it!" You yelled, but it was like there was a thick fog between you, because he couldn't hear you at all, and even though you could see Benny's mouth moving, you could no longer hear his words.

You saw Dean looking down, his hand shaking as he raised the knife that was forged from some sort of bone. He raised it up, pointing at his chest, and your heart plummeted as you understood what he was about ready to do.

Forcing your legs to move, you ran forward, everything happening in slow motion. You felt as if you were running through sand, your movements were so slow and heavy. Pushing yourself as hard as you could, you watched as Dean raised the blade high, before slicing the air as it went down, right as you jumped in front of him.