"A DRUNK MAN'S WORDS ARE A SOBER MAN'S THOUGHTS."
STEVE FERGOSI
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Third person POV

In a small town, Prosperity Indiana, population 1,000, consisted locally owned businesses, and a few chained restaurants here and there. A blonde women was at a hair salon, the foil in her hair covering her roots and she clammered from the salon chair talking on the phone.

"Karen don't second guess yourself, yes your house is beautiful, but didn't you tell me a million times that was Rick's dream House, selling it.... you'll punish his ass, Karen and after what you've been through don't you deserve that. . .you do honey. I'll have the papers read tomorrow. Yay! I'm proud of you." She hangs up the phone.

"I'm not good. . .I'm very good." She smiles, handing her phone to her stylist.

He chuckles, adjusting the hair dryer above the bottle blonde's head. Closing the small plastic door to the dryer over her face, he starts the timer.

"Ten minutes is all you need. Holler if you need anything." He smiled, exiting the room, the automatic doors closing behind him.

Music blared loudly in the next room. The blonde became hot, fanning her pink silk robe collar against her sweaty chest. She sighed from the heat and placed her magazine down in her lap. Placing both hands on the dryer and attempting to lift it from her head, she groans seeing as it wouldn't budge.

"Chris!" she yells. Her yells were drowned out by the music blaring loudly in the next room.

"Chris!" she yells again, wincing and shaking her hands as she attempts to free the dryer from her head.

She kicked around the arm rest of the seat, becoming unbearably hot as well. She continued screaming Chris's name, unbeknownst to her stylist. The dryer begins to spark and smoke and she screams, kicking and twitching. Her legs stop twitching and she becomes silent as the timer dings, her body now still.

Chris enters the room.

"Oh my God! Somebody help!" he screeches, as he attempts to remove the dryer from the now dead woman's head. He winces lifting the women's head from the dryer. As she slumped over dead. He screams.

Olivia

It had been just over month now that I'd been with the Winchester's. I now knew that a lot can happen in a month. Cass took on all the Leviathans by himself. Dean killed Sam's friend Amy and didn't tell him, leaving me stuck in the middle. We have been working a few cases here and there and Dean has been drinking his problems away. Sam's started to notice, and I couldn't help but worry for the man. Though since I'm not too good with the whole emotional crap, I thought it was best to leave sleeping dogs lie. I was just hoping that perhaps the problem would resolve itself. Sam on the other hand took to a different approach. The brothers have been bickering much more lately and Sam felt it best if we all took one car, since Dean had a weird love for "Baby" as he called the Impala. I begrudgingly agreed to leave Beth at Bobby's for the time being.

I heaved a sigh, bringing my water bottle up to my lips. I refused to let myself falter by letting my thoughts consume me. I panted, continuing to run a few feet ahead of Sam, looking back as we dashed into the hotel parking lot. Sam sprinted ahead of me, racing into the room before me. I followed close behind, smiling at Dean who was sitting at the small round kitchen table on Sam's laptop. However, my smile faltered at seeing a drink in his hand.

"Somebody better be chasing you," Dean muttered, placing his glass down on the table.

"It's good for you," Sam snarked, reaching into the mini fridge and grabbing a Gatorade.

"No. It's not good for you. You're a mess and you stink," he sighed, clearly irritated. Dean leaned back into his chair, his eyes traveling over my sweaty body, clearing his throat, and quickly returning his gaze to Sam's laptop. "Well, while you two were out being Lance Armstrong—"

I let out an unladylike snort, Dean's eyes narrowing at me.

"That would be biking," Sam interrupted, sipping his drink, and leaning against the wall.

"I was working. Have you ever heard of Prosperity Indiana"? Dean asked.

"Has anybody?" I replied, gulping down more of my water.

"Two of their fine citizens died over the past two weeks. Uh. . .this one chick, she roasted under one those beehive hair dryers at a hair salon, and this other guy boiled in his hot tub." Dean sighed, picking up his glass.

"You don't see a lot of that. It's definitely worth checking out," Sam replied, out of breath.

"No you don't," Dean replied, taking another gulp of alcohol.

"You know, one more thing. . .what's going on with you?" Sam intervened. I winced, knowing this was going to start yet another argument.

"We've talked about this Sam," he objected placing his glass back down

"Here we go," I mumbled under my breath, I walked over to my duffle bag and pulling out some clothes.

"No 'cause to do that we have to actually speak," Sam replied, lips pulled into a thin line.

"Okay let me get this straight, see you're new Sam Lance Armstrong—"

"Biking," Sam interrupted.

"And I'm still me. Okay? So you might see things different now, call it a runner's high or some crap, but that doesn't mean something's going on with me," he sighed, placing his hands on his thighs.

"Yeah, okay," Sam replied, walking away.

"No. Don't say 'yeah okay' like, 'Yeah okay'." Dean mocked.

"Yeah okay," Sam sighed out, walking into the motel bathroom.

"Hey! I called dibs on the shower!" I yelled, as he closed the bathroom door.

I threw my pillow at the door and sighed grudgingly. I watched, arms crossed over my chest as Dean picked up his glass then placed it back down on the table, not taking a sip.

After a lot of showering and a lot of Dean rushing everyone, we were on our way to Indiana. It didn't take long of course with Dean's driving. We were only a few hours away. I curled up in the backseat, reading a book, while Dean blasted AC/DC loudly through the speakers. It didn't bother me. Once we arrived, we decided it would be better to split up. Sam got the latest Victims sister, while Dean and I talked the stylist at the salon. Well. . .Dean did most of the talking. I mostly just looked around the crime scene.

Dean began talking to the guy about how high you can set the temperature on the hair dryers. I sighed, and stood in the corner, noticing something shining up at me. It was wedged behind the dryer. I bent down and picked it up, admiring the coin in my hands. Dean looked over at me and I quickly slipped the coin in my pocket, thanking the stylist and leaving with Dean close behind. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his phone dialing Sam's number. I fiddled with the coin in my fingers before he took it out my hands.

"Wait, a coin?" I could hear Sam's voice on the other end.

"Well somebody could've dropped it. Of course they don't have pockets on those robe things they make you wear," Dean replied, flipping the coin in his hands.

I laughed, and I could hear Sam laughing too.

"I didn't realize you were such a spa expert." I grinned, causing Sam to laugh harder and Dean to glare at me.

"Shut up. I observe things... with my eyes" he spat, glaring at me.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you say. So you're thinking it must be some kind of hex talismans," Sam spoke up.

"Maybe." Dean stuck the coin in his back pocket.

"Alright. Pick me up," Sam sighed

"Why don't you just run home Lance?" Dean smirked while I laughed.

"Dean," Sam groaned.

"I'm on my way." Dean hung up, running into a liquor store.

"Oh come on. Really!" I groaned, stomping off after him.

Third person POV

Meanwhile, a guy says goodbye to his friends as they pull out of the construction site in a black truck. He sighs, walking into a portable bathroom, closing the door and unzipping his pants. He hears a nose, similar to that of an air pressurizer. He stands there listening closely, his back turned towards the door.

"Ah come on," he mumbled, turning around. All of sudden the door flies off the hinges. A nail gun is floating in the air connected to the air pressure house.

The nail gun shoots nails at the man rapidly. His groans quickly morphed into shallow deep breaths as he is nailed to the wall of the porta potty. The nail gun pauses, shooting two more nails in the poor guys eyes then drops to the ground. The air pressurizer clicks off, the construction sight growing silent.

Olivia's POV

We pulled up at a construction sight, Dean talking to the sheriff.

"What do we know about the Vic?" Dean's lips pressed in a thin line, his arms firmly at his sides.

"Dewey Stevens. Owner of Dewey Stevens construction in town. He's a blue ribbon pecan pie champ and an asthmatic," the sheriff pipped up. I eyed the man warily, as Dean raised an eyebrow at the sheriff.

"We're a close knit community" he replied again, a deep blush fanning over his cheeks. I chuckled at the sheriff's ignorance.

Dean cleared his throat sticking a hand in his pocket and walking off with the sheriff. I followed close behind.

"So this uh—pillar of the community was taking a leak before he uh—sprung a few." Dean snickered and I smacked him on his shoulder. Dean frowned at me, rubbing the sore spot. I rolled my eyes, my attention focusing on Dewey as we came to a halt in front of the dead man.

"Anything usual besides the nails in his eyes?" Dean muttered, lifting back the tarp that covered Dewey's body.

"Well. . .I'm still trying to figure out where they plugged in the nail gun, seeing as there's no generator on the truck," sheriff replied looking over at me, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Yeah well, when you figure that out let me a know." Dean nodded at the sheriff, a forced smile on his face. The sheriff sent Dean a curt nod, smirking at me again, before walking away. I shook my head at the man. Why did men always think it was okay to send women creepy smiles like that? As if that really did anything for us anyways. I looked back at the porta potty, my brows furrowing as I noticed another coin. I picked it up, showing it to Dean. He sent me a grateful smile, snatching it from my fingers, and stuffing it into his pocket with the other one. I followed behind Dean, as we made our way to over to Sam, who was near the trailers.

"So, another victim everybody likes?" I sighed, sitting down in the empty chair next to Sam. He had his chin resting in one hand, the other gripping the mouse as he looked at Dewey's computer.

"Not everybody," Sam sighed.

"Another physically impossible death, got any ideas?" Dean asked, looking around.

"Cirque Du Soleil," Sam grumbled.

"Oh! I found another one of these, just like a the hair dryer/brain roast," Dean pipped up, showing Sam the coin.

"Hey! I found that both times," I mumbled, snatching the coin from Dean.

"And I found a connection with all the Vics. These emails show Wendy the realtor chick, Carl the architect, and Dewey were all working on a shopping center together," Sam sighed looking up from the computer at Dean.

"Why didn't we know about that?" Dean asked.

"Well it all fell apart for some reason. I mean there are these emails back and forth, pretty hot and heavy and then suddenly they just stopped," Sam mumbled looking at the computer a frown etched into his face.

"So everyone working on this project has died," I chimed in, leaning back in the chair.

"Well not yet. They were working with a developer. . .guy named Dawn Stark," Sam muttered, looking over at me then back to the computer.

"Dawn Stark. Why do I know that name?" I whispered to myself.

We piled back into the car and headed to city hall. Getting out and standing in front of the giant building, we stared at the small statue of Dawn Stark's head.

"Man this Stark guy is really plugged in huh," Sam scoffed, looking around.

"So all the players in this shopping center project have all either been, fried, boiled, or cabobbed, and he could be next." Dean groaned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a flask. He unscrewed the cap.

"Really, a freaking flask. What are you? Bad Santa? We are on the job," Sam replied. I laughed, crossing my arms over my chest. Dean glared at the pair of us, sticking his flask back into his pocket.

"We are always on the job," he muttered.

Sam's phone chimed and he slipped it out of his pocket.

"Alright, Bobby emailed back. I sent him a few pics of the coins you found. He says the writing is Romanian Cyrillic, used only in the mid-fifteenth to mid-nineteenth century. Apparently it's an antique Wallachian Duckett," Sam looked up his phone, then back to the statue.

"So, we're looking for an old Romanian," Dean sighed, raking a hand through his hair

"Is it just me, or is this really weird?" I remarked, looking at the dead plants growing around the statue.

"Huh, I've seen this before. Once the plants were all dead in one spot on a bus bench with Wendy Goodman's picture on it. I mean, I'm no expert, but I don't think plants are supposed to act like this," Dean sighed, looking down at the plants, kicking at the dead brush.

We all piled into the Impala and drove to Dawn Stark's house. Though, honestly it was more like a mansion. This place was enormous. I followed behind Sam and Dean, as Dawn Stark led us into his living room.

"Well, if the bureaus involved, do you guys think all three were murder?" Stark questioned, a glass of scotch clutched in his hand.

"It looks that way, yes." I crossed my arms over my chest as he flashed me a flirtatious smirk, shooting me a wink.

"Now Mr. Stark, you had a relationship with all three victims, correct?" Sam cleared his throat, trying to get Stark back on topic.

"Well I knew them in business circles, sure." Stark took a sip of his drink, his eyes roving over my body, causing me to internally shudder.

"You all were involved in a shopping center project. Why did that fall through? Dean questioned, his eyes narrowed at the man, his lips pulled into a thin line.

My eyes widened, as a perky blonde came rushing through the doorway of Stark's office. She smiled at all of us as she bound over to Mr. Stark.

"Uh-these things happen." Stark's attention diverted from the three of us, as his eyes fell to the blonde girl. "Oh Jenny! These folks are from the FBI. Jenny Cline, my assistant," he gestured toward the blonde that stood next to him.

She had a hanger with an outfit holder attached to it, draped over her shoulder. She muttered a "Hi there," to us, and sighed rambling off a list of stuff she was about to go do.

"Well hurry on back, you know how things fall apart without," Dawn replied.

She stuttered and smiled at his remark. I gagged silently, while Dean only chuckled.

"Oh, I baked you cupcakes. . .coconut!" Jenny smiled at Mr.Stark affectionately.

"You're too good to me Jenny." He smiled back, reciprocating her affection.

"She bakes cupcakes," Dawn stated to us simply.

"Yummy," I mocked sarcastically, causing Sam to swat me on my arm.

I mouthed an ow and rubbed the spot with my hand.

"Can you show me to the restroom? I had a little bit too much Java." Sam smiled at Stark.

"Yeah, around the corner and down the hall." Sam shot him a convincing smile, eyeing me and clearing his throat.

"I'll go with you," I acted terribly, following him out of the room.

I heard Dean continue interrogating Stark, while Sam and I ran upstairs as quietly as possible. We found Stark's bedroom and Sam walked in first, looking around. He saw his bathroom then his closet one half was full with men's clothing and the other half was empty. A brown Stiletto with the heal broken off was on one of the shelves. Sam picked it up examining it. Then he found a necklace with some weird symbol on it and shoe box with rocks and hex materials. Sam showed me a manila envelope and I snatched it from his hands, carefully unsealing it. Inside there were old spell pages. I took half and gave the other half for Sam to look over. We took pictures of everything and put it back neatly, walking back down the stairs and joining the conversation.

"Well success brings tough competition I told you that," Stark muttered loudly.

"Including your wife. Sorry, we heard the two of you are splitting up," Sam apologized.

"Yeah. That's what we heard," Dean cut in.

"Yeah, Maggie and I are going through a tough time. So we decided on separation. . .temporarily. Sometimes you know, we grow apart it's no one's fault". Stark shifted a bit, sitting on the edge of his desk.

"How would you explain the issues that went on with your wife?" I objected, narrowing my eyes at the older man.

"It's just one of those martial misunderstanding, you know?" He replied smoothly, a synthetic smile adorning his face.

"No sorry. I don't." I bit out.

"It's one of those vague hard to define passages," he mumbled, eyeing my demeanor.

"She caught you cheating huh? I couldn't help but notice things were kinda cordial between you and your assistant. Pretty good with ladies there Mr. Stark. It's a blessing and a curse." Dean sent a smirk my way, to which I only scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest.

Stark chuckled, a soft grin on his face he eyed me up and down.

"Guys. . .I'm a people person and I admire dynamic, confident women." He smirked at me

"Admire?" I questioned.

"Okay look. . .it's true I had a recent. . .little thing with a business associate. That's all it was," he mumbled, still eyeing me.

"A thing." Dean bit his lip, eyeing the man questioningly, his gaze turning to Sam.

"Yeah, like a shoe, or a golf club," Sam muttered, leaning against the woodwork.

"Right. Perhaps it was a waffle iron. Look, Dawn wife's usually see affairs more than just a thing," Dean stated bluntly. I could tell he was irritated with Dawn's shameless attempts to flirt with me. I laughed at how sarcastic they were being, quickly covering my hand over my mouth.

"Yeah well. . .she got upset about it said she needed some time off, to think about things," Dawn explained, his eyes finally leaving my body to look at Sam and Dean.

"Well, if we were guessing the business associate to be Wendy Goodman would we win a trip a Maui?" Dean asked.

"Her death had nothing to do with the affair. It was over long before the accident. You're not saying that Maggie had anything to with this, are you?" Dawn asked, walking behind his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"If it was an accident," I whispered, nudging Dean.

"We're just saying you should be careful and maybe take her dinner and apologize," Sam muttered as we walked out.

"We found a bunch of hex junk in his room and the closet looks like the wife isn't coming back anytime soon," Sam grumbled, touching the dead plants that littered the front porch.

"This is kinda like Bewitched, you know. Dawn's daring doesn't even know it, then there's a lot of laughs, then bam! You're dead." Dean smirked, looking at me and Sam.

"A witch reference, really?" I mumbled, eyeing Dean.

"Dude! Nicole Kidman was in the remake. She's hot!" Dean smirked, his eyes glazing over as he got lost in thought.

They continued bantering and I tuned them out as we walked to the car. Dean called Bobby as we headed to our next destination; Maggie's house. Sam opened the hood of the Impala and pretended to be looking under it, while Dean snuck inside. A few moments later Maggie Stark's car pulled up into the driveway. Sam cursed, quickly dialing Dean's number. It didn't work, and we follow Maggie into her driveway as she gets out of her silver Porsche.

"Mrs. Stark! FBI!" I yelled in my most authoritative tone, whipping out my fake FBI badge

"Oh okay. Could you come back in say 30 mins?" she asked, quickly making her way up her porch steps.

"Uhh. . ." Sam's eyes widened, as he looked around.

I bit my lip, smirking, before leaning on the end of the car causing her alarm to go off and hopefully signaling to Dean that she was headed inside. Mrs. Stark rolled her eyes, and clicked the key fob, walking inside. Dean quickly exited as she disappeared inside.

"Spoiler alert! Jenny Cline is next. I swiped this from her witch station, which she will notice is gone," Dean remarked, sliding into the driver's seat of the Impala and speeding off to Jenny's house. We skidded to a stop in her parking lot. Piling out quickly, we ran to her place and I pounded on her door. I could faintly hear the sound of someone choking. Dean kicked open the door and I ran over to Jenny, rubbing her back.

"Find the coin now!" Dean yelled at Sam, helping me move Jenny to a chair.

"Come on Sam!" He hollered.

Sam sifted through all the cabinets haphazardly, and found the coin hidden behind a jar of flour. He grasped the coin and placed it on the counter, as I comforted Jenny who was still choking. He pulled out his gun and I put my head over Jenny's protecting her. Dean put his head over mine a hand on my neck, causing goosebumps appear. I hated how I grew weak whenever he touched me.

Sam shoot the coin and I sat up. Jenny stopped choking, sucking in a lung full of air, blood dripping from her mouth. I helped her over to her couch and she sat down. Dean handed me a napkin and I gave it to her so she could wipe her face.

"There were tiny beating hearts in my cupcakes," she mumbled, shocked from the events that had taken place.

Sam and Dean keeping their distance. She kept repeating the same line over and over again, suddenly screaming.

"Should I slug her?" Dean asked. Sam I glared at him, trying to calm Jenny down.

"Just give her a minute," Sam replied.

She started hyperventilating so I began to rub her back again.

"What just happened?" she yelled at Sam and Dean.

"You were hexed," Sam mumbled, sighing.

"Hexed? Who are you people? What do I do?" She rambled, eyes wide with fear.

"What you do is. . .you pack a bag get in you car and you leave," Dean stated firmly.

"Leave where?" she asked.

"i don't know. 600-700 miles should do it. You got someone who is pissed coming after you, and while your at it, you might was to cool things with Dawn Stark," Sam mentioned, eyeing her with a sense of disappointment.

"Dawn Stark. . .what are you talking about?" she questioned.

"You and Dawn Stark you know..." Dean trailed off.

"Dawn Stark is my boss. That's it. He's married for god sakes. Me and Dawn Stark. . .ewww," she replied making me laugh.

I sighed, as we pulled up at the statue of Dawn Stark again. The Impala's engine rumbled and we all watched in shock as his his statue fell part, crumbling into pieces.

"Okay. . .now she is just getting nasty. First his girlfriend, now his statue," Dean stated, shaking his head.

"She's gonna take the whole town out. She doesn't care who gets in her way," Sam groaned, running a hand over his face.

Dean's phone rang, causing us to all jump out of our stupor. He answered immediately, and I recognized the voice on the other end as Bobby.

"No. I don't need to write it down I can remember. . .a rector-what?" he mumbled, signaling a pen and paper sign to Sam.

I laughed as he told Bobby to hold on.

"Yeah I'll remember," Dean replied, in a high pitch tone, scribbling stuff down quickly.

I laughed hard as we drove back to motel, stopping along the way to get Dean some pie. I rolled my eyes as he stuck his fork into his pie inhaling a huge mouthful. Sam came back from the store, plopping a bag of chicken feet down on the table next to Dean as he unhinged his jaw to take another huge bite of pie. I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the headboard, propping my book up against my legs.

"Dude...pie," Dean chimed cheerfully. "Ohh that is—" Dean sighed sticking his fork full of pie back into his pie.

"Chicken feet, just like the recipe calls for," Sam finished, sitting down on the couch.

"The butcher's fridge is down," Sam continued.

"I can smell that," Dean gagged, covering his nose.

"Uh-says his power is wonky. . .says he will lose all of his months worth of shipment, ditto on the rest of the block nothing but burst pipes and power outages. It's like all of sudden the town ran out of luck." Sam shouted.

"So coincidence, right?" Dean groaned, picking up the bag of chicken feet with two fingers. He walked over to Sam, a gross look on his face and I laughed at how squeamish he was.

"J-just can you take the feet, " he muttered, holding the bag of chicken feet out in front of Sam.

Sam laughed as did I. Sam finished the spell and we all headed to the gallery. There were police cars out front when we arrived. We walked inside and saw blood everywhere and dead body under a white sheet.

"Whoa, cleanup on aisle seven," Dean whispered.

"You don't think she would actually do this to her own show would she?" I questioned, looking at the ghastly sight in front of me.

"No. This had to be someone who hated her guts." Dean replied as we walked back to the Impala

"Dawn," I whispered. "So now we have two witches on the loose. Great," I mumbled, throwing my hands up in the air as Dean and Sam slid into the car. I sunk down into my permanent spot, which was the backseat. We drove off, heading to Dawn's house for a stake out.

"Where is she?" Sam groaned.

"She'll be here. . .they've been throwing thunderbolts at each other's toys. They're basically going to kill each other at this point," Dean replied, clearing his throat.

"Hope so. We are gonna need them both in the same place if we want to take them out," Sam muttered.

As if Dean could tell time, Maggie pulled up, storming inside. We followed close behind Dean with the book that contained the spell. Sam held onto the other parts of the spell. I began stretching my neck. I knew there was going to be a fight breaking out. Maggie stormed into the room, meeting Dawn who was sitting in a chair, smirking. Dean had the bowl with part of the ingredients for the spell and began reciting the spell in latin.

"Furor Divina Virtute IN Infernum Eam Detrude!" Dean yelled as Sam lit a match and threw it into the bowl. A huge cloud of dust came roaring out. Nothing happened and Maggie and Dawn stood there staring at us.

"Let me guess chicken feet. . .not chilled," Maggie quipped.

"For obvious reasons you guys will not be leaving this room. Well you'll be leaving. . . just not alive." Dawn shot a sarcastic smile at me before standing up and reciting a spell with Maggie at us.

"Okay plan B," Sam whispered harshly.

"Whats plan B?" Dean whispered to Sam.

"Talking," Sam spoke so quietly that I could barely hear him.

"Now! Really?" Dean yelled, through gritted teeth.

"This is obviously a domestic dispute so if we can't kill them. . .then we counsel them." Sam whispered back.

"Yeah, I'm not good at that kinda stuff," I whisper yelled back.

"Okay, okay, okay. . .uh—" Sam and Dean both interrupted the pair of witches. They paused their spellcasting.

"Look, obviously you two are capable of wiping each other,but you haven't, huh. . .which means that you two still value what you use to have and you want to keep that dance going. Maybe it's punishment. Maybe it's sick, messed up kinky, erotic, clamps and feathers type of love. . ." Dean trailed off, smirking cheekily as his gaze landed on me.

"Okay, okay. . .that's going way to deep there cowboy. Look, what he's trying to say is that whatever it is you two have—your bonded." I spoke up, walking towards them.

"Are you kidding me? He cheated!" Maggie screeched.

"Look, we aren't saying what Dawn did was right, but when a relationship cracks usually both parties have a hand it," I proclaimed.

"You're defending him!" she yelled, swinging her hand in the air at Sam.

Sam groaned, clutching his stomach and falling to the floor.

"Okay, okay look, nobody can defend Dawn, totally, right? You feel betrayed because you were—"

"Don't suck up to her!" Dawn retaliated, throwing Dean and me into the glass paned door.

I lay there on the ground pinned by Dawn, blood dripping from my head. They started arguing again and Sam Intervened. This only made matters worse. Maggie forced him to the ground with her finger and he groaned. They two continued to argue over past relationships and Dean stood up, confirming some of what Dawn was saying was true. Which then caused Maggie aimed her finger a Dean sending him pinned to the wall. Dawn swung his finger at him, as he continued to swat at the air, sending a swarm of bees in his direction. Dean choked on a bee and Maggie laughed.

"He's right. I couldn't kill you. . .you're all I've ever wanted," Dawn muttered.

"I could never murder you either Dawn. It's crazy....but true," Maggie confessed.

The two started making out and I bolted upright, gagging.

"Somebody want to call these things off. . .excuse me!" Dean yelled, still pinned to the wall, the bees still swarming.

Once we made it back to the motel I flopped down on the bed closest to the door, utterly exhausted. Dean turned on the light and humphed, walking over to his bed and tossing a green duffle bag on it. He pulled out his flask unscrewing the lid and taking a sip.

"Oh, give me a break it's been a long day" Dean yelled angrily, eyeing Sam and I.

"I didn't say anything," Sam replied in surrender, holding his hands up.

"It's not over yet," A raspy voice replied.

Sam and Dean spun around, as I turned over on the bed, sitting up. Dean drew his gun on the bold guy with a scruffy beard

"Hi Sam, Dean, oh you brought company." He smirked at me, his eyes an unusually bright shade of blue.

"Do we know you?" Sam asked, lips pulled into a frown.

"Well I definitely know you. You're the dead guys or. . .you will be in a minute." A sinister smile wormed its way onto his face.

Dean shot him in the chest and black blood started oozing from his wound. We stood there stunned.

"Sorry. You're a bit outmatched." He smirked, sucker punching Dean in the face. I jumped up from my spot on the bed, rushing up to the man, striking a blow to his nose. The man only smirked at me, black blood gushing from his nostrils. My brows furrowed at the man, as backhanded me, sending me flying into the wall. I groaned, attempting to sit up, whimpering. I watched in awe as he hoisted Sam into the air, choking him with one hand and then throwing him to the floor. Suddenly the guy hissed and collapsed to the floor, dead as a doornail and I looked over to the motel door. Dean, Sam and I stood up, panting. My eyes widened as I noticed Dawn standing in the doorway. He must've killed the guy.

"Dawn. . .wow! Thank you. We owe you one," Dean breathed out.

"Good god what is that thing" Dawn asked standing over the dead guy on the floor.

"I guess we should be figuring that out," Sam mumbled, grabbing his arm.

"It's on our to-do list," Dean grunted, his right hand shooting out to steady me as I swayed a bit. I shot him a thankful look, grabbing onto his arm for support. I touched the back of my head, hissing and when I looked down at my fingers, I groaned at seeing blood. Of course I had a head injury.

"You know. . .uh-find a bottomless pit and drop it in there. That spell only last for a few days," Dawn replied sighing and walking past Sam, Dean and I who were still shocked he was there to begin with.

"Uh. . .not that I don't appreciate the help, but what are you even doing here?" I choked out.

"Apparently saving your lives. . .twice." Dawn rolled his eyes and walked over to our beds, pulling coins from underneath all the mattresses. He shoved the coins into his pocket.

"Seriously? Maggie, really?" I moaned, leaning more onto Dean for support, his arm wrapping around my waist, holding me close against him. Even though the predicament didn't warrant it, I couldn't help the blush from rising to my cheeks. I cleared my throat, focusing my eyes on Dawn as we all watched him head for the door.

"Well to be fair, you tried to kill her. You know how she is when she gets a bug up her ass. Gotta love her, right? Okay so. . .bottomless pit. Ciao!" he yelled, disappearing from view.

I rolled my eyes and Dean helped me over to the bed, and I slunk down onto the mattress, sighing in irritation as I pulled out the first aid kit. I grabbed out a cotton ball, and doused it into alcohol. I winced at the pain when I touched it to the back of my head. Dean let out a sigh, walking up to me taking the bottle from my hands.

"Let me do that," he muttered, scooting a chair up in front of me on the bed.

He quickly stitched me up and handed me his flask, while Sam packed up the body and the bags.

"Drink. It will help. Trust me." I nodded, taking a sip of the bourbon.

We walked outside, packing up the car and Dean was on the phone with Bobby, telling him the body was ready for transport. I groaned, sliding into the back, next to the unconscious guy. As Dean slammed the trunk, he and Sam had a quick chat outside the car. I could hear bits and pieces of what they were arguing about. Sam stated the obvious. Dean was hiding something and it was driving him nuts. He asked if they were good and Dean replied that they were.

"Let go ladies!" I yelled from the back and they both piled in, sighing and slamming their doors, before pulling out of the parking lot.

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