They were just about to reach June, right on the cusp of May. Deja sat reclined on one of the boys' beds in the small apartment style hotel room they'd picked to stay in, a newspaper beside her, a can of cherry Dr. Pepper in hand, and several tabs open on the internet on the screen in front of her. Sam and Dean were currently not in their room, as they had gone out to talk to the police and investigate the crime scene for their current job while Deja did some research into the victims. So, she was enjoying the current silence until their inevitable return, continuously trying and failing to find some sort of connection between the two victims.

Things had finally calmed down again among Deja and the Winchesters—she'd finally eased back into her old self, and there wasn't any kind of family drama going on between Sam and Dean, either. They were simply drifting from town to town, cheap motel to cheap motel, until Sam spotted this particular case in the newspapers.

Two brutal murders in locked rooms—that was always worth checking out.

Deja chewed on her bottom lip as she continued to browse through the publicly available information on the most recent victim, a girl named Meredith, her brows furrowed deep in thought. If the research continued to turn up empty like this, she might have to hack into some seriously high-security databases. If that ended up being the case, she'd have to wait until Sam and Dean reappeared, just to be safe.

She'd never had a case that required her to hack into some high class federal database, but from the way Sam and Dean talked, they might have.

Deja heard the lock on the door unlatch and she looked up just in time to see Dean and then Sam walk through the door.

"Hey..." she said with a smile, cleaning up some of her mess and shifting over on the bed in case either of them wanted to take a seat. "I hope you two have found out more than I have, cause I'm drawing blanks in this corner of Chicago."

"Nothing ground-shattering unless you want to hear all the intimate details about the female officer Dean talked to," Sam said with a sigh, tossing the newspaper article they'd taken with them onto the table. Dean rolled his eyes, dropping casually to sit beside Deja on the bed.

"There was some EMF at the apartment, all the doors and windows were in fact locked with the alarm on and nothing out of place, Meredith was torn to pieces, and what they left out of the papers is that her heart was missing. The blood spatter, however, did make a symbol on the floor."

"A symbol?" Deja asked, turning to face him a little more. "Now you're talking my language—what was it?"

"We don't know," Sam said with a sigh, standing in front of the two on the bed.

"Yeah, neither of us have seen it before—we thought you might know something," Dean added, grabbing one of the pages to the newspaper beside Deja and drawing an odd Z like symbol with a circle in the middle, handing it over to her. Deja frowned, studying it for a few long moments.

"Nothing comes to mind instantly...I can start digging around for information on the symbol is someone wants to help me keep looking into Meredith and Ben. I've got nothing linking them so far—nothing of importance on either of them, really, other than another place you can look for...well, anything, at this rate."

"All right, so what's our possible lead?" Sam asked.

"The bar that Meredith worked at," Deja said, gesturing to her screen and pulling open the tab on the bar.

Dean leaned over long enough to see what it looked like before he rose to his feet and clapped his hands together, already moving. "I can check it out—Sam can stay and help with the research stuff."

"I can—I've been cooped up all—" The door shut behind Dean. "—day..."

Deja turned to Sam, shaking her head. "You know...I love seeing Dean this happy and at ease all the time, it's a wonderful change, but dammit, I can't keep up with him."

Sam chuckled. "You'll get used to it."

Deja sighed, glancing back towards the door. "Well...I don't think I want to get used to it—I don't think I'd appreciate it as much, then. I just wish he was in this good of a mood more often."

"Yeah, it is a nice change," Sam said, taking the spot Dean had just vacated beside Deja. "Though things are definitely better when you're around."

Deja paused, looking sidelong at Sam as he shuffled through the newspaper Dean had drawn the symbol on. "What do you mean?"

"We've kind of gotten used to having you around," Sam admitted. "When you left on that hunt, it was...weird, not having you around. Dean's mood definitely dropped, there wasn't nearly as much joking or lighthearted conversation—we both kept looking in the rearview mirror expecting to see Rosanne behind us."

Deja blinked, surprised but deeply touched by the statement. "Oh...well...it felt strange not being with you guys as well. I really missed you two while I was gone. Thanks, Sam," she said, giving the younger Winchester a warm smile and a brief, one armed hug that Sam returned. "Now...why don't we enjoy the silence and see if we can dig up anything faster than Dean can score a girl's phone number, cause we all know that's why he really wants to be at the bar right now."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I don't know if we're that good."

Deja shrugged. "Hey, you never know. C'mon, I'll take the research on this symbol, you pick up digging on the victims. One of you felonious Winchesters might have to hack into some federal databases at this rate, anyway."

"You know, I find it very hard to believe that you have never had to hack into any kind of government database of any kind before on a case."

Deja winked. "A girl has her ways..."

Sam chuckled, shaking his head and stealing her laptop from her while she made a beeline for his to start a fresh hunt for details on the symbol. Sam also pulled out John Winchester's hunting journal, and Deja made a move for her books, just in case either of them had seen it before it and just didn't remember.

After that, silence fell between them, broken only by the click of keys, rustle of papers, and the occasional cough or soft clearing of the throat.

******************************

The music was loud in the bar that Meredith used to work in—though honestly, what bar didn't have loud music—and the place was crowded with lively people. Sam walked in first, being the larger of the two and able to easily clear a path to a table for the both of them. He waved Dean down, and Deja was unsurprised to see that Dean was having what looked to be a flirty conversation with the bartender before he spotted them and excused himself. Deja rolled her eyes, leaning forward with her elbows on the table Sam picked while he took a seat, opening John Winchester's journal so he could pull out the newspaper clippings on their two victims.

Dean checked out about three more girls before he even reached their table, a relaxed smile on his face as he took the seat across from Sam beside Deja. "Well, I talked to the bartender."

Sam didn't look up from the journal. "You get anything?" Now he looked up, fixing Dean with a knowing look. "Besides her number?"

Deja bit back a laugh, unable to help the amused smile slipping across her face as Dean started to defend himself. "Dude, I'm a professional. I'm offended that you would think that."

Sam only stared at Dean with a look that let Dean know he didn't believe a word that was coming out of Dean's mouth. Finally, Dean gave up, a wide grin appearing on his face as he held up the napkin he was working between his fingers. "All right, yeah..."

Sam sighed, nodding once before he moved into the responsible sibling role. "You mind doing a little bit of thinking with your upstairs brain, Dean?"

"Huh?" Dean asked, brows furrowed in confusion for a moment. Deja snorted, unable to hold all of her laughter in.

"Wow..." she said with a roll of her eyes, and Dean quickly turned defensive now that Deja and Sam seemed to be on the same team against him.

"There's nothing to find out! Meredith worked here, she waited tables, everyone here's her friends, everybody says she's normal, she didn't do or say anything weird before she died. So..." Dean gave a small shrug, and Deja took the brief silence to remind herself that Dean had his own...unique way of gathering information. Though she couldn't really say unique if she'd been a little flirty socialite herself to get information before. "What about that symbol, did either of you find anything?"

Deja groaned, and Sam shook his head slightly. "Nope, nothing. There wasn't anything in Dad's journal or in the usual books. I'll just have to dig a little deeper, I guess," Sam said, gaze roaming the room for a few seconds.

"What about the victims?" Dean asked, drawing Sam's attention again.

"Still nada," Deja chipped in with a shake of her head. "We kept digging around for a connection, but still nothing so far."

"Ben was a banker, Meredith was a waitress. They never met, didn't know anyone in common, they were practically from different worlds," Sam said with a small, frustrated frown.

"So, to recap, the only successful intel we've scored so far is the bartender's phone number," Dean returned, giving them both a cheeky smile.

"Doesn't have to do with the case, so...not even that," Deja returned with a playful smile of her own.

Dean was going to respond, most likely with some sort of sarcastic or witty comeback, but Sam had become fixated on something over Dean's shoulder. "What?"

Sam ignored him, rising from his seat and starting to walk away without any explanation, leaving a confused Dean and Deja still sitting at the table.

"Sam?" Dean asked again.

"I don't think he's listening, but something's got his attention," Deja said, pulling slightly on his arm to get him to stand up and move with her as she followed after Sam. The younger Winchester weaved his way through the crowd until he finally reached a table on the other side of the bar, his large stature hiding whoever it was from view as he touched their shoulder. As Deja drew closer, she heard a female voice speak up, and she angled herself to see a petite blonde woman grinning up at Dean's brother.

"Sam! Is that you? Oh my God!" The woman gave Sam a tight hug—which was kind of comical to Deja considering how tiny she was and how large Sam was simply in height—as Deja and Dean finally reached the pair, standing awkwardly off to the side as she pulled back to get a good look at Sam. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm just in town, visiting friends," Sam answered, clearly surprised to see this woman.

The little blonde woman looked around expectantly, gaze going right over Deja and Dean, who stood just behind Sam watching the conversation. "Where are they?"

Standing right in front of you, perhaps, Deja thought, sharing a glance with Dean, who seemed to feel just as out of place as Deja was at the moment.

"Well they're not here, right now, but I...what about you, Meg, I thought you were going to California?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I did—I came, I saw, I conquered," the woman, Meg, replied.

Veni, vidi, vici, Julius Caesar, Deja's mind automatically filled in.

"Oh, and I met what's his name—something Michael Murry? At a bar," Meg added.

"Who?" Sam asked.

No idea.

"Oh, it doesn't matter," Meg said dismissively. "Anyway, the whole scene got old, so I'm living here for a while."

Dean cleared his throat quietly in an attempt to remind Sam of their presence, and Meg's expression twitched just slightly towards annoyance, but she kept her gaze on Sam.

Ah...so you do see our presence, your highness, nice to know you're simply ignoring us, Deja thought, tilting her head slightly to the side as she studied Meg a little closer.

Sam wasn't fazed, which only made Dean and Deja feel even more awkward. "You're from Chicago?" Sam asked her.

"No, Massachusetts—Andover," Meg said with a small nod.

Andover...I know exactly where that is.

"Gosh, Sam...what are the odds we'd run into each other?"

"Yeah, I know, I thought we'd never see each other again!" Sam replied with a small laugh.

"Well, I'm glad you were wrong," Meg said with a small smile. The awkwardness seemed to skyrocket with her flirty tone, and Dean looked down, clearing his throat a little louder this time.

Meg instantly scowled at him, the pleasant roaming traveler look disappearing in a heartbeat. "Dude—cover your mouth."

Nope, I don't like you—definitely a bitch in disguise. I've met enough of your kind to know, Deja thought with the only outward sign of her inner dialogue being a slight tightening of her jaw. Dean was taken aback but quickly brushed it off as Sam finally remembered the existence of his brother and Deja.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Meg. This is my friend Deja, and my brother Dean," Sam finally introduced them.

Meg's gaze instantly locked onto Dean, mouth opening slightly in surprise. "This is Dean?" she asked to clarify.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed.

Dean got his signature playful, sly smirk that was rapidly turning into a grin—it even made Deja smile. "So you've heard of me."

"Oh yeah, I've heard of you," Meg said sweetly, though Deja's smile quickly vanished at the forced, false feel her tone had. A spark of tension ignited within the group, but it seemed the boys were oblivious that something was about to happen.

"Nice—the way you treat your brother like luggage."

Dean's smile vanished, shock flickering across his face as he leaned back at the harshness in her tone. "Sorry?"

Bitch, stop right there.

She didn't stop.

"Why don't you let him do what he wants to—" Meg started to rip into him, voice rising in hostility and irritation. Deja took a small step forward, placing herself partially between Meg and Dean and forcing Meg to look at her as Deja cut her off.

"Why don't you stop talking about things you don't understand like an uneducated stuck-up snob, Pixie."

Meg turned her gaze on Deja, her expression incredulous. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Deja said calmly, holding her gaze.

"Bitch."

"Look who's talking—You don't even know him, so why don't you back the hell off and mind your own damn business."

"Sad he needs a pithy attack dog to hide behind. Do you always fight his battles for him?"

"Do you always hide your cold-hearted bitch persona behind a sweet smile to lure in good guys and wreck them? Cause that must get pretty exhausting."

"Okay, that's enough," Sam cut in before Meg could reply, stepping between the two blondes and physically forcing Deja a few steps back away from Meg. She hadn't realized how close they got to each other—they'd probably been on the edge of their verbal spat turning into blows.

Before Sam could reproach her for her behavior, Deja and Meg exchanged dirty looks one more time before Deja spun on her heel and started to walk away without looking at either of the boys. "I'm gonna get a drink."

Deja had just tipped back a straight shot of whiskey when she was joined by Dean himself. She knew because the musky scent mixed with motor oil, gunpowder, and cheap but still nice smelling cologne wafted towards her, especially since he was leaning in to speak.

"So...mind telling me what that was?" Dean asked in a low voice, serious gaze leveled on her when she turned to face him, setting the now empty shot glass back down on the counter.

"I don't like bitchy people—that pixie is a bitch," Deja responded, resisting the urge to angrily jab her finger in Meg's direction. The bartender came over to refill her shot, an angry scowl on her face as she registered Dean leaning so close to Deja. Deja held up a hand in a gesture of peace, giving the other woman a pleasant smile. "Don't worry, I'm not stealing him—we're friends and this other guy isn't leaving me alone, so he's just playing the boyfriend for me so the guy goes away. You're...whatever is still on."

The girl's anger melted away, and she gave Deja a pleasant smile as she filled her shot glass. "I get that, you're fine. And you I hope to get a call from later," she added to Dean, who gave her a brief but still flirty smile before turning his attention back to Deja, expression serious again.

"Really, Deja, what was that? You didn't need to jump down her throat, not for me," Dean said quietly.

"She touched a nerve," Deja said simply, finger tracing the rim of the now full shot glass.

"She wasn't even talking to you, or even about you."

"I couldn't care less what the stuck-up pixie thinks of me, Dean," Deja said coolly, turning to face him once again, his intense green eyes locking onto her turquoise ones. He leaned back slightly at what her words implied—Meg attacking Dean had been what touched a nerve.

"I don't need you to fight my battles for me, Deja," Dean said steadily.

Ah, so that jab from Meg had touched a nerve with him.

"I'm not. I jumped in because...well, you weren't going to rip her a new one, you're too much of a gentleman. On top of that...you've been so happy recently, it's refreshing—it's needed—and her ripping into you like that out of left field didn't sit well with me. You don't need that crap, especially from people who don't even know what they're talking about. So yes, I jumped in, not because I was trying to fight your battle for you but because it pissed me off when she attacked you like that and she doesn't even know you."

Dean was quiet for a moment, studying her closely as she threw back another shot. "I didn't know you cared so much."

"You know, that isn't the first time you've said that. Should I be worried you seem to think I care so little?" Deja asked, facing Dean fully. "When have I ever given you the impression that I don't care, Dean?"

"You haven't, it's just..." Dean trailed off, unable to find the right words for what he was trying to say, gaze still locked with hers. After a few moments of silence, Deja nodded slowly.

"Got it. Well...I do care—about you and Sam. Just in case there was any confusion over the matter."

"Right..." Dean returned, finally looking away, gaze lingering briefly where Sam and Meg were still talking. "Y'know, as unexpected as it was...it was pretty hot," Dean admitted, leaning forward on the bar and looking at her side-on.

"Why Dean, are you flirting? Don't let your potential score hear you say that."

"I dunno...is it finally working?" Dean asked, leaning in a little more. Deja chuckled under her breath, shaking her head and pushing away from the counter.

"I'll get back to you on that—be a dear and cover those drinks, it might up your chances. I'll be in my car when you two are ready to go," she said, patting his shoulder blade as she passed by and heading out the door.

******************************

When Dean and Sam emerged from the bar not long after Deja, she was surprised to discover they were going to be splitting up. Sam took the Impala to keep an eye on Meg, as apparently he had some suspicions that she might have something to do with whatever was going on here in Chicago, while Dean and Deja drove back to the hotel in Rosanne to continue looking into the symbol, links between the victims, and now apparently see if Meg Masters was an actual person, as requested by Sam. Dean thought looking into her was a waste of time, but Deja thought it was worth a look.

But she might have been a little biased in that opinion.

"Where is Andover, even? I haven't heard of it..." Dean murmured as he stared at the laptop in front of him, papers strewn out around him and a journal of his own Deja hadn't known he possessed open in front of him with a few scribbled notes on the pages that were open, notes about the symbol. Dean had called some people and finally scored with some guy called Caleb

Deja didn't look up from where she sat on—apparently—Dean's bed, scrolling through more information on their victims, her answer coming out in a distracted tone. "It's roughly thirty minutes north east of Salem, thirty-five minutes north of Arlington. Or, since it's a better known city, thirty...two minutes north of Boston."

The room grew quiet enough to hear a pin drop, and Deja looked up from her spot to see Dean turned around in his seat and staring at her in shock and confusion. "How the hell do you know that?"

"I'm...from Massachusetts—spent most of my early life there, despite the fact we moved around a lot. I know the state," she said evasively. A small smile pulled the corner of her lips upwards. "Fun fact, there is a Winchester, Massachusetts that I believe is between Arlington and Andover."

"No kidding," Dean said slowly, watching her for a few more minutes as she returned to digging up information on Meredith and Ben and he probably filed the new information on her past away. Soon enough she heard the click of keys coming from his direction again, and she smiled slightly to herself, keeping her attention on the work in front of her instead of the man off to her side whose bed she was borrowing.

After a lengthy silence, Dean reached for his phone, a movement Deja caught out of the corner of her eyes. "Find something on Meg?"

"Yup—she's clean," Dean said, punching in Sam's number into his phone.

"Damn...well, she's still a bitch," Deja muttered, earning a brief look from Dean before Sam apparently answered the phone, Dean's attention shifting away from her.

"Let me guess—you're lurking outside that poor girl's apartment, aren't you?"

There was a long silence, a small smirk growing on Dean's face—Sam must have been trying to deny it.

"You've got a funny way of showing your affection," Dean eventually replied, shaking his head. He paused, and then, "Sorry, man, she checks out—there's a Meg Masters in the Andover phonebook. I even pulled up her high school photo. Now look, why don't you go knock on her door, and, uh...invite her to a poetry reading, or whatever it is you do. Huh?"

There was another long silence, and Dean shook his head before turning his attention to his notes in his journal. "Yeah, that I did have some luck with. It's, uh...turns out it's Zoroastrian. Very, very old school, like, 2000 years before Christ. It's a sigil for a daeva."

"Put him on speaker," Deja said softly, coming over to stand beside Dean with a hand on the back of his chair. Dean spared her a glance, doing as she asked so Sam's voice reached her as well halfway through his question.

"—a daeva?"

"A nasty, invisible SOB," Deja replied.

"Pretty much. Translates to demon of darkness—Zoroastrian demons, and they're savage, animalistic, nasty attitudes. Kind of like demonic pit bulls."

"How did you figure that out—was it Deja?"

Dean held up a warning finger as he answered, obviously telling Deja not to spoil his moment of victory. "Give me some credit, man. You don't have a corner on paper chasing around here."

"Oh yeah? Name the last book you read."

Dean opened his mouth to reply, paused, considered the question, then decided he'd already lost with how long he was taking to respond, blatantly ignoring the fact that Deja had to bite down on her knuckles to keep from laughing out loud.

"Ah, I called Dad's friend Caleb. He told me, all right?"

"Yeah," Sam laughed, and Dean rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Anyway, here's the thing, these, uh, these daevas, they have to be summoned. Conjured."

"So, someone's controlling it?" Sam asked.

"Bingo—someone's dabbling in the dark stuff again," Deja said with a sigh.

"That's what I'm saying," Dean said, only a hint of annoyance leaking into his tone. "And, ah, from what I gather, it's pretty risky business, too. I mean, these suckers tend to bite the hand that feeds them...and the arms...and the torsos..."

"I think he gets the picture, Dean," Deja said patiently.

"So what do they look like?"

"Well, nobody knows, no one's seen them for a couple of millennia. Summoning a demon that ancient—someone really knows their stuff. I think we've got a major player in town."

"Which means be careful," she stressed, her warning not only for Sam, but Dean too.

He simply waved away her concern.

Well, sorry Mr. Macho.

"Now why don't you go give that girl a private strip-o-gram?" Dean asked, jarring Deja back to reality. She punched his arm lightly—since Sam wasn't here to do it.

"Dean! Seriously?" she said in exasperation while Dean simply chuckled unapologetically.

"Bite me," Sam returned, and she could practically hear him scowling.

"No, bite her! Don't leave teeth marks, though—" Dean started to tell Sam, but Deja shoved him lightly, leaning closer to the phone.

"No! Sam, don't bite her, run in the opposite direction! Trust my womanly bitch radar!"

Dean gave her a look, like she'd just grown three heads or tried to turn him into a platypus. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Deja jabbed a finger at Dean, shooting him a glare. "You shut up, you're giving him terrible advice right now."

"I'm giving him amazing advice, thank you—Sammy wants to hook up with a girl, I can prod him in the right direction."

"Not towards that girl! Us woman have a way of spotting a rotten apple of our own kind, and she...is a rotten crab apple." Deja briefly glanced back towards the phone. "Sam, do not bite that apple!"

"That is a terrible metaphor," Dean scoffed. Deja rolled her eyes.

"Just run the other way Sam, just—" She paused, realizing that the counter on the call wasn't there, and it seemed the call had been ended for quite some time. "I think he hung up on us..."

"You mean you," Dean scolded her, putting the phone away.

"No, us, plural, you are not escaping blame on this," Deja scolded him, rolling her eyes as she returned to his bed. "Are you always horny as hell when you're in a good mood?"

Dean stood up with a grin, approaching where she sat on the bed. "It's a golden opportunity..." he said suggestively.

Deja resisted the urge to squirm but did cross her legs, not liking the advance even though she knew Dean wouldn't try anything without permission. "Again, I'll have to decline your tempting offer."

Dean sighed softly, the sound coming out in a huff as he continued walking right past her towards the kitchen. "You're missing out."

"I think I'll survive," Deja returned, relieved that they were still in familiar territory where they flirted and sometimes made some suggestive comments but it never went anywhere. Now she was comfortable again. "Besides, I'd hate to steal you from that bartender."

The fridge closed, and Dean let out a soft oo as he opened his beer. "Thanks for reminding me—I'll have to call her when we're done for tonight."

Deja groaned lightly. "I'll have to remember to retreat to my room when we're done, then. Or maybe further—maybe I'll go back to the bar."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, sounding offended.

"I don't want to see it, I don't want to hear it," Deja said with a shake of her head, pulling her laptop back towards her.

"You could always join in..."

"Um...no. And I don't think the bartender would approve either considering the dirty look she gave me when she thought you were trying to score with me, too, earlier," Deja murmured, keeping her gaze focused on the screen.

"Suit yourself."

"Whatever—now, can we get back to work? All we've got to do is find something to connect the victims, and we'll probably be done for the night," Deja said pointedly.

Dean chuckled, returning to his seat at the desk. "You really know how to motivate a guy, don't you?"

Deja snorted softly. "Sure, let's go with that."

Their quiet typing and clicking resumed, no more words thrown out between them to break the comfortable silence as they both focused on finishing for the night. At least until their was a knock on the door and Dean got up with a sly grin.

"Who's that?" Deja asked, since he obviously seemed to know, and if it was Sam he would have just walked right in—he had a key.

"That would be Amy."

"Amy?" A look of exasperation crossed her face as she tried to scooch out of sight of the door. He must have texted her, cause Dean hadn't made any calls to an Amy while she was in the room. "Really? You're not even going to give me a chance to escape before the bartender gets here?"

"No, not the bartender, the perky officer of the law that was very helpful when we were investigating earlier."

Deja blinked. The way he said that...

Deja stayed out of sight of the door while Dean chatted flirtatiously but briefly with Amy, looking quietly in his direction until he'd come around the corner with two files in hand.

"Really, Dean? Playing too women at once?"

Dean gave her a wounded look. "I'm not playing two women. For one, I already spent my one night with Amy, and two, I still haven't called the bartender."

Deja nodded slowly, looking away. "Right..."

And this, right here, is why I won't sleep with you. You go through women like a change of clothes, and I don't want to just be the shirt of the day for anyone, not even for you. It'd just be another night, another woman, maybe you'll remember, maybe with time it'll fade away...but you don't double-dip, and it won't have any meaning.

I want a connection. I want something that will happen more than just one random night. I want it to mean something.

Dean was watching her warily, like he knew he'd done something wrong but he didn't know what that something was. "Hey...you all right?"

Deja furrowed her brow in confusion as she looked back at him, pulling herself from her thoughts. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine—why did Amy drop by?" she asked, nodding to the files in his hands.

"Oh, right. Earlier today I asked her to pull the victim's complete records to try and save us some time—even get some access to some little-known information. She came through," Dean said, waving the files slightly as he returned to his seat by the desk. Her brief moment of solemn contemplation didn't seem to have slipped his notice, however, as she caught him still watching her closely out of the corner of his eyes, a puzzled light within his green gaze. She pretended not to notice and remained calm.

"Well then, by all means, search away. I'll keep browsing through the internet until one of us finds something," she said with a sigh as Dean flipped open the files. She hadn't even finished a paragraph of her own reading before Dean let out a sudden, soft curse. She instantly looked back up at him, noticing that he was staring at the files with concern written all over his expression. "Dean? What is it?"

"I found our connection," he said quietly, getting up and moving over to the bed again to lay the files out in front of both of them. He placed a finger under the place of birth on one of the files so Deja could see exactly what he meant.

"Lawrence, Kansas—they were both born in the same town, then?" she asked, looking at the other file to confirm it.

"Mhm..." Dean confirmed, eyebrows still furrowed with worry. Deja paused, studying him for a few moments.

"You're reacting to this like it's more than just finally finding the connection...Dean, what am I missing here?"

Dean looked up, the worry creasing between his brows, mouth slightly parted like he was on the edge of answering a question, a far-away look in his eyes that was gradually fading as he came back to reality at her carefully spoken question. "Um...Sam and I...we're from Lawrence," Dean finally answered as he met her gaze.

Now it was Deja's turn to look concerned. "Do you think whoever's controlling these daeva's wants you here?"

"I don't know...I don't see why they would."

"It's a possibility," Deja murmured, looking down at the files again. "Let's just...wait till Sam gets back, we'll tell him what we found, and we'll go from there. Three heads put together is better than two."

"Yeah, I guess...who knows when he'll be done stalking little Meg, though."

"Well, he thinks there's something going on with the Pixie. I think there's something wrong with her myself, so I don't mind—as long as we're not sitting on this new information too long."

"Pixie. You're really going to stick with that?" Dean asked, eyebrow cocked upwards. Deja smiled slightly.

"Yeah, I think I will—I like it."

"Whatever...to each his own."

*****************************

It wasn't long before the door to the apartment opened, and Deja and Dean came around the corner just as Sam rushed inside, hardly remembering the shut the door behind him.

"Dude, I've got to talk to you!" the brother's said at the same time. Several odd looks were exchanged before Deja decided to mediate.

"Sam first—you look like you ran here instead of drove," she commented, taking in his disheveled nature.

"Yeah, well...I definitely found something," Sam said before launching into his story of following Meg to a warehouse. He talked about climbing up the elevator shaft to spy on her, how she'd had an alter with human hearts, their daeva symbol, and all sorts of other heavy duty black ritual stuff there. Also, how she'd spoken to someone through a goblet of blood.

Dean made another lap in his pacing, turning to Sam.

"So, hot little Meg is summoning the daeva."

"It looks like she was using that black alter to control the thing," Sam confirmed. Deja snorted softly

"Told you she was bad news..." she muttered under her breath. Her comment was largely ignored.

"So, Sammy's got a thing for the bad girl," Dean teased lightly, chuckling under his breath as Sam rolled his eyes before falling back into seriousness. "Now, what's the deal with that bowl, again?"

"She was talking into it, the way witches use to scry into crystal balls or animal entrails. She was communicating with someone."

Deja shuddered. "Uhg, animal entrails...I never understood that. Why not stick with the crystal balls and mirrors, why get into the nasty stuff like that?"

"Who was she communicating with, the daeva?" Dean asked, steering them back on point.

"No, you said those things were savages. No, this was someone different—someone who's giving her orders. Someone...who's coming to that warehouse."

Dean's gaze drifted from Sam over to the files on Ben and Meredith that sat on the desk, which drew Deja's attention as well. Quickly, Dean made his way over to the desk, sitting down and flipping open the files to stare at the places of birth once more before he looked up at Sam once more, his expression serious and somewhat shocked.

"Holy crap..."

"What?" Sam asked. Deja simply waited for Dean's answer as Dean glanced between Sam and Deja.

"What we were going to tell you earlier. I, uh...I pulled a favor with my..." Dean cleared his throat, "friend, Amy, over at the police department. The complete records of the two victims. We missed something the first time."

Sam came over to stand beside Dean, leaning against the desk while Deja remained on the bed, watching the two brothers in silence. "What?"

"The, ah, the first victim, the old man? Spent his whole life in Chicago, but he wasn't born here—look where he was born," Dean said, handing the file over to Sam. Sam stared at the file before speaking in a soft voice.

"Lawrence, Kansas."

"Mhm, and Meredith, the second victim...turns out she was adopted, and guess where she's from?" Dean added seriously, handing the second file over.

Slowly, Sam took a seat across from Dean as that settled in, staring at nothing in particular. "Holy crap."

"Yeah."

"I mean...it is where the demon killed mom. It's where everything started," Sam said, still sounded a little distracted. With that, Deja finally caught up with the line of thought she hadn't been privy to since she didn't know that much about the boys' hunting origin story.

Holy crap, indeed. This could end up being the hunt for them.

"So you think Meg's tied up with the demon?" Sam asked, leaning across the table towards Dean.

"I think it's a definite possibility," Dean replied seriously.

"But I don't understand, what's the significance with Lawrence? And how do these daeva things fit in?" Sam asked, voice picking up speed as well as urgency.

"Beats me, but I say we trash that black alter, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation."

"No, we can't. We shouldn't tip her off," Sam said, bringing a logical viewpoint to the situation to balance out Dean's go in guns blazing attitude. "We gotta stake out that warehouse, we gotta see who—or what—is showing up to meet her."

"I'll tell you one thing...I don't think we should do this alone," Dean returned, holding Sam's gaze.

John.

Hopefully this time he'll actually answer his sons.

Deja rose from her seat, popping her shoulder as she did so. "Dean, if you want to...you can go ahead and call him. Sam and I will start packing up what we might need," she told them.

"Yeah, let's do that," Dean replied, tucking the files away as they all rose to their feet, Deja and Sam leaving the room to go through the weapons in the Stingray's and the Impala's trunks. They kept the weapons separate so they didn't get each other's equipment mixed up, Sam and Dean's stuff in two of their green duffel bags, Deja's in one of her black duffels. Once they'd grabbed everything they could possibly need, they made their way back up the stairs, stepping back through the door as Dean was finishing up his attempt to contact John Winchester.

"We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh...this warehouse, it's 1435 West Eerie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can," Dean finished softly before clicking the phone closed, back still turned to Deja and Sam.

"Voicemail?" Sam asked as he approached one bed, Deja headed for the other.

"Yeah." Dean turned when he heard the heavy duffel Sam had shoved everything in for now hit the bed, turning around to see the bulging bag and the temporarily empty one next to it. "Jeez, what'd you get?"

"We ransacked the trunks. Holy water, every weapon that we could think of, exorcism rituals from about half a dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect, so I guess we should just expect everything, huh?"

Dean smiled slightly, pulling out three books and tossing them aside before he pulled out one of the sawed off shotguns, effortlessly starting the routine check of weapons before a hunt. On the other bed, Deja was doing the same with her weapons, loading the shotguns with salt rounds, checking her handguns to make sure they were full, the whole nine yards. For several minutes, the only sound that penetrated the silence was the click and shink of weapons being checked and prepped.

"Big night," Dean eventually commented, glancing at Sam.

"Yeah...nervous?" Sam asked, looking at Dean out of the corner of his eyes.

"No...no," Dean said dismissively, keeping his gaze down on the weapons in his hands before he peeked back up at Sam. "Why, are you?"

"No. No way," Sam returned, voice just as quiet as Dean's.

"Don't even bother asking," Deja added before either of them could turn to her, setting a container of holy water aside before moving on through her routine.

It was silent again for a few seconds before being broken once more, this time by Sam. "God, could you imagine if we actually found that damn thing? That demon?"

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves, all right?" Dean laughed, though there wasn't much humor in the sound.

"Well, I know, I'm just saying...what if we did? What if this whole thing was over tonight? Man, I'd sleep for a month," Sam said wishfully, both of the boys staring off into the distance while Deja watched them silently from the bed she was stationed at before Sam turned his gaze back to their weapons. "Go back to school, just...be a person again."

Dean paused in what he was doing, staring at whatever was in his hands for a few long seconds before he looked back up at Sam, doubt and concern flickering across his face.

Sam wanted to leave?

Deja kept her gaze on Dean, a worried frown falling across her lips. She remembered how Dean had been when Sam left briefly last time. That look was starting to return to his eyes.

"You want to go back to school?" Dean asked, still staring at Sam.

"Yeah, once we're done hunting the thing," Sam said casually, oblivious to his brother's reaction.

"Huh..." Dean said distantly, and the emotional wall he seemed to slam up was so obvious everyone in the room noticed it, Sam included.

However, Sam seemed to still be oblivious to the why.

"Why, is there something wrong with that?" Sam asked.

Damn...there's more family drama coming, and I can't escape without causing more of a scene. Looks like I'm just going to sit here quietly and hope that they forget I'm here until it's over.

"No, no, it's, ah...it's great, good for you," Dean replied evenly, hardly looking at Sam and keeping his eyes on the knife he was getting ready to strap to his arm.

Sam stared at Dean, still trying to figure out what was wrong. Was it really that hard to spot? Why did Deja see what was wrong, but Sam didn't? Was it because she'd seen Dean when Sam was gone or missing and knew how much he cared for his brother, how much he wanted him around? Was it because she'd been around when Sam wasn't, was it that kind of special insight?

"I mean...what are you going to do when it's all over?" Sam asked, and Dean's reaction was crisp and instant.

"It's never going to be over. There's going to be others. There's always going to be something to hunt," Dean returned, the grit in his voice a clear sign he was trying to hold back what was eating at him. Sam pushed a little more, however, and finally got his answer.

"But there's got to be something that you want for yourself..." Sam started to say, and Dean finally snapped at him, voice sharp and angry as he cut Sam off.

"Yeah, I don't want you to leave the second this thing's over, Sam!"

Sam stared at Dean as he moved away, putting his back to Sam and facing the dresser.

Yup, Deja had been forgotten, and she wasn't about to complain. She was just going to sit there quietly and perfectly still, blending into the background until it was over.

"Dude...what's your problem?"

Dean stood there for a few moments, the silence deafening, before he let out a soft, humorless laugh, shoulders slumping as he put his hands on either side of the dresser, head bowed. He stayed like that for several seconds before he finally turned back to Sam, and Deja saw a return of the vulnerability Dean Winchester rarely let show.

"Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? Why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place?" Dean asked quietly, a slight tremble to some of the words he spoke with a gruffer voice.

"Cause Dad was in trouble...cause you wanted to find the thing that killed mom..." Sam said softly, thrown off by the sudden emotion that Dean was showing.

Dean was only further upset by the fact that Sam didn't realize, that all he saw was the technicalities, his usual devil-may-care mask flaking a little more as he turned away towards the dresser again, voice louder but with even more repressed emotions leaking through. "Yes, that, but it's more than that, man!"

Dean took a few more heartbeats to regather his composure enough to continue, Sam staring at his brother's back as he waited for Dean to tell him what was wrong.

Dean pushed away from the dresser, approaching Sam once more and this time facing him head on. "Y...You, and me...and Dad...I mean, I want us to...I want us to be together again!" Dean paused as that sank in, a slight shine to his eyes. "I want us to be a family again."

"Dean...we are a family," Sam said softly, meeting his brother's gaze. "I'd do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before."

Dean searched Sam's gaze, and Deja could almost envision him holding onto this ideal of family he wanted to be reality again.

God knew she'd held tight to her own concept of family, despite the fact it had been over a decade since she'd had one, broken as it had been at the time.

"Could be," Dean eventually said, the quiet hope in his voice piercing Deja more than the other emotions he'd exhibited in this brief show of vulnerability.

Sam nodded slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was steady, at a normal volume. "I don't want them to be. I'm not going to live this life forever." Dean looked away, almost like he knew that his hope for before was about to die. Deja wondered if he'd manage to keep it alive a little longer. "Dean, when this is all over...you're going to have to let me go my own way."

Dean finally looked back up at Sam, muffled hurt flickering in his gaze as he forced his composure back to how he usually was, but Deja could still see the clear message in Dean's eyes.

I don't want to see you leave again.