Dean drove with such fury that several times when they went over a hill, no matter how small it was, Deja saw all four wheels leave the pavement and the Impala was airborne for a few seconds before it hit the ground again. This flight to safety was even more intense than when they left Chicago, and for a while, it didn't seem Dean had any direction in mind other than away.

Then, suddenly, the Impala picked up speed, and every turn—sometimes a sharp ninety degree turn that made Deja feel like she was in danger of flipping her car—seemed filled with purpose and direction.

He'd thought of a safe place to go.

At least that's what Deja gathered with Dean's sudden purposeful driving.

They didn't stop, driving all through the night until Dean suddenly started leading them through backroads one after another when, finally, he started to slow, and sometime in the morning they pulled into an auto salvage yard, past rows and rows of cars and a few barns and sheds, until Dean came to a complete stop next to a faded blue two-story house.

Deja parked right behind Dean, running a hand through her hair as she got out and wondering what his game plan was considering if he came up with a plan while driving, she wasn't privy to it since she was driving a separate car. A dog started barking, drawing her attention to a Rottweiler chained to a tree and laying down on a blue truck. Not long after the dog started barking, it's owner stepped onto the porch, a double barrel shotgun in hand.

"Who are you, and what the hell are you doin on my property?" The man barked, shotgun pointed at Deja. She put her hands up on instinct, knowing reaching for her gun would only cause him to pump her full of shotgun shells. Not to mention, she was assuming he was most likely the reason Dean had led them here.

"Whoa, whoa, Bobby, no need for Ole Faithful, she's with us!" Dean said quickly, coming into Bobby's line of vision to stand next to Deja, Sam a step behind him. Bobby lowered the shotgun just slightly.

"Dean? Sam? What're you boys doin here?" Bobby asked, surprise and worry falling across his face. Dean let out a long sigh.

"Bobby, we need your help."

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

It took a little longer than Deja would have liked for them to explain to Bobby what was going on, and Dean glossed over explaining who Deja was as well in order to save time, because all of them expected the demon to track them down sooner or later, and they needed to be prepared, they needed to have some sort of plan ready for whenever they were found. Thankfully, after the Reader's Digest version of Deja's introduction and a quick explanation of what was going on, they managed to do just that with Bobby's help, and it didn't even involve the colt.

Every bullet mattered with the colt, and they only had a few left. They had other options they could go through before resulting to the gun.

Currently, Sam was enlightening himself with some demon lore in one of Bobby's books while Dean and Deja sort of lingered, Deja already knowing what she needed to about demons and Dean waiting for Sam to finish so he could get the simpler explanation without muddling through all the technical stuff. Bobby came around the corner, two small silver flasks in hand, and handed one to Dean.

"Here you go."

"What is this, holy water?" Dean asked, inspecting the flask.

"That one is. This is whiskey," Bobby said, screwing the top off the flask in his hand and taking a drink before he offered it to Dean, who didn't even hesitate to take a drink of his own.

"Bobby, thanks. Thanks for everything. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure if we should come," Dean said, handing the flask of whiskey back to Bobby.

"Nonsense—your daddy needs help," the veteran hunter scoffed.

"Well, yeah, but last time we saw you, I mean, you did threaten to blast him full of buckshot. You cocked the shotgun and everything."

Hmm, well, glad to know I'm not the only one, Deja thought in amusement, silently watching the veteran hunter and Dean talking from her spot by the door to the library.

Bobby let out a long sigh. "Yeah, well, what can I say? John just has that effect on people."

That he does.

Dean gave Bobby a slightly bittersweet smile. "Yeah, I guess he does."

"None of that matters now. All that matters is that you get him back," Bobby said seriously. Suddenly, Sam spoke up from where he sat at one of the many desks in Bobby's house.

"Bobby, this book...I've never seen anything like it," he commented. Bobby turned his attention to the youngest Winchester, making his way over to him.

"Key of Solomon? It's the real deal, all right."

"And these, uh, these protective circles, they really work?" Sam asked, pointing to the demon trap illustrated in the book.

"Hell yeah. You get a demon in one, they're trapped. Powerless. It's like a satanic roach motel."

An unsettling realization settled over Deja at Sam and Dean's continuous...well, for lack of a better way of putting it, lack of knowledge about demons, and she looked between the two Winchester brothers. "You two haven't dealt with a lot of demons...have you?"

Dean shook his head. "Not really, no. Our usual's the bump in the night kind of monsters and ghosts, not demons. But that's why we've got you and Bobby. You've got your demon and witch specialization, and Bobby here—well, the man really knows his stuff," Dean told her before making his way over to the desk Bobby and Sam were gathered around, which prompted Deja to move closer as well.

"I'll tell you somethin' else, too. This is some serious crap you three've stepped in," Bobby told them seriously, meeting each of their gazes.

"Oh yeah? How's that?" Sam asked.

"Normal year I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Maybe four, tops."

"Yeah?" Dean prompted Bobby to continue, brow furrowed in concern for whatever the man was going to say next.

"This year I heard of twenty-seven—so far. You get what I'm sayin? More and more demons are walkin' among us. A lot more."

"Do you know why?" Sam asked.

"No. But I know it's something big. A storm's comin, and you boys, your friend, your daddy—you are smack in the middle of it," Bobby warned them. Before anyone could reply or the conversation could continue any further, the dog outside started barking, catching Bobby's attention immediately. "Rumsfeld."

Bobby got up, making his way over to the window as everyone heard a chain rustling before the barking abruptly ended with a low whine. "What is it..." Bobby murmured, looking outside. Three seconds later, he whipped around to face the other three. "Somethin's wrong."

Bobby had hardly gotten the words out before there was a loud crash, and all four heads turned to see the door get kicked in by none other than Meg, who strutted in so casually she might as well have just stepped into her own home. Dean pulled the flask of holy water Bobby had given him out of his pocket as she approached, everyone tensing as she came to a stop a few paces away.

"No more crap, okay?" she said casually. Dean charged forward, quickly unscrewing the flask as he moved, but it didn't matter. With a simple wave of Meg's arm, Dean was sent flying through the air and crashed into one of Bobby's bookcases, falling to the ground unmoving.

"Dean!" Deja shouted as Sam moved protectively in front of Bobby, though she didn't rush to Dean's side.

There was a pixie in her way.

"I want the colt, Sam—the real colt. Right now," Meg said dangerously. Deja stepped between Meg and Sam as Sam started to push Bobby back towards the library.

"We don't have it on us—we buried it," Sam spat, moving back with Bobby as Meg started advancing on them again. Deja took a measured step back for every two steps Meg took forward, keeping herself securely between the demon and Sam the entire time.

"Didn't I say no more crap," Meg sneered. "I swear, after everything I heard about you Winchesters and your Floy friend, I've got to tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed!"

Just wait for it, Meg, we like people thinking they've overestimated us, Deja thought.

"First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you three chuckleheads. Lackluster, man. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you?" Meg asked, voice falsely sweet as Sam, Deja, and Bobby stopped moving. Sam and Bobby hitting their legs against the library's desk while Deja stood a hair's breath in front of Sam, still between him and Meg.

Suddenly, Deja smiled at her—a false smile filled with more threat than warmth as she saw Dean come around the corner behind Meg.

"Actually...we were counting on it," Dean announced smugly, staring the demon down as she turned to face him. Dean looked up pointedly, and Meg slowly followed his gaze to see that she was standing under a Solomon's Key demon trap painted onto the ceiling.

She was trapped.

"Gotcha," Dean announced.

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

Sam and Dean stood near the door of the library, staring at the now tied down Meg inside the demon trap in front of them while Deja paced around the trap, closely watching the demon within.

Dean could tell she was in her element, since she walked confidently and watched Meg with the cold, calculating confidence she'd watched the people who'd kidnapped Sam.

Good.

"You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask," Meg stated slyly. No one answered her, Deja continuing her pacing and Dean doing his best to keep from lunging at Meg and strangling the bitch.

Bobby came around the corner, a large container of salt still in hand. Dean didn't even look at him while he spoke. "I salted the doors and windows. If there are any demons out there, they ain't gettin' in."

Dean sighed softly, rising to his feet and moving to stand in front of Meg. Deja stood opposite him, right behind her. "Where's our father, Meg?"

"You didn't ask very nice," Meg said with a false pout.

Dean smiled harshly at her. "Where's our father, bitch?"

Meg pretended to be taken aback. "Jeez—you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, I forgot...you don't."

"Hey, you think this is a freakin' game?" Dean shouted, getting right in her face. Deja continued circling Dean, coming around to his side. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"He died screaming. I killed him myself," Meg replied calmly, a sickening smile spreading across her face.

Dean felt his rage boil over, and his hand reared back, coming around with all his strength.

Deja caught his arm before his hand could connect with Meg's face, the collision making an audible smacking sound, though Deja still held firm enough his arm didn't go any further. Her fingers slipped up to wrap around his wrist, holding fast to his arm and holding his gaze.

"Dean," she said, tone warning. "I will make you sit this one out if I have to."

"Well don't stop him—hitting a girl...It's kind of a turn on," Meg purred. Deja didn't flinch, but Dean leaned away from Deja to hiss at Meg.

"You're no girl."

Deja suddenly pushed him away, which earned her a sharp look from Dean as he tried resisting her. "Bobby?" she asked, looking to the veteran hunter.

"Dean," Bobby said seriously, and Dean finally backed away, following Bobby and Sam back into the kitchen.

"You okay?" Sam asked softly.

"She's lying, he's not dead," Dean growled.

"Dean, you've got to be careful with her. Don't hurt her," Bobby reprimanded him. Dean was taken aback.

"Why?"

"Because she really is a girl, that's why."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"She's possessed. That's a human possessed by a demon, your friend can tell, can't you?"

Dean looked back at Deja and Meg, Meg staring past Deja—who stood right in front of her without saying a word—and right to Dean before he looked back at Bobby. "Are you trying to tell me there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there?" Bobby nodded, and Dean chewed on his lip thoughtfully for a few seconds. "That's actually good news."

He turned back to the library, pulling Deja a few steps away from Meg and leaning in to whisper in her ear. "If she's possessed, we can exorcise that demon out of her, right?"

Deja gave him an odd look. "That's what I was planning on doing, Dean. What did you think we were going to do—smack her around until she answered us?"

"Well..." Dean said, suddenly feeling stupid because of her tone. "Yes, actually."

"You'd be surprised how many demons are quick to talk when you're about to send them back to Hell," Deja told him. "Just, let me lead it from here on out, okay? You ask your questions, but let me control it, I know what I'm doing, Dean."

Dean glanced at Meg briefly, then turned his attention back to Deja, giving a small nod in agreement. "All right, then," he said, and the two of them came to stand in front of Meg again. Meg looked between the two of them, a sneer on her face again.

"Are you two quite done having your little lover's chat? I must say, Dean, you could do so much better," Meg remarked, purposely ignoring Deja and looking right at Dean. She cocked her head to the side. "Like a slutty stripper," she said innocently.

Before Dean could reply with a scathing remark, Deja stepped forward so she was right in Meg's line of sight, crouching down in front of her right at the edge of the Solomon's Key on the ceiling.

"You don't look at him, you look at me," Deja said harshly but steadily, holding Meg's gaze. Dean heard Sam and Bobby come in from the other room to see what was going on, but Deja's concentration didn't break away from Meg. Deja pointed over her shoulder at Dean. "He might be asking the questions...but I'm leading this interrogation."

To Dean's immense surprise, the smile Meg wore actually faltered, and her bravado noticeably lessened. Deja noticed it too, tilting her head to the side as she observed Meg with that same cold, calculating look that usually disturbed Dean.

Right now, he was just happy to see it make Meg squirm.

"What's the matter, Meg? What happened to that cocky little bitch face of yours? All that arrogant confidence replaced with a little fear cause of what you've heard about me?" Deja goaded, her voice falsely sweet. She shook her head. "Nah, I won't give myself that much credit...but you know you might have bit off a little more than you can chew."

"You have yet to live up to your reputation, whore," Meg hissed.

"We haven't been playing my game—now we are," Deja returned easily, rising to her feet again. "Congratulations on being the next contestant, Pixie Bitch."

"I'm trembling," Meg said with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

Deja gave her a humorless smile, starting her circling again the same instant flawless Latin started to spill from her lips. Meg's smile faltered, and she looked at Dean, a scowl on her face.

"An exorcism? Are you serious?"

Dean's smug smile grew, eyes glinting dangerously. "Oh, we're going for it, baby. Head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards."

Deja continued her circling of Meg and reciting the exorcism flawlessly, her eyes flickering between Dean and Meg the entire time. Meg suddenly closed her eyes, a grimace of pain flashing across her face as a groan slipped past her lips.

"I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna rip the bones from your body," she hissed at them.

"No, you're gonna burn in Hell...unless you tell me where our dad is," Dean threatened, and Deja paused momentarily to give Meg the chance to answer. Meg didn't say anything. "Well, at least you'll get a nice tan."

Dean looked at Deja, and without any words having to be spoken she returned to her exorcism. Meg started to shake, glaring at Dean and at Deja whenever the woman appeared in her line of vision. She let out a shout, obviously clinging to control of the body she was possessing as she looked at Dean with hate in her eyes.

"He begged for his life with tears in his eyes," Meg snarled as Deja came back around to the front of the circle. At her words, Dean's fury mounted once more, and he barely held himself back from lunging at her as Deja crouched down in front of the demon, eyes sharp and staring at her as she said something in the exorcism she was reciting with a sudden fervor, gaze unwavering from Meg. As soon as those Latin words left Deja's lips, Meg made a noticeable, long cry of pain, the end of her shout turning into words still aimed at Dean—and Sam, who was still standing back with Bobby and watching. "He begged to see his sons one last time. That's when I slit his throa—"

Deja spoke louder over Meg's words, the Latin coming fast and harsh, like each word was the crack of a whip. Meg screamed in pain, the lights flickering, and Bobby stepped forward, to Dean's surprise.

"What the hell are you doin? That's not the words to the exorcism," Bobby interrupted, catching both Sam and Dean's attention. Deja didn't tear her gaze from Meg, though she did pause in her reciting to answer him.

"I'm taking a few liberties with the phrasings," Deja returned evenly.

"Now's not the time to experiment, lady, the exorcism might not work if you choose the wrong words," Bobby fumed, though Deja spoke over him.

"I'm not experimenting—this isn't my first rodeo. I know what I'm doing...and before you protest more, its only hurting the demon part," Deja replied, keeping her gaze locked on Meg. "Now, Meg—we're not here for your rehearsed lie. The truth, now."

Meg grit her teeth, an actual growl ripping up her throat before she responded. "I already said, I killed him."

Deja stood up sharply, her Latin words continuing, still spoken with intensity that got Dean's adrenaline pumping even more. Once she resumed her pacing, Dean stepped forward again, getting in Meg's face.

"For your sake, I hope you're lyin'. Cause if it's true, I swear to God, I will march into Hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God!" Dean promised, jaw clenched tight. He was just starting to straighten again when a wind picked up to match Deja's exorcism, and the lights flickered just briefly. Dean looked back at Meg, who was shaking openly and breathing heavily by now, and only spoke when she let out another cry of pain, looking like she was starting to lose her battle for control. "Where is he?"

"You just won't take dead for an answer, will you?" Meg rasped.

"Where is he?" Dean seethed, starting to pace himself. He and Deja were about to cross paths in their circulations.

"Dead!" Meg shouted, and Dean finally snapped, his façade cracking wide open for a few moments as he got right in her face and screamed at her.

"No, he's not! He's not dead, he can't be!" Dean argued, voice cracking several times from the intensity of his words.

He heard Deja's exorcism stop momentarily and he looked up when he felt her hand on his shoulder blade, catching Sam staring at him like he'd never seen him before.

"What are you looking at?" Dean asked harshly, retreating rapidly back into his shell. Deja was already moving past him in her circle, her hand gliding across his back as he turned his attention to her. "Keep going," he ordered, though he didn't need to. Though her eyes were on him now, she resumed her reciting without missing a beat, her words not quite as intense now, though still fervent and fluent.

As she reached the end of another sentence, pausing for breath, Meg let out a long shout, and the chair she was strapped to slid to the edge of the demon trap towards Deja, who didn't even flinch, continuing her reciting and her circling as Meg started to scrape rapidly around the inside of the trap, shouting in pain. As she came back around, Deja pulled Dean back a few steps to avoid getting hit by Meg's chair, still going.

"He will be!" Meg suddenly shrieked, and Dean's heart stopped just as quickly as Deja stopped reciting, which was before Dean could even turn his gaze to her.

"What?" he almost shouted.

"He's not dead, but he will be after what we do to him," Meg said ominously, head rolling to look from Deja to Dean.

"How do we know we're telling the truth?"

"You don't."

"Deja," Dean said sharply, and before Deja could open her mouth, Meg spoke again.

"A building! Okay? A building in Jefferson City."

"Missouri? Where, where, an address," Dean demanded, gaze riveted on the demon in front of him.

"I don't know," Meg said almost desperately.

"And the demon, where is it?" Sam added, stepping forward from where he'd been standing with Bobby.

"I don't know! I swear," Meg snapped. "That's everything, that's all I know."

Dean stared at her several more long moments, deciding whether or not she was telling the truth before he looked up at Deja, their eyes meeting. He didn't even have to say what he was thinking, she just knew, and it seemed she agreed with him, going right into the end of the exorcism without any hesitation.

"What? I told you the truth!" Meg practically shrieked at Deja, though Dean called her attention back to him.

"I don't care," Dean dismissed her protest flippantly.

"You son of a bitch, you promised!" Meg growled.

"I lied!" Dean snapped.

"Wait!" Sam protested, interrupting Deja's reciting and drawing everyone's attention to him. "We can still use her, find out where the demon is."

"She doesn't know," Dean said, waving off the suggestion.

"She lied," Sam insisted, anger creeping into his tone for what felt like the millionth time in the past week or so.

"Sam, there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there, we've got to help her," Dean said sharply.

"Dean," Deja suddenly said softly from her spot by Meg. Dean looked up at her, not liking the solemn expression on her face. "The only way we'll be able to help her is freeing her from the demon—she won't survive afterwards."

Dean was taken aback, staring at her as he stepped forward. "What are you talking about?"

"Yeah, slut...tell him..." Meg rasped, glaring at Deja, who stubbornly ignored the demon beside her.

"She fell out of a seventh story window, Dean, and God knows what else has happened to her. The only reason that girl's still alive right now is the supernatural being inside her. As soon as it's gone, those injuries are gonna catch up with her. She won't make it." Deja looked at Meg, expression emotionless. "But she will be free of the demon before she dies, at least."

"Ooh, so icy," Meg goaded. "Now you're starting to live up to your reputation, there, Floy."

"You're not seriously talking about killing that girl, that human being, are you?" Bobby asked incredulously. Dean didn't look at him, catching Deja's gaze. Her expression softened just enough he could see a flicker of herself under this cold layer, and he shook his head.

"We're not going to leave her like this. We're gonna put her out of her misery," Dean said firmly, nodding at Deja. "Deja."

Deja inclined her head to acknowledge him, and she resumed the exorcism, stopping her circling at last and stepping back to stand beside him, staring down at Meg as she let the last of the Latin flow forth. Meg started to seize in the chair, and it screeched forward, coming to a stop in front of Dean and Deja as Meg's eyes turned pure black and she stared hatefully for several long moments before she threw back her head with a scream, a plume of black smoke billowing furiously out of her mouth towards the ceiling. The lights surged and flickered furiously, the wind in the room picking up substantially as they watched the smoke stream forth before it abruptly ended, and Meg fell forward, limp with her head hanging against her chest, the entire spectacle abruptly over.

As soon as the smoke disappeared, Deja dropped to her knees in front of Meg, the ruthless side of her disappearing as quickly as it tended to come as she gently tilted Meg's head up just enough to see her. Blood abruptly dripped out of Meg's mouth, and Deja cradled the girl's head carefully in her hand.

"C'mon, sweetheart, open your eyes," Deja murmured. A hardly audible wheeze reached Dean's ears, and Deja seemed to sag slightly in relief. "Guys, help me with her," she ordered them as the girl started to lift her head on her own. Dean turned to Bobby.

"Call 911, get some water and blankets," he told Bobby before he and Sam hurried to Deja's side, undoing the ropes that had restrained Meg to the chair moments ago.

"Thank you..." the girl croaked as the ropes dropped to the ground.

"Shh, shh, just take it easy, all right?" Sam told her gently. Dean shifted to put a hand under her leg and another on her back, looking to Sam to mirror him while Deja backed up for a moment.

"Come on, let's get her down," Dean told Sam, and together the two of them lowered the groaning girl to the floor, laying her down as gently as they could.

"I've got you, I've got you," Sam reassured her as she went down, gasping for air and in clear agony. "It's okay, it's okay."

"A year..." the girl breathed out.

"What?" Sam asked.

"It's been a year..." the girl repeated.

"Just take it easy," Sam told her instead of acknowledging her statement. Deja crouched down next to Dean, her hand coming down to cover one of his, which only surprised him briefly, and he didn't pull away. This sudden silent openness between them—while something that was new to him and sometimes made him feel uncomfortable with how vulnerable it made him feel at times—was needed and welcome with everything going on right now.

"I've been awake for some of it..." the girl continued to whisper, trying to get her story out as the life slowly dribbled out of her. "I couldn't move my own body. The things I did...it's a nightmare."

If she was awake for some of it, then maybe...

"Was it telling us the truth about our dad?" Dean asked. Sam looked at Dean like he was disturbed Dean would interrogate the girl while she was dying.

But they had to know.

"Dean," Sam protested, but Deja waved him off.

At least she was on Dean's side with all of this.

"We need to know," Dean reinforced, sparing his brother a glance before he looked back at Meg.

"Yes," the girl rasped. "But it wants...you to know...that...they want you to come for him."

"If Dad's still alive, none of that matters," Dean murmured.

Bobby returned at that moment, handing Dean the water and Sam the blankets so they could make the girl more comfortable. Bobby and Sam wrapped the blankets around her while Deja and Dean helped the girl sit up enough so she could drink the water, Dean holding the glass to her lips and slowly tipping it up so she could take a few sips.

"Where is the demon we're looking for?" Sam asked once she was done taking a drink.

"Not there," she said simply. "Other ones. Awful ones."

"Where are they keeping our dad?" Dean asked carefully.

"By the r...river...sunrise..." she breathed, voice flickering out.

"Sunrise? What does that mean?" Dean asked, but the girl had stopped moving. "What does that mean?" he asked again, but Deja squeezed his hand to stop him and get his attention. He looked at Deja, and she simply shook her head.

It was too late. The girl was gone. They had to work with what they had.

He couldn't stop looking at the girl, her glassy eyes looking back at him, like...like...

Before his brain could come up with a proper haunting analogy, Deja reached forward and tenderly closed the girl's eyelids, breaking the spell her empty eyes seemed to hold over him. At the same time, her other hand threaded its fingers through hers, and she held his hand even tighter.

At least she'd been freed of the demon.

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

They left for Missouri not long after the girl died, no time for much of a goodbye or for Deja to deal with any collateral from the girl's death.

She wasn't blind—she could see how watching her die, knowing that he'd chosen to exorcise the demon in the end, was messing with Dean.

Unfortunately, they had to leave immediately since there were paramedics on their way, so they said their goodbyes to Bobby and pretty much hit the ground running to Jefferson City, Deja following Dean in the Impala again in another race against time.

Who knew how long the demons would keep John alive?

In an abandoned corner of an old railroad yard by the river, they parked their cars once they reached Jefferson, all three of them silently getting ready to get moving in their own ways. Dean was loading and checking his guns while stuffing a duffel bag full of essentials, Sam was looking through the book he'd been looking at while they were at Bobby's—a book Bobby had given him to use in case they still needed it, and Deja was checking her usual weapons, grabbing some holy water and flipping through her hunter's journal for a quick refresher on a few entries about demons, just to make sure she didn't forget any tricks that might come in handy in the next however many hours, or even days.

"You've been quiet," Sam suddenly stated, and Deja looked up to see him gazing at Dean.

Of course he's been quiet. Your father's being held captive by demons and could be killed at any moment, and we just exorcised a demon from a girl, which caused her to die, and he made the call. He's not made of stone, Sam, Deja thought, though she kept all of it to herself.

Dean knew he had her. And she hoped he knew she understood. Hell, they'd had maybe a little too much in common back there, tag-teaming exorcising the demon almost without any verbal communication, effortlessly interrogating and even somewhat torturing it for answers and agreeing with each other's call every step of the way.

As frightening as the thought could be—she knew how cold and even heartless she could get at times when she put herself in that kind of mindless—it was also kind of a relief to work so flawlessly with someone in a high stress situation like that, for them to just mesh.

It was refreshing...addicting, even. And she secretly hoped they could do it again, though maybe without the possessed person dying the next time.

"Just getting ready," Dean answered, though it took him a while to give Sam that answer.

"He's gonna be fine, Dean," Sam replied, watching Dean closely as the older Winchester continued going through the trunk, expression stoic.

Deja knew better to poke right now. No comforting touches when he was trying to build up his wall to prepare himself for whatever they found. She could make the wall raise up in the instant she needed it too, but it seemed Dean still needed to build it up.

At least he did right now. She was pretty sure a few chunks of his metaphorical wall had been knocked down over the past few hours. He was doing damage control, building it back up so he could survive whatever came next.

And if the wall didn't hold...well, then he had Deja.

Dean didn't answer Sam, and thankfully Sam let the subject drop, turning back to the book Bobby had lent him. After a few moments, Sam pulled out a piece of chalk, and Deja caught a glimpse of the symbol he was looking at as he approached the open trunk of the Impala, getting ready to start marking on the glossy—well, glossy underneath its current layer of dust and dirt—black paint.

Deja was there in a second flat before Dean could notice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there, buddy," Deja stopped Sam, grabbing his wrist before he could make a mark.

"What? I'm just—I'm trying to—" Sam started to explain, but Deja interrupted him.

I see the symbol in the book, I get what you're trying to do—I got a better idea...also, let me see that symbol, I might have a better symbol, too," Deja told him, peering around his arm to get a better look at the symbol he was wanting to draw on the Impala's trunk. Dean leaned around the open trunk, looking at his brother suspiciously.

"What are you doing?" he asked, eyeing the chalk in his hand distrustfully.

"Don't worry, just...go back to checking guns, I'll tell you when we figure this out," Deja told him with a wave of her hand. She ran her finger over the Latin in the book, then slowly nodded her head. "All right, I got something better for you to use, and you can put it inside so you don't mark on the paint job."

"What about my car's paint job?" Dean asked sharply, now coming all the way around the trunk to approach his brother while Deja made her way back to her car, pulling out her hunter's journal before making her way back.

"Sam had an idea to put symbols on the trunk to keep any contents inside safe from demons. It's a good idea, I did that for my trunk—I carved this symbol on the top and bottom of the inside of the trunk, and painted it for good measure, a long time ago. It'll make it like a lock box they'll never get into. Maybe even keep them in your trunk, in your case, since your trunk is big enough to fit a few bodies," Deja quipped. She opened her hunter's journal to the right place, showing Sam the symbol she had sketched on the page. "Use that one—trust me."

"So? We don't have to," Dean protested when Sam moved towards the trunk to start drawing Deja's symbol inside.

"It'll give us a place to hide the colt while we go get Dad," Sam added, and Deja stilled.

She hadn't known Sam was thinking that.

Oh, she could practically feel the tension between the two brothers suddenly skyrocket.

"What are you talking about? We're bringing the colt with us," Dean argued.

"We can't, Dean. We've only got three bullets left. We can't just use them on any demon, we've got to use them on the demon."

"No, we have to save Dad, Sam, okay?" Dean said forcefully, coming to stand beside Sam while Sam continued drawing the symbol inside the trunk. "We're gonna need all the help we can get!"

"Dean, you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets?" Sam asked, though it was clearly a rhetorical question.

John would no doubt be furious.

"Dean, he wouldn't want us to bring the gun," Sam said evenly.

"I don't care, Sam!" Dean suddenly shouted. "I don't care what Dad wants, okay? And since when do you care what Dad wants?"

"We want to kill this demon! You used to want that, too! Hell, I mean, you're the one who came and got me at school! You're the one who dragged me back into this, Dean, I'm just trying to finish it!" Sam shouted right back. Dean laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

"Well, you and Dad are a lot more alike than I thought, you know that?" Dean said, voice suddenly soft as he stared his brother down, those emotional barriers reinforcing themselves before Deja's eyes. "You both can't wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I'm gonna be the one to bury you."

When Sam still didn't say anything, Dean shook his head. "You're selfish, you know that? You don't care about anything but revenge."

"That's not true, Dean," Sam said, voice a little softer now. Dean scoffed, but Sam just continued speaking. "I want Dad back. But they are expecting us to bring this gun. They get the gun, they will kill us all. That colt is our only leverage, and you know it, Dean. We cannot bring that gun. We can't."

"Fine," Dean replied shortly.

"I'm serious, Dean," Sam said harshly.

"I said fine, Sam," Dean snapped, pulling the colt out from inside of his jacket pocket and showing it to Sam before he placed it in the now warded trunk, making a show of the action for his brother's sake. Sam didn't say anything more, he just gathered his stuff and threw it into the back seat, basically ready to go.

Deja rested her head against the top of her Corvette, heaving a sigh.

So much spiraling out of control right now, and she didn't have enough time to play referee between these two and keep them from tearing each other apart in their desperation to reach all these different goals.

She just hoped they'd be able to make it through this relatively in one piece.