It was Dean who figured out what Meg had meant by sunrise, spotting the Sunrise Apartments right across the street from the river before Sam or Deja did. It was also Dean who figured out their plan for how to get inside. They couldn't just walk inside because the demons, who probably knew what they looked like, could be possessing anyone, and there would be an entire building full of human shields. So, Dean decided one of them should go in and pull the fire alarm, and when the city finally responded, they would swipe some firemen outfits to slip unnoticed inside and figure out which apartment was the apartment with their father by looking for the only one that still had people inside.

Sam and Dean were going to be the ones swiping the firemen outfits and going inside. Deja was currently scoping out the rest of the building and looking for another way inside and even out of the building, just in case Sam and Dean needed another way.

Of course, the most obvious choice was the fire escape on the side of the building.

Making sure nobody was looking her way, Deja very quietly started to climb the fire escape, wondering if Sam and Dean were already inside and doing her best to ignore the sounds of the crowd out front and the fire trucks, filtering out that general noise for any other important sounds like the click of a gun's safety, sounds that would let her know she was in danger.

Moving slowly, Deja made sure to be extra cautious around the windows, peeking around corners and ducking underneath the windows at times to escape being noticed.

Once she was about two floors up—which took some time, with how cautious she was being because she loved life and wasn't quite ready to part with it just yet—she quickly found out what floor she needed to be at, and judging by the ruckus she could faintly hear, what room as well.

Abandoning the caution she'd been exercising because now she knew what room the demons were in, Deja hurried up the fire escape, still making an effort not to make too much noise since she didn't want to draw unwanted attention from the civilians or firemen to herself, either. Despite still exercising some caution, she made it to the window she was headed for and looked inside to see John Winchester tied town to the bed inside at the same time Sam and Dean walked through the bedroom door.

Deja knocked on the window, causing Sam and Dean to jump and Dean to almost draw a gun on her, though when they both registered it was here they relaxed, Dean hurrying to John's side while Sam moved to open the window for Deja. Once the window was open, Sam's attention was immediately dominated by Dean checking to see if John was even still alive.

It seemed like forever Deja and Sam waited in tense silence for Dean to give a verdict before Dean finally straightened. "He's still breathing," Dean announced. Instantly, he started to shake John, who didn't respond. "Dad, wake up. Dad!"

Dean pulled back, pulling out his pocket knife, but before he could cut even one of John's limbs free of the bed, Sam and Deja both stopped him.

"Wait, wait," Sam said, while Deja simply reached out and pulled slightly at his jacket to get his attention.

"What?" Dean asked, irritated. They were on a clock, but still.

"Possession, Dean, it can happen to anyone. We've got to be safe," Deja told him, looking to Sam, who had already pulled out his own small vial of holy water.

"Are you nuts?" Dean asked, about to go back to cutting their father free.

"If the demon who does the possessing is strong enough, it could even happen to your father, Dean. We've just got to check," Deja assured him. Before Dean could argue any more, Sam splashed the water on John several times. There was no hiss, no sizzle.

But John did finally stir.

Oh, of course, the shaking and the shouting doesn't rouse him, but a few drizzles of water on his chest does.

John's head lifted off of the bed slightly. "Sam?" he rasped, dazed. "Wh...why are you splashin' water on me?"

Sam let out a strained laugh, and Dean leaned over their now conscious father, checking him over again. "Dad, are you okay?"

"They've been druggin' me," John rumbled, voice slurred slightly to match the statement. "Where's the colt?"

"Don't worry, Dad, it's safe," Sam said, standing back while Dean untied John from the bed. Deja stayed by the window, unsure if they were going to try and go back out the apartment building's door or go out the fire escape.

The door would be ideal, since John seemed to be in pretty bad shape, but the fire escape was the more incognito choice.

"Good boys...good boys..." John mumbled, sounding like he was about to slip out of consciousness again.

Once Dean finally had John untied, Sam and Dean supported him together, one arm draped around each boy's shoulders while Deja led the way to the door, their first line of defense in case they were jumped.

However, she didn't even make it to the door out of the apartment before she knew they were going to be taking the incognito route, as they had hardly crossed halfway across the kitchen towards the door when it was suddenly kicked in.

On instinct, Deja reached behind her and shoved them back.

"Go, go, go!" she ordered, the three of them backpedaling into the bedroom once more. Deja slammed the door shut, holding it shut while Sam passed John off to Dean so he could grab the salt and put a salt line in front of the door before the demons who had just busted into the apartment could break it down, too.

"The fire escape, go, now," she told Sam once the salt line was down, taking the salt container from him and waiting for Sam, Dean, and John to maneuver themselves out onto the fire escape—which was actually difficult with John's condition—before she too went out the window, quickly salting the window sill behind her before she went any further. By the time she was following the Winchesters down the fire escape they were two levels below her, but she didn't mind, trying to keep an eye out while quickly rushing down the fire escape, her vial of holy water in hand so she was prepared for any demon that tried to jump them.

She practically slid down the ladder to catch up to Sam and Dean, Sam several paces ahead of John and Dean so he could check to see if the coast was clear, and Deja a few steps behind Dean.

Deja and Dean were both too far away for an immediate reaction when Sam was suddenly tackled to the ground by a man in leather—a demon, considering their current situation—who started punching him over and over, and Dean put John down to rush to Sam's defense. Deja, however, wasn't burdened by an injured grown man, and she was already descending on the pair, holy water in hand. She threw the holy water at the demon before it could register she'd gotten close enough to do so, allowing Sam a moment to catch his breath as she launched into the first exorcism that popped into her head.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundis spiritus, omnis satanica potest—" she rushed, though she didn't get any farther than that, as the demon had recovered from the holy water assault, and with the same demon powers meg had displayed back at Bobby's house, he sent her careening into the semi that was parked not even six steps from where Sam had been tackled to the ground.

Deja hit hard, the breath knocked completely out of her and her head instantly pulsing in pain as the world spun and momentarily faded around her, completely dazed. She missed the next few seconds of what happened as she struggled for her bearings, but when she was able to focus on her surroundings again she could see Dean had been tossed aside as well, and the demon was once again wailing on Sam, blood pouring from Sam's mouth and nose.

Deja staggered to her feet, restraining from making any noise of anger or pain as she simply put her shoulder down and tackled the demon off of Sam football style, like she'd recently tackled the vampire that had been approaching Sam. The two of them rolled, the demon clutching onto her and to her dismay ending up on top, pinning her to the ground underneath him as he pulled out a bowie knife. The next few seconds seemed to slow to a crawl as her heart rate skyrocketed and the adrenaline pulsed through her entire system in the blink of an eye.

That blade was coming down.

She was pinned.

She was going to die if she didn't do something, and she only had one card she could play, a card she didn't want to play...one she only resorted to in a backed-into-a-corner, no-way-out situation like this.

God help me, don't—

Before she could even finish the thought, a gunshot rang out and the demon froze, blood spattering the ground beside them as Deja felt that familiar surge of raw energy she'd felt when the lead vampire of that nest was killed, and as the demon fell sideways off of her in the direction the bullet had been traveling, Deja turned to see Dean kneeling on the ground, not all the way to his feet yet, colt in hand and still smoking.

His hand wasn't so much as shaking, face only composed of sheer, steely determination.

With a soft groan of relief, Deja let her head fall back to the ground.

She'd thank him for saving her life later.

Right now, she had to get her heartrate back to normal and bring herself back down from her near-death experience before her hyper-sensitivity got someone who didn't need hurt shot or stabbed or something like that.

And they had to get as far from Jefferson City and the demons within as possible.

That too.

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

They drove as fast as they could out of Jefferson City, though they were still in the state of Missouri itself when they finally stopped, finding an abandoned cabin in the quite literal middle of nowhere. John was given the old bed to rest on, Sam took a little time to clean himself up, Dean insisted on making sure Deja wasn't bleeding out of her head or something—apparently after Chicago he didn't trust her telling him she wasn't injured, and all of the doors and windows had been salted to keep any demons who might happen to find them out. Dean kept checking on John, unable to truly leave his father's side since he was in so rough of shape and Dean had come so close to losing him.

Deja didn't blame him, though. Instead, she helped check their temporary sanctuary's defenses one more time before she let herself finally rest for a moment, sitting down in one of the rickety chairs in the weathered kitchen.

A few minutes after she sat down, while Sam was salting the last window in that very room, Dean came out of John's room again, wiping his hands of something with a rag.

Most likely blood.

"How is he?" Sam asked.

"He just needed a little rest, that's all," Dean said quietly. "How are you?"

Sam took a deep breath. "I'll survive."

He was pretty banged up, a nasty shiner taking up almost half the right side of his face and his lip noticeably split near the left corner. His nose was a little swollen too.

Dean leaned against the table Deja was sitting at and Sam turned around, looking absolutely exhausted. "Hey, you don't think we were followed here, do you?" Sam asked.

"I don't know. I don't think so," Dean admitted. "I mean...we couldn't have found a more out-of-the-way place to hole up."

"Yeah..." Sam sighed. "Hey, uh...Dean, you, um...you and Deja...saved my life back there."

Deja smiled faintly at Dean. "And you saved mine, too."

Dean returned the faint smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Almost, though.

"So I guess you're glad I brought the gun, huh?" Dean asked. Sam shifted a little uncomfortably.

"Man, I'm tryin' to thank you, here."

Dean nodded, looking away from both of them. "You're welcome."

Sam started to make his way out of the room after a lengthy silence, but Deja could tell that he wasn't going to get all the way out the door because Dean's features were drawn into a thoughtful frown, the deep kind that let her know he was about to say something important and maybe even personal or vulnerable.

"Hey, Sam," Dean called softly, stopping Sam from leaving the room without even turning around.

"Yeah?" Sam asked.

"You know that guy I shot? There was a person in there," Dean said, voice dropping noticeably. Deja tried to look Dean in the eyes, but he couldn't seem to look at her, not yet, anyway.

"You didn't have a choice, Dean," Sam tried to console him. Dean shook his head, though the action was almost imperceptible.

"Yeah, I know, that's not what bothers me."

Sam shifted, looking a little disturbed by Dean's statement, but Deja...Deja felt she might know where this was going. "Then what does?" Sam asked.

Dean finally looked up, meeting Deja's gaze as he spoke, voice still low, expression slightly glazed over as he seemed to be here in the present and also staring far away. "Killing that guy, killing Meg...I didn't hesitate, I didn't even flinch."

Deja gazed right back at him, for once not keeping any of her walls up or controlling her expression. He understood. He understood the drive she'd had to do what she'd done when Sam had been kidnapped, when those people put a blade to Dean's throat and threatened to kill him. He saw how she could have killed two people back to back without any reaction.

Maybe he even saw himself in that, now.

He understood.

"For you or Dad, the things I'm willing to do or kill, it's just, ah..." Dean continued, looking away from Deja and letting his gaze drop to his lap. "It scares me, sometimes."

Deja shifted in her seat, leaning forward and placing a hand on his knee. "Dean..." she murmured softly, letting her hand move up towards his arm. Before she could say anything else or even get him to look at her again, a fourth voice entered the mix.

"It shouldn't," John said, and as soon as Deja heard his voice her hand dropped away and she leaned back. Dean and Sam looked up at their father as well, who looked weathered and beat to hell, but was walking around on his own, at least. "You did good."

Dean looked at John in timid surprise, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're not mad?"

"For what?" John asked.

"Using a bullet," Dean said simply.

"Mad?" John shook his head. "I'm proud of you."

Now Dean was really taken aback—Deja was too, a little. From the impression she'd gotten of John so far, that hadn't been the reaction she was expecting.

John nodded towards Sam. "You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you—you...you watch out for this family. You always have."

Dean debating John's words for a moment, lips twitching briefly towards a half smile before he finally seemed to accept what John was saying. "Thanks."

Dean had just gotten the word out of his mouth when a strong wind suddenly picked up, and all four of them looked around as the lights noticeably surged.

Awe, shit...Just one break, God, can we just get one break? One night?

John moved to the window, Sam and Dean flanking him while Deja rose to her feet. "It found us, it's here," John announced after looking outside for a few seconds.

"The demon?" Sam asked. Deja grimaced.

They weren't ready for this, half of them weren't in a state to fight.

"Sam, lines of salt in front of every window, every door," John commanded.

"Already did it," Sam returned.

"Well, check it, okay?" John told him, and Sam left the room to start working his way back, checking each door along the way no doubt. "Dean, you got the gun?" John asked. Dean nodded.

"Yeah."

"Give it to me."

"Yeah, Sam tried to shoot the demon in Salvation, and it vanished," Dean informed him, fishing the gun out of the back of his jeans.

"This is me, I won't miss. Now hurry," John told him gruffly.

Dean paused, the gun held in his hands as he stared down at it thoughtfully. The hairs on the back of Deja's neck stood on end, not in her oh there's something supernatural here that's really bad way, but in a gut feeling kind of way, something that told her, just by watching Dean, that something was wrong.

"Son, please," John stressed when Dean didn't immediately hand over the gun. A dark look had fallen across Dean's face, and it was aimed entirely at John as he suddenly took two steps back. "Give me the gun. What are you doing, Dean?"

"He'd be furious," Dean said quietly.

"What?" John hissed.

"That I wasted a bullet. He wouldn't be proud of me, he'd tear me a new one," Dean said, voice getting more confident with each word as he shook his head. John said nothing, and Dean raised the colt, clicking the safety off and aiming it right at John.

"You're not my dad."

As soon as those words passed Dean's lips, Deja shifted where she stood in the kitchen, coming to stand behind Dean, practically glued to his side as she gazed warily at John.

"Dean, it's me," John said fervently.

"I know my dad better than anyone, and you ain't him," Dean practically growled.

"What the hell has gotten into you?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Stay back."

At that moment, Sam returned to the room to see Dean and Deja standing together with the gun pointed at John.

The absurd thought crossed her mind that the scene almost looked like she was a siren telling Dean to shoot John so they could run away together, but she pushed that thought aside, heartbeat starting to pick up again as the reality of the situation started to settle in.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Sam asked, staring between Dean and Deja and Not-John.

"Your brother's lost his mind," John said flatly.

"He's not dad," Dean returned a slight rasp to his voice.

"What?" Sam asked, bemused.

"I think he's possessed," Dean elaborated. "I think he's been possessed since we rescued him."

"Don't listen to him, Sammy," John said sharply.

"Dean, how do you know?" Sam asked.

"He-he's different," Dean replied shortly, stumbling slightly over the words.

"You know, we don't have time for this! Sam, if you want to kill this demon, you've got to trust me," John said fiercely.

Sam looked between his brother and his father, clearly torn. Deja didn't get a say in whether or not it was John, she didn't know him well enough, but she was standing with Dean either way. She trusted Dean's judgement, and if Dean said John wasn't John, then he wasn't John.

"Sam," John repeated, looking at the youngest Winchester expectantly.

Sam continued to look between the two, seeing his father's...too calm face, and his brother, fighting back a storm of emotions to be holding a gun on his father, the colt trembling slightly in his grip and Deja close to his side in support.

"No," Sam finally said softly, and he moved to stand on the other side of Dean. "No."

Several unreadable expressions crossed John's face as he looked between the two boys, showing open contempt for Deja. "Fine," he whispered. "You're both so sure, go ahead. Kill me," John said softly, bowing his head.

Dean wavered. His entire body trembled, and Deja felt it because she was pressed next to him. The gun dipped lower, and a few tense moments passed.

"I thought so," John said, his tone entirely different.

When he looked up and Deja saw his eyes, her first instinct was to claw the gun from Dean's hand and shoot John herself, and it was purely a survival instinct.

Her brain didn't even get to finish choosing that as her go to move before a powerful surge went through the room, and Sam, Dean, and Deja were all flung in different directions, pinned to different walls by a force they could not see. The colt skidded across the ground, far out of their reach, and Deja felt panic well in her throat as she looked at Dean, who was almost directly across from her.

She felt trapped, like an insect pinned to the display board while it was still alive, or a beetle caught under a glass.

No, no, no, no, no...

John—no, the demon (Sam had said it had yellow eyes)—picked the colt off the ground, heaving a bored sigh. "What a pain in the ass this thing's been."

"It's you, isn't it," Sam growled, and the demon smiled at him in answer. "We've been looking for you for a long time."

"Well, you found me," the demon said, though it was in a belittling tone of voice.

"But the holy water," Sam said in confusion.

"If the demon's powerful enough it's not going to hurt it," Deja said in a low tone of voice, glaring steadily at the demon that had them trapped. It turned to Deja like she was an afterthought, pointing the colt at her.

"You're that Floy girl, right? The demon expert?" he scoffed. "You've made a few ripples among my kind. I might play with you a little longer—simply on principle."

He turned away from her dismissively, and Deja felt the force that was holding her to the wall push harder, and she grunted in pain as she was crushed against the wall, struggling to catch her breath for a few seconds.

"I'm gonna kill you," Sam snarled as the demon turned his attention back to the two Winchesters.

"Oh...that would be a neat trick," the demon mocked, setting the gun down on the table near Sam. "In fact, here: make the gun float to you, there, physic boy."

If I wasn't pinned by your damn demon powers, unable to do anything...

Nothing happened, of course, and the demon chuckled. "Well, this is fun. I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this...this is worth the wait." The demon turned to look at Dean, staring him down. "Your dad? He's in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says hi, by the way. He's gonna tear you apart. He's gonna taste the iron in your blood."

"Let him go," Dean hissed under his breath. "Or I swear to God—"

"What?" the demon interrupted. "What are you and God gonna do? You see, as far as I'm concerned, this is justice."

Dean glared at the demon with pure hatred in his eyes as the demon came closer, leaning in. "You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter."

"Who, Meg?" Dean scoffed.

"The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand?"

"You've got to be kidding me," Dean groaned.

"What? You're the only one that can have a family? You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family?" The demon paused, and though Deja couldn't see the look on his face, she saw the hatred in Dean's eyes spike to impossible heights. "Oh...that's right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs...don't make a right."

"You son of a bitch," Dean hissed.

"I want to know why—why did you do it?" Sam grunted from his spot against the wall.

"You mean why did I kill mommy and pretty, little Jess?" the demon asked, turning to face Sam.

"Yeah."

The demon looked back at Dean. "You know, I never told you this...but Sam was gonna ask her to marry him. Been shoppin' for rings and everything," he told Dean before turning to Sam. "You want to know why? Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what," Sam snarled.

"Of my plans for you, Sammy—you, and all the children like you."

Dean's eyes moved rapidly between his little brother and the demon three inches from his face, and he took a deep breath and spoke in a sarcastic, bitter tone. "Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh? Cause I really can't stand the monologuing," Dean complained, and Deja felt her heart stop for a few seconds.

Don't you dare—don't you dare, she silently chanted at Dean.

He was riling the demon up, drawing his attention away from Sam and towards Dean instead.

"Funny!" the demon snapped, turning back to him. "But that's all part of your M.O. isn't it? Mask all that nasty pain, mask the truth."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked with a bitter smile. "What's that?"

"You know, you fight, and you fight for this family, but the truth is, they don't need you. Not like you need them." Dean stared right back at the demon, but to Deja, it was clear the demon had struck a nerve, nailed one of Dean's deepest pains right on the head. "Sam...he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you."

Dean's smile turned wicked, malicious. "I bet you're real proud of your kids, too, huh? Oh, wait, I forgot...I wasted them," Dean said in a mocking tone, his half-smile far crueler than she'd ever seen it.

Dean...Dean...Dean, don't...

There were a few moments of tense silence as the demon said nothing, took a step back from Dean, bowed his head, and...

Dean suddenly cried out in pain, doubling over, struggling to hold back his cries but failing miserably. Deja couldn't see clearly what was going on, the demon was partially in the way—

"Dean!" Sam shouted. "No!"

Deja saw Dean bleeding from his chest, the blood coming right through his shirt, and her heart lodged in her throat as Dean panted, the blood just picking up speed in it's flow.

"Dean!" Deja nearly shrieked, pushing back against the force that held her immobile. "Dean!"

"Dad!" Dean cried out, looking up at John as the blood started to come from his mouth as well. His face was twisted in pain and fear and emotional agony, but he still reached out to his father. "Dad, don't you let it kill me!" Dean pleaded, and Deja felt tears pool in her eyes.

Dean arched against the wall as a fresh wave of stronger pain hit him, his blood soaking his shirt.

"Dean!" Sam and Deja both shouted, and Deja gathered all the will she had to fight back against this demon's hold on her, pushing back with her desperation to reach Dean.

She was not going to watch Dean die in front of her eyes.

Not Dean.

Never Dean.

Deja shouted in pain at the raw effort it took for her to start to peel herself off the wall, and had Dean not been bleeding out in front of her very eyes, withering in pain but trapped in place by some unforgiving force, she would have been proud that the demon had to turn more towards her and divide some of its attention to her in order to force her back against the wall, face contorting into a brief sneer as a brief struggle of wills occurred between them, lights in the room surging and flickering as they pushed against one another until at last she caved and was slammed full force into the wall, now completely immobile but moved slightly so she could see Dean perfectly clear.

The blood was pouring from his chest at an alarming rate, and she could see the fear clearly in his eyes as it streamed down his chest to the floor and it bubbled past his lips, choking him.

"Dean!" she cried, tears slipping out of her eyes as she fought in vain against what held her in place, desperate to go to him as she started to hyperventilate to the point she was choking on her own breaths.

Please, God, I can't watch him die, I can't watch anyone else die, God, please, no, don't let him die, he can't die!

She could see him fading, slipping, rapidly losing the fight, gasping for air and sucking in blood with the oxygen as his heart seemed to try and liquify through his chest. Dean lifted his head, blood now streaming from his lips and tears in his eyes as he looked his possessed father in the eyes.

"Dad, please," he begged.

He arched again, his cry of pain so intense that though his mouth made the movements, no sound came but that of him choking on his blood. His entire shirt was stained red now, blood everywhere, streaming down his chin, jaw, and throat, and then...

Dean's eyelids fluttered closed, and he sagged, head dropping to his chest, blood dribbling from his mouth to the floor.

"Dean!" Deja screamed, drawing the word out in one long go no matter how many times her voice cracked, the sound coming out as an almost inhuman shriek if his name hadn't been recognizable in that sound. Lightbulbs popped and went out, sparks showering down on them and in several other rooms as she arched halfway off the wall before being slammed back into place. "Dean!"

"Stop...stop it!" she heard John's voice say, and for a brief moment, Deja felt herself released from the force that held her to the wall.

Sam also seemed to be freed as well, the two people requiring less of the demon's attention at the moment freed, but Dean remaining pinned to the wall, unmoving.

She could lunge for the gun on the table, or for Dean in a vain attempt to put herself between the demon and him.

She chose Dean.

As Sam grabbed the gun, Deja lunged towards Dean, uncaring that it brought her closer to the demon as she stood in front of Dean, shielding his body with her own and now seeing that Sam had the demon at gunpoint again.

"You kill me, you kill daddy," the demon snarled at Sam.

"I know," Sam snapped, then aimed lower, shooting John in the leg.

Lightning flashed, and John's leg gave out as he fell to the ground. As soon as his body hit the wooden floor, Dean was abruptly released from the wall, and Deja turned in time to catch him, going down with his full weight on her and ending up on her knees, pulling the blood-soaked man into her arms as she sat up, his blood staining her skin almost instantly while she pulled him carefully into her lap.

Dean gasped in air, choking around the blood and weakly starting to fight back against whatever was still holding him.

"Dean, Dean, it's me, take it easy, you're gonna be okay, you're gonna be fine," Deja managed to say, voice jagged as she stumbled over several words, fighting tears and a throat repeatedly closing with emotion. Dean stopped fighting her when he heard her voice, looking up at her with pain-hazed eyes.

"D-Deja?" he rasped, trying to clear his throat. Deja shifted him fully into her lap, one arm supporting him while the other pulled away, red with the blood that soaked his shirt, to run through his hair and tenderly brush down the side of his face.

"It's okay..." she murmured, interrupted as Sam reached them and broke through the bubble Deja's panic induced state had created around her and Dean.

"Dean...oh, God, you lost a lot of blood," Sam observed.

"Where's Dad?" Dean asked him, trying to get his bearing and breath now.

"He's right here, he's right here, Dean," Sam assured him, nodding to John's fallen form just behind him.

"Go check on him," Dean rasped, struggling to keep consciousness.

"Dean..." Sam said softly.

"Go check on him," Dean repeated, though his voice was closer to a broken plea this time. Deja ran her fingers through his hair again, cradling his head in her lap.

"I've got him," Deja assured Sam, a few tears still slipping out of her eyes after the scare she'd just had. "I've got him, go check on your dad," she told Sam, and Sam reluctantly dragged himself away from Dean to approach John.

Deja continued running her fingers through Dean's hair, feeling the short strands slip against her skin one by one as she held Dean securely to her, refusing to let go. He didn't fight her—he couldn't even if he wanted to—but instead fell back into her arms, breathing shallow and labored. She was still trying to reassure herself that he was going to be okay, but that was hard to do when she could feel the warmth of his blood spreading and could see how much there was, how much he'd lost.

"Dad?" Sam said hesitantly as he approached John's fallen form. "Dad?"

Even Deja jumped when John suddenly lunged upwards, lying on the ground like he was pinned there in the same manner Deja, Sam, and Dean had been pinned to the walls moments ago. "Sammy!" John shouted. "It's still alive! It's inside me, I can feel it! You shoot me! You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it, now!"

To Deja's mortification, Sam clicked the safety off and aimed the colt at John.

"Sam, don't you do it! Don't you do it!" Dean pled weakly, straining against Deja's grip despite the fact he could hardly lift his head.

"Sam, don't!" Deja said much louder.

"You've got to hurry!" John begged. "I can't hold onto it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I'm begging you, we can end this here and now! Sammy! You kill me!"

"Sam, no!" Dean gasped, the words barely able to make it past his lips.

"You do this! Sammy!"

Sam started to lower the gun, inch by inch, until finally it was resting at his side. Deja closed her eyes in relief, holding Dean closer. "He's not going to, he's not going to—take it easy, Dean, take it easy, it's all right, it's okay..." she murmured.

"Sam...Sam..." John practically whimpered, before the plume of black smoke finally erupted out of him, snaking away under the boards of the little wooden cabin they were in. Sam, Dean, and Deja just watched it go, no one moving to stop it.

The demon wasn't what was important right now.

Some prices were too high to pay.

They were not going to trade Dean and John for revenge.

And Sam or John had decided to trade Dean for revenge for whatever reason, they would have had to pry Dean from her cold, dead fingers.

John collapsed against the wooden floor, unable to even look at Sam now, but Deja didn't care. There was only one thing on her mind right now, and that was the man in her arms.

"Sam—we need to get to a hospital, now. He's lost too much blood," Deja told Sam, her thumb absently stroking Dean's cheek. Sam didn't move at first, stuck between his ashamed father and his dying brother. "Sam!"

That snapped him out of it, and finally Sam turned towards Dean and Deja. "Can you carry him?" Sam asked as he helped Deja and Dean both to their feet.

"I can make it to the car. As soon as they're in that vehicle, take off, I'll be right behind you," Deja told Sam, wrapping Dean's arm around her shoulders once she was on her feet and shifting all of his weight onto her. It was difficult, but she still had adrenaline to draw off of.

Sam went to his father's side, helping John up, but Deja didn't wait to see how that was going to go down, trudging forward with Dean barely able to move his own feet to help.

"Don't strain yourself, Dean, save your strength," she told him in a low murmur, practically carrying him out the cabin's door at a painfully slow pace. "You're gonna be okay, just save your strength..."

"Deja..." Dean murmured as they reached the Impala. Deja shushed him.

"No, no, none of that, you're gonna be fine we'll just..." Deja propped the door open and then eased him into the back seat, helping him get situated as he sagged against the black leather. She crouched down beside the open door, gazing up into his green eyes, dark green eyes not only because of the lack of light but also the pain that was currently clouding them. Tenderly, she placed a hand to the side of his face, and he closed his eyes, leaning into the motion with blood-stained lips slightly parted. She turned her hand over, running the backs of her fingers down his cheek and following the motion with her eyes before meeting his once more. "You're going to be okay. Just hang on, Dean. Hang on. I'll see you soon, all right?" she told him sincerely, running her fingers through his hair one last time as she registered Sam and John limping out of the cabin and headed for the driver's and passenger's side of the Impala respectively. That was her cue to pull away, and she did so with great reluctance, shutting the door for Dean and, after one last long look into his eyes, hurrying to her Corvette so she wouldn't be far behind them on the road.

He'll be okay, he'll be okay, he's not going to die, he's not going to die, you're not going to watch anyone else die, not tonight, and definitely not him.

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

Sam didn't drive in quite a reckless manner as Deja wanted him to. She wanted to see the Impala leaping over hills like when Dean had driven the out of Salvation. But at the same time, she also knew that would be bad for the injured people inside the car, so she tempered her impatience and stayed behind the car, watching the mile markers tick by and silently counting how many more miles they had to go before they hospital.

Roughly eleven minutes out.

Deja stared at the car ahead of her, trying to see Dean's slumped form from her car in the darkness, but it was a fruitless endeavor—she couldn't see anything.

Please, please, God, let him be okay, she kept silently praying, trying to stave off the fresh images of Dean bleeding out in front of her while she was powerless to watch.

That was so close to how her father died, she couldn't bear to see it happen to Dean. It was an indescribable pain she thought she would only experience once in her life, but instead she had experienced it again watching Dean slowly dying.

She couldn't lose him.

If there was anything this horrible experience had taught her...she was already in too deep.

She could not lose Dean Winchester—it was liable to break her, despite all of her efforts the past several months to keep distance between them. She cared too deeply, and now she—

Screeching metal grated on Deja's ears, a massive form in the darkness coming out of nowhere, it seemed, and ramming into the car in front of her, plowing it right off of the road head first. Well ingrained instincts were the only thing that saved Deja from driving right underneath the massive form and having her head ripped off in the process. She yanked the steering wheel to the side, narrowly missing the trailer of the semi that had emerged from the darkness, but also putting her own Corvette into an out of control spin. Thankfully, by the time she was spinning the semi was off the road, though she didn't stop spinning until her car hit hard in the ditch, and Deja slammed against her seat belt, the breath leaving her in one go and the whiplash coming rather instantly. She sat there, perfectly still as her mind tried to make sense of what had just happened in front of her, fingers white-knuckling the steering wheel and feeling sticky warmth in several different places she couldn't make sense of right now.

A semi...had come out of the woods at full speed...and plowed right into the side of the Impala without stopping, pushing the car right off of the road. And the only reason she hadn't lost her head going under the trailer at deadly speeds was she sent herself into a spin...and had ended up in the ditch.

The Impala and the semi-truck were well off the road behind her, and it was utter silence other than the hiss of crashed car engines and a radio still playing music.

The Impala...got hit by a semi...going top speeds.

The Impala.

Deja ripped the seatbelt off of her and shoved her door open, staggering out of the Corvette and almost falling to her knees several times in the process, one word ripping its way out of her throat.

"Dean!"