"So, you really feel okay?"

Sam, Dean, and Deja were all in the nearest hospital, waiting for the doctor to come back and either confirm or deny that Dean had been healed yesterday by the reverend. Dean had said, repeatedly, that he didn't feel like shit anymore, and he even looked better, no more dark circles under his eyes or waxy complexion.

But he hadn't stopped frowning. Nor had Deja.

Even now, while Sam paced from excitement and nerves, Deja remained leaning against the wall by the window, chewing lightly at her nail and brows furrowed in deep thought. Dean sat a foot away from her on the examination table, unmoving as he stared at something only he could see.

"I feel fine, Sam," Dean responded in a mostly emotionless tone, just a hint of weariness showing through.

All three of them looked up when the doctor returned, flipping through a few pages she had on her clipboard. "Well, uh…according to all your tests, there's nothing wrong with your heart. No sign there ever was. Not that a man your age should be having heart trouble, but, ah…still, it's strange, it does happen."

Sam looked euphoric with relief, and Deja herself did feel joy bloom inside her that Dean was okay…

Dean was going to be okay.

But the feeling was quickly overshadowed by the concern she still felt over what exactly had happened at the reverend's tent.

Dean's gaze fixated on the woman before him, focusing intently on the last thing she'd said.

"What do you mean, strange?" he asked. The doctor sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Oh, just yesterday, a young guy like you, twenty-seven, athletic…out of nowhere, heart attack."

Dean's eyes widened slightly at the news, but he cast his gaze down.

"Thanks, Doc," Dean said softly, jaw flexing as what must have been a thousand thoughts flashed through his mind.

"No problem."

Once the doctor was gone, Dean looked up at Sam, fixing him with an intense stare. "That's odd."

"Maybe it's a coincidence," Sam said defensively, and Deja gave him a seriously look from where she was leaning against the wall. "People's hearts give out all the time, man."

"No, they don't," Dean said sternly.

"Look, Dean, do we really have to look this one in the mouth? Why can't we just be thankful that the guy saved your life and move on?"

"Because I can't shake this feeling, that's why," Dean snapped, rising to his feet.

"What feeling?" Sam asked when Dean turned away to pull his coat on.

"When I was healed, I just-I felt wrong. I felt cold, and for a second…I saw someone, this, uh…this old man, and I'm telling you, Sam, it was a spirit."

Deja nodded at his description, looking over at Sam. "I'm with Dean on this one, Sam. Something was definitely wrong there. I didn't see anything, but I sure as hell could feel it. There was some seriously dark magic going on there."

"How do you know it was magic, specifically?" Dean asked, turning to face her.

"Dark magic has a distinct feel, like a vengeful spirit has a different feel from a malicious spirit. Whatever's up there, I don't think it's God's work."

Sam looked exasperated. "You think it's a spirit, you think it's dark magic—maybe neither of you are willing to accept that something good happened for once." Sam gestured towards Dean. "If there was something there, Dean, I think I would have seen it too. I mean, I've been seeing an awful lot of things lately."

"Well, excuse me, psychic wonder. But you're just going to need a little faith on this one," Dean returned, a little bit of a bite to his words before he lowered his voice to a calmer level. "Sam, I've been hunting long enough to trust a feeling like this. And Deja's feelings have been pretty spot on since she tagged along as well."

Sam sighed, looking away from Dean's intense gaze. He was outnumbered in this case, and even if he was still insistent to believe nothing bad was going on, Dean and Deja would probably still investigate on their own. "Yeah, all right. So, what do you want to do?" Sam finally relented.

"Why don't you go check out the heart attack guy, I'm gonna visit the reverend," Dean said, already moving to the door.

"I can drive you to the reverend's—Sam can take the Impala so he doesn't have to walk, cause I'm not giving him the keys to my car. No one drives Rosanne but me," Deja stated, straightening from her spot against the wall.

"Yeah, whatever, Dean muttered, stepping out of the room. Deja shared a quick glance with Sam before following Dean outside, keeping her comments to herself since, at least to her, it was obvious this entire ordeal bothered Dean, maybe even had him a little rattled.

It bothered her, too.

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

While Dean went inside to speak with the reverend, Deja remained on the steps to the front door, leaning against the left side railing and staring out at the wide expanse of field and trees beyond the church tent. As much as she wanted to be inside with Dean for moral support, this part of their little trip was personal. Dean might have only said that this visit would be to question the reverend, but she was rather confident that the why me inside him was probably begging to be asked. His tough guy persona most likely wouldn't allow him to ask that vulnerable question while she was there. So, she decided to remain outside, and let not only whether or not he asked the question but also the reverend's answer, remain a mystery to her.

Besides, she had her own reasons and beliefs for why he'd been picked. Maybe Layla had been onto something when she said God works in mysterious ways.

Maybe the answer to her prayers had been a little good among the bad. What were the chances that, when Dean had less than a month to live, they find this healer, and he picks the dying hunter that will probably only be at this one meeting, to heal? It wasn't a coincidence—there were no such things as coincidences, not in Deja's mind.

Perhaps…they'd been set on this path not only to stop someone who was possibly doing evil under God's name…but also to answer the prayers that begged for a way to heal Dean.

Tone it down, there, Deja. Don't bring too much religion into this, she told herself. Maybe it was the entire church atmosphere in this place, the faith-related resonance in this entire situation, that was bringing this side of her out more than normal. Usually it was a passive belief—she only turned to religion when things were extra difficult, because the rest of the time she got by with what she could do by herself.

Dean being put on death row…that had been an extreme circumstance she'd known was going to need some faith in more than just herself.

Still…she wasn't an extremist, or one of the deeply devout that brought religion into everything. She believed, in her own way, but she went to no church, she was no regular scripture reader or praying person, and it wasn't a normal conversation topic for her.

She believed, but she didn't really talk about it, and she didn't think about it much.

Deja looked over when she heard someone approaching, spotting Layla making her way to the house. The other woman reached the stairs about the same time that Dean left the house, a pensive expression gracing his features. Layla looked up in surprise to see him, and Deja took a few steps down the stairs so that Dean could stand even with the other blonde.

"Dean—hey," Layla said once Dean had turned to face her, Deja took up a spot at Dean's side once the two stopped moving, giving Layla a small smile in greeting.

"Hey," Dean responded, glancing between the two blondes.

"How are you feeling?" Layla asked him. Dean gestured to the house behind him.

"I feel good—cured, I guess. What are you doing here?"

"You know, my mom, she wanted to talk to the reverend," Layla said as her mother reached the stairs. The reverend's wife, Sue-Anne, appeared in the doorway, taking in the sight of the mini crowd that had gathered on her steps.

"Layla," Sue-Anne said with a patient sigh. Layla turned to face the reverend's wife, making her way up the steps with her mother close behind her, while Dean and Deja started to quietly take their leave.

"Yes, I'm here again," Layla stated, almost apologetically.

"Well, I'm sorry, but Roy's resting, he won't be seeing anyone else right now," Sue-Anne said politely. Dean and Deja stopped at the base of the stairs, Deja's eyebrows raising in surprise at the casual dismissal as she and Dean turned to look at the scene unraveling in front of them.

"Sue-Anne, please—this is our sixth time, he's got to see us!" Layla's mother said desperately.

"Roy's well aware of Layla's situation, and he very much wants to help, just as soon as the Lord allows." The look that Dean gave the reverend's wife was so full of skepticism and judgement, Deja thought it was equal to Sue-Anne being thrown into court with him as the judge, jury, and jailor. Though she couldn't judge him much for it—she had a similar expression. Dean had literally just seen the reverend—Sue-Anne seemed to be making up an excuse and hiding behind the Lord to avoid them. "Have faith, Ms. Rourke."

Apparently, that was their dismissal, and a rather demeaning one with the way Sue-Anne had spoken down to them in Deja's opinion, as Sue-Anne glided back into her home without another word, leaving Layla and her mother standing on the steps. Layla's mother turned, looking ready to storm off with fury in her gaze when her gaze landed on Dean, and suddenly that fury morphed to barely contained hate, and all of it was focused on Dean. Dean leaned back instinctively at the look he was pinned with, and Deja took an instinctive defensive step closer to her friend.

"Why are you still even here?" Layla's mother accused him, and Dean opened his mouth to defend himself, but she cut him off before any sound could make it past his lips. "You got what you wanted."

"Mom. Stop," Layla intervened, trying to spare Dean from her mother's outlash.

"No, Layla, this is too much! We've been to every single service. If Roy would stop choosing these strangers over you! Strangers who don't even believe." Again, she pinned Dean with a contemptuous look. Dean shifted uncomfortably, and Deja's hand moved to rest on his arm, though whether it was from protectiveness or to act as some sort of comfort against the woman's scathing remarks, she wasn't quite sure. "I just can't pray any harder."

Dean eyed Layla's mother for a moment before turning his attention to the blonde woman. "Layla, what's wrong?"

Layla gave him an almost rehearsed smile, sighing. "I have this thing…"

"It's a brain tumor," Layla's mother said, turning away rather melodramatically as she spoke in a detached tone of voice. All eyes were suddenly fixated on her. "It's inoperable. In six months, the doctors say—"

"Mom…" Layla said softly, cutting her mother off and putting a hand on her shoulder in comfort. Deja and Dean both looked at Layla with expressions of sympathy and remorse.

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly.

"It's okay," Layla told him graciously.

"No, it isn't," her mother stated flatly. She turned to fix Dean with that contemptuous look once more, though this time it made a little more sense—she was angry and frustrated that LeGrange wasn't healing her daughter, and as a result, she was turning that pent up fury into hatred towards the people he was healing, and right now Dean was the closest and most recent one. "Why do you deserve to live more than my daughter?" she accused.

Out of Dean's line of vision, Deja flinched, thinking of how he'd tried to persuade the reverend in the tent to heal someone else because he hadn't thought he deserved to be healed, didn't think he was worth it. Having that directed towards him probably wasn't helping. As Layla and her mother walked away, Deja momentarily tightened her grip on Dean's arm, unintentionally drawing his attention. He took a breath to steady himself, jaw flexing before he slipped on a joking mask and tried to ignore the somber vibes in the air.

"You squeeze my arm any harder, it's going to fall off. What's with the death grip?"

"Hm?" Deja hummed distractedly, then realized how weird the contact was for the two of them—especially now that Layla and her mother had left—and let her hand drop away. "Oh, sorry."

Pulling her jacket closer to her as a cold breeze wafted by, Deja dodged the question, moving to business instead and starting their trek back to her car. "So, did you find out anything worth mentioning from the reverend? You were in there for a while."

Dean gave her a sidelong look that told her he knew she was dodging the question, but he let it slide. "He apparently had cancer, it was fatal, he went into a coma the doctors said he wouldn't wake up from, but he did with no trace of the cancer left in him, other than the blindness. He discovered he could heal people after that."

"That all worth mentioning?" Deja asked.

"Pretty much," Dean said with a shrug. Deja gave a slow nod, then casually through the question into the air between them, letting her curiosity get the best of her.

"Did you ask him why he picked you?"

Dean blinked, taken aback by the question, but still retaining his wits enough to try and be shifty about his answer. "Maybe…"

"Figured you would."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "Oh, you know me so well?" he asked skeptically as they reached her car.

"Well enough to suspect as much," Deja replied easily, opening the driver's door. "Now come on—let's go see what Sam found."

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

Dean was uncharacteristically quiet on the car ride back to the hotel, but considering the conversation they had just come back from with Layla and her mother, Deja was willing to let it slide and leave the topic alone. She did switch out her Avril Lavigne music for one of her classic rock cds, leaning towards his music preferences for his sake as a small gesture of comfort.

Dean wasn't exactly the person to talk about feelings, anyway—nor was she. But she could still make gestures to help him feel better, or at least let him know she was there as support.

When they entered the boys' hotel room, Dean was noticeably tired, though she liked to think that he was a little more energized than he would have been had he made the trip alone. Throwing his jacket on his bed, he and Deja made their way to where Sam sat at a small table in the room's kitchen area, a small stack of papers beside him and his laptop open in front of him.

"What did you find out?" Dean asked, coming to a stop by the table's other chair.

"I'm sorry…" Sam said quietly, not looking Dean or Deja in the eyes. Deja's stomach dropped. Whatever this was, wasn't going to help Dean's mood at all.

"Sorry about what?" Dean asked, eyeing his brother warily.

"Marshall Hall died at four seventeen," Sam replied, still not meeting their gaze. Dean stared his brother down.

"The exact time I was healed."

Sam finally looked up, meeting Dean's gaze as he picked up the small stack of papers next to him and handed them over to Dean. "Yeah. So, I put together a list. Everyone Roy's healed, six people over the past year, and I cross-checked them with the local obits. Every time someone was healed, someone else died. I mean, each time the victim died of the same symptom LeGrange is healing at the time."

Dean took a seat while Deja took the spot he'd just been standing in, looking at the two Winchesters with a concerned frown on her face.

"So, someone's healed of cancer, someone else dies of cancer?" Dean clarified.

"Somehow. LeGrange…" Sam heaved a sigh. "…is trading a life for another."

"Wait, wait, wait, so…Marshall Hall died to save me?" Dean asked, leaning back as anger started to rise in his expression.

"Dean…the guy probably woulda died anyway, and someone else would have been healed," Sam tried to amend, but Dean looked away, still upset.

That's not the point, Sam, Deja thought, though she kept the comment to herself. Dean rose from his seat, walking towards the beds.

"You never should have brought me here."

"Dean, I was just trying to save your life," Sam said quietly as Deja moved out of Dean's way.

"But Sam, some guy is dead now, because of me!" Dean shouted.

"I didn't know…"

Dean relented at his younger brother's soft-spoken statement. Sam really hadn't—he'd thought the guy was legit. None of the blame should be put on his shoulders. After a moment of silence that gave Dean enough time to regain his composure, Sam spoke again. "The thing I don't understand, is how is Roy doing it? H-how is he trading a life for a life?"

"Oh, he's not doing it," Dean said cryptically, pacing back into the kitchen. "Something else is doing it for him."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, confused.

"The old man I saw on stage. I didn't wanna believe it, but deep down, I knew it."

"You knew what? What are you talking about?"

Dean splayed his hands on top of the table's surface, leaning forward to emphasize his next to sentences to his brother. "There's only one thing that can give and take life like that. We're dealing with a reaper."

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

Dean, Deja, and Sam threw themselves into the lore almost immediately, even going a little further back to look at the other cases where LeGrange had healed anyone to see if there were any extra details that could help them in the past cases. There wasn't much luck on the past cases front, but they were gathering quite a bit of lore on reapers from all corners of the globe.

So far into the research, Dean had to take a break, disappearing outside with a beer in hand. Deja watched him go and let him be for a few minutes before she excused herself as well. Outside of the hotel room, Deja's appearance caught Dean's attention, though she didn't go right towards where he sat leaning against the front of the Impala. Instead she went back to her room before emerging with her tequila bottle and two glasses, only then approaching him.

"You look like you could use something stronger," Deja commented softly, offering him one of the glasses.

"That bad, hmm?" he asked, taking the offered glass and watching as she leaned against the car beside him.

"Well, you have had quite the rough few days, with the whole…dying and everything…" she said with a weary sigh, pouring a decent amount of tequila into his glass.

"I wasn't going to bring it up."

Deja shrugged. "We don't have to go into specifics."

Dean took a sip of the tequila. "Well…there are specifics about something I would like," he admitted, looking over at her. "I've thought about it for a while now, and I'm still not entirely sure what it was…"

Deja's eyebrows rose, and she stared at him curiously. "Out with it, man, I'm listening."

Dean gave her his little half-smile before it faded into seriousness, and he fixed all of his attention on her. "When we were in Roy's tent, you were…off, real tense. Your hand was sweaty, too. And that...move, itself was…unexpected, to say the least. What was going on with you?"

"Ah…so we are going to talk about it," Deja said quietly, looking down at her own glass. "I was beginning to think neither of us were going to bring it up."

She wasn't going to answer him, at first, but when she finally looked up at him again he was still watching her expectantly. Sighing, she decided to relent…but only a little. "I've…never really been one for churches. Sure, I believe in my own, strange little way, and my family went all the time…but I'm not really comfortable in church settings. I always felt like…like I was naked under a microscope. That would be a good way of describing it."

"And the…other thing?" Dean prompted when she didn't continue. Deja sighed.

"Right…that. I wasn't trying to get you to go on stage, or about to profess my undying love, or anything like that, if that's what you thought it was. I was just…I don't know. I kind of did it without thinking. When I looked at you, you had this look in your eyes, and it…reminded me of something I've felt on multiple occasions. I guess I reacted instinctively on the off chance that it was the same look I've had before."

"What did you think you saw?"

Deja gave a short laugh. "That is a can of worms I am not ready to try opening yet, Dean…sorry."

"Okay then…so it was a comfort thing?" Dean asked after a moment of silence. Deja inclined her head in his direction.

"Yeah, I guess it was sort of a silent comfort and support thing."

Dean simply nodded—he didn't say anything, and Deja didn't push him too. It was already strange having a conversation with him that veered closer in the emotional direction of things, she wasn't about to ask him to make it even more personal.

The thank you had been in the moment he'd held her hand in return. She didn't need Dean to voice it, because he'd already shown it.

They stayed quiet after that, sipping on their respective glasses of tequila and looking up at the sky as mutual companions.

They'd return inside to Sam and the research when they were ready.

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

After so long searching the lore to figure out what was going on in LeGrange's church, Sam finally spoke up, tearing his gaze from his laptop's screen.

"You really think it's the grim reaper? Like, angel of death, collect your soul, the whole deal?" he asked Dean, who was buried in articles with their father's journal on his knee. Deja sat cross-legged on Dean's bed with her book of dark magic and her hunter's journal open on her lap, looking into her suspected magic angle while the boys were looking into reapers and feeding her any relevant information or important facts.

"No, no, no, not the reaper, a reaper," Dean corrected him. "There's reaper lore in pretty much every culture on earth. They go by a hundred different names—it's possible that there's more than one of them."

"But you said you saw a dude in a suit," Sam said skeptically.

"What, you think he should have been working the whole black robe thing?" When Sam only continued to look skeptical, Dean put down what was currently in his hands and turned all of his attention on his younger brother. "You said it yourself that the clock stopped, right?"

Dean picked up one of the images they'd had printed out from one of the articles they'd found on reapers. "Reapers stop time. And you can only see them when they're coming at you, which is why I could see it and the two of you couldn't."

"Why am I being brought into this?" Deja muttered under her breath, hardly looking up from what she was doing.

"Maybe…" Sam murmured, looking back down at his laptop.

"There's nothing else it could be, Sam! The question is, how's Roy controlling the damn thing?"

"Magic, obviously," Deja piped up. The boys both looked up at her expectantly, now that she'd thrown her two cents into their debate, and she stood up from where she sat on the bed, bringing her own research collection with her, coming to stand by Dean. "I felt dark magic in that tent when you were healed, I've said that from the start. It's possible that LeGrange used some sort of binding spell on the reaper so it has to do his bidding. Unfortunately, I can't get much farther than that, because I have no idea where to start with what kind of binding spell he used—I just know it'd have to be something ancient and powerful to keep a reaper under his thumb, and I don't have anything like that regarding reapers in my nifty little record book, here," she huffed, waving the black magic book dismissively through the air before moving to set it on the kitchen counter.

"That cross…"

Deja and Dean both looked at Sam. "What?" Dean asked.

"There was this cross, I…I noticed it in the church tent, I knew I'd seen it before…" Sam reached into the pile of stuff he and his brother were encircled with, pulling out a deck of tarot cards and quickly shuffling through them before he pulled one out and handed it to Dean. "Here."

"A tarot?" Dean asked, looking at the adorned card in his hand that depicted a robed skeleton with a cross Deja guessed was what Sam was referencing. Deja gently pulled the card from Dean's hand, frowning.

"Shit…" she murmured.

"It makes sense—I mean, tarot dates back to the early Christian era, right, when some priests were still using magic, and a few of them veered into the dark stuff? Necromancy, and how to push death away, how to…cause it," Sam said with a frustrated sigh, sitting back in his chair.

"So, Roy's using black magic to bind the reaper?" Dean asked, clearly looking for someone to confirm it.

"If that's the case, we're dealing with some serious, risky, unstable shit, here. I only wish I'd seen the cross in the tent, I wasn't really paying attention to the décor…could have caught this sooner," Deja muttered.

"If he is, he's riding the whirlwind—it's like putting a dog leash on a great white," Sam added.

"Accurate depiction," Deja said, wagging a finger at the younger Winchester.

Dean slammed one of the articles he'd been holding back onto the table, grabbing his coffee cup and abruptly rising to his feet. Deja moved out of the way so her could reach the sink, standing a foot away from him as he turned to face the other two, leaning against the counter. "Okay, then we stop Roy."

"How?" Sam asked. Dean seemed to stare his little brother down.

"You know how," he said firmly.

"Wait, what the hell are you talking about, Dean? We can't kill Roy," Sam stressed. Deja remained an awkward bystander, gaze sliding between the two Winchesters.

"Sam, the guy's playing God, he's deciding who lives and who dies, that's a monster in my book," Dean snapped.

"No, we're not going to kill a human being, Dean! We do that, we're no better than he is," Sam replied firmly. To Deja's dismay, Dean turned to her for backup.

"Deja?" he asked, looking at her expectantly. Suddenly everyone's attention was on her, and she looked at both their expectant expressions before she replied carefully.

"I think we need to figure out what's going on, first. If I can get a look at what spell he's using to bind the reaper I might be able to find out how to break it without killing anyone. And I'm willing to bet whatever the spell is, it's a complicated enough ritual he won't be able to replicate it without the instructions. This is serious stuff, he's gotta have a copy of it somewhere. Break the spell, no more playing God, and we don't have to kill anyone," she mediated, looking at each Winchester in turn. "My only issue is he's blind and can't read a written word that isn't brail by himself."

"Unless he does have the spell memorized and he read it before he went blind," Dean countered.

"Then how did he heal himself in a coma, Mouth?" she asked pointedly, eyebrows raised. Dean stared at her intently.

"You think Sue-Anne is involved, don't you?"

"Someone had to read the spell or at least carry it out. And LeGrange is ground zero for all this healing business. Yes, I think Miss Holier-Than-Thou is involved."

"Holier than thou?" Sam echoed. Deja shrugged.

"She gives me that vibe—I've known a lot of them, they drive me crazy…Self-righteous pricks," she muttered.

"All right, back on point," Dean ordered, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "So, we've got to do something about this—someone needs to get a peek into that house."

"LeGrange has another service coming up—there won't be anyone inside, then," Deja suggested.

"She's right. But while one of us sneaks in, someone else should make sure LeGrange doesn't heal anyone else," Sam pointed out.

"I can stall LeGrange, Sam, you can be the one carrying out some B and E this time, Deja…" Dean said, trailing off when he came around to her.

"Either I can be a lookout for Sam or I can help you with the God Squad," she offered. Dean shook his head.

"Nah, go ahead and be Sam's lookout, I've got this."

Deja nodded. "Then I guess we have our game plan.

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

"Where there is a spell, there is a spell book. Keep your eyes peeled, Sam," Deja advised the younger Winchester as the three made their way through the mud towards LeGrange's tent and house.

"Hurry up, too, the service starts in fifteen minutes," Dean added, checking his watch. "I'll try to stall Roy."

The same man who had been protesting when they'd brought Dean to be healed suddenly stepped into their way, a stack of flyers in hand. "Roy LeGrange is a fraud, he's no healer."

"Amen, brother," Dean replied before he slipped into the crowd pouring towards the tent. Sam actually took a flyer.

"You keep up the good work," Sam told him before making his way towards the house. Deja followed after him, quickly spotting the officers that were lingering around LeGrange's home, probably because LeGrange hadn't left the house yet. She sighed, tapping Sam's arm.

"I've got this, go ahead and go the other way," she assured him, giving her hair a fuller look and shifting her jeans to a lower position on her hips, shifting her shirt to tease a little skin. As she approached the officers, she gave them her best dazzling smile, hooking her thumbs into her belt loops.

Good looks can suck when the attention is unwanted, but it can definitely work to my advantage when I want it to.

"I saw you two over here and just wanted to come and say that the work you do protecting Reverend LeGrange is so appreciated. It helps all of us feel a little safer, knowing someone's protecting God's people…"

She started with the simple flirty motions, keeping her motions subtle but still enough to be distracting or attention grabbing. The conversation quickly drifted away from church like things once she'd broken the ice, and she kept the flirtations coming until she saw Sam crawl out the window of the house behind the two officers. At that point she smiled, then looked back towards the tent.

"I should probably go, or I'll miss the service—I'll see you two around," she stated, biting her lower lip before she turned and sauntered away. She waited until she was out of their sight to double back and make her way back towards Sam. She almost ran into him just outside the parking lot.

"Sam! Did you find anything?" she asked, not offering any resistance when he gently grabbed her arm and started directing her elsewhere.

"Yes, but we can talk about it later. That protester is next on the list, and we've got to find him."

As much as she wanted to ask what list and what else he'd found, Deja kept her questions to herself for the time being and followed him deeper into the parking lot, looking around and seeing no movement other than that caused by the slight breeze.

"Roy's really picking up the pace with his healing, isn't he? His treatments aren't as spaced out anymore," Deja commented as they quickly weaved through the cars.

"Yeah, well, more healed people means more bodies," Sam muttered. They both froze in place when they heard someone other than them shout near the back of the parking lot.

"Help!"

"Come on," Sam exclaimed, taking off at a sprint with his accursed longer legs. Deja had to work to keep up with him, but managed to hold her own with distance covered, making it to their marked protester two or three seconds after Sam.

"Help! Help me, please!" the man begged.

"Where is it?" Sam asked, looking wildly around. Deja was already pulling on the man to get him moving.

"It's right there!" the man shrieked, pointing right in front of them. Deja pushed him back.

"Not that we can do much other than move, get going!" Deja ordered, grabbing Sam to pull him along as well. "What about Dean?"

"He said he'll keep Roy from healing anyone—we just need to avoid this reaper until he stops Roy," Sam replied as they weaved through the cars, going off of where the panicked man kept looking for where not to run to.

Suddenly, the man stopped looking about like a wild animal, slowing down and moving almost like he was in a trance. Before the two could ask what was wrong with the man, Sam's phone went off.

"Dean?" Deja asked. Sam only nodded as he accepted the call.

"David?" Sam asked after a few seconds. "I think it's okay."

"How did you know David was next?" Deja finally asked, feeling that was the more important question at the moment.

"Newspaper clippings of people he thinks is immoral stuffed in this little spell book," Sam said distractedly.

"Newspaper clippings?" Deja echoed, whipping around to face him entirely.

"Yeah, so?" Sam asked, confused by her reaction.

"No!" the protester, David, suddenly gasped, slowly sinking to his knees in front of them, eyes fixated on something only he could see.

"Sam, Roy's blind!" Deja reminded him in exasperation, yanking the phone from his grasp. "Sue-Anne!" she nearly shouted into the phone. All she got in response was the click of the call ending a few seconds later.

David continued to sink to the ground, face draining of color, and they were powerless to stop it because they had no idea where the reaper was and physically couldn't stop it. They had to wait for Dean, he was the one who could actually do something about this.

Finally, to their relief, David sucked in a huge breath, his color returning as he fell back against the mud. Deja quickly kneeled beside the man, helping him sit up. "Are you all right? Is it really gone this time?" David could only nod in reply, so Deja gave him a small smile, patting his arm in reassurance. "Take your time, you're going to be all right now."

She stood up, looking at Sam. "Think you can handle him? I wanna see if Dean's all right—I don't think Her Self-Righteousness will appreciate being stopped in her work."

"I've got him, I'll meet you two at the car," Sam said with a brisk nod, and Deja started weaving back through the cars towards where people seemed to be gathering outside of the tent. She came around the back instead of up the main pathway to avoid attention, finding herself behind Dean as he and Layla parted ways. As Layla walked away and Deja approached behind Dean, she heard what he probably thought no one else would hear.

"You deserve it a lot more than me…"

Deja's heart panged, but she dared not let Dean know she'd heard something she hadn't been meant to hear. Instead, she waited a few seconds before she walked to his side, gently touching his arm to get his attention.

"Hey—Sam's taking care of our almost victim. You okay?" she asked, falling into step beside him as he started walking in the direction the Impala was parked.

"Hm? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just took the classic fire to get everyone out. Gave Sue-Anne a shock which much have broken her concentration."

"And thus stopped the reaper," Deja finished with a nod.

"Hey, how did you know to go for Sue-Anne?" Dean asked. Deja rolled her eyes.

"LeGrange is blind—and rather recently, too. No way he's reading newspapers and cutting out articles he can't even see. So, if it's not the reverend, it must be the wife."

Dean huffed. "Well…you were right."

"Of course I was."

"Don't go getting all high and mighty on us."

"Not me, that's Sue-Anne's job," Deja muttered, dropping her voice a little lower as they passed the reverend, his wife, and Layla's mother talking in a small circle not far from Dean's Impala.

"Private session tonight, no interruptions. I give you my word, I'll heal your daughter," LeGrange was telling Layla's mother.

"Thank you, reverend. God bless you," Layla's mother replied, and Deja noticed that Dean's eyes lingered on them for a few moments before he shook himself out of it and approached the car, where Sam was already waiting for them so they could leave.

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

"So, Roy really believes…"

Sam was sitting on his bed in the boys' hotel room, Dean pacing the room slowly and currently looking out the window, while Deja reclined on Dean's bed flipping through the spell book Sam had found, frequently glancing up to watch Dean pace. They were waiting until night fell to return to the reverend's house so that they could try and break the spell before anyone else got hurt, with Deja doing all the spell work research and getting ready to break it down into simpler terms for Sam and Dean.

Not that they were stupid, just so it would be quicker and easier to explain.

"I don't think he has any idea what his wife's doing," Dean told Sam, turning away from the window to continue his pacing.

And just think, you were the one who jumped right to let's kill him for a solution, Deja couldn't help but think before she studiously threw the thought away. Dean had enough problems right now without her adding any more blame to weigh down on his shoulders. He did that to himself enough as it was.

"Have you found anything in that book yet?" Dean asked Deja, and she looked up from her spot in the little book.

"Well…it's really old, written by a priest that got a little drunk on the dark arts—and that's putting it mildly—and it has, surprise, surprise, a binding spell for trapping a reaper."

"The way you were talking, it must be a hell of a spell," Dean commented, sitting beside her on the bed so he could peer at the book over her shoulder.

"Yeah…it starts with building a black alter—the whole nine yards with the specific bones and human blood, uhg, I don't see how some witches can stand to dabble in this dark stuff, I couldn't imagine trying to get this stuff. Some of it you'd have to be…pretty messed up and ruthless."

"To cross a line like that…that preacher's wife…" Sam sighed, shaking his head. "Black magic, murder…evil."

Dean's gaze unfocused slightly on the little book in Deja's hands he was reading over her shoulder, before looking up at Sam. "Desperate. Her husband was dying, she would have done anything to save him. She was using the binding spell to keep the reaper away from Roy."

Deja had to bite her tongue at that and keep her expression carefully controlled as Dean looked back at the book she'd shifted so they could both see it better. When Dean put it that way…it almost made Sam look hypocritical. Deja had been the one to draw the line that said nothing dark or demonic no matter how desperate they got.

"Cheating death…literally," Sam said with a soft laugh.

"Yeah, but Roy's alive, so why's she still using the spell?" Dean countered.

"Someone realized they had the power to choose who lives and dies and got a little drunk on that ability, in my opinion. It happens when you dabble with dark magic," Deja muttered, firmly clamping down on some dark memories that tried to rise at her statement.

She'd…seen some dark things in her lifetime. Things she couldn't forget, almost all of it involving dark magic.

"Right…to force the reaper to kill people she thinks are immoral," Sam agreed, shaking his head.

Dean heaved a sigh. "God save us from half the people who think they're doing God's work."

"Amen," Deja quipped.

"We've got to break that binding spell," Sam said with a shake of his head. Both boys turned to Deja, though Dean was looking at the book over her shoulder once more as she turned a page. He stopped her with a soft brush of his fingers against the back of her hand, then leaned over to point at the image on the new page.

"You know, Sue-Anne had a Coptic cross like this, and when she dropped it the reaper backed off," Dean commented.

"So, do we have to find the cross, or destroy the alter?" Sam asked before Deja could speak up.

"Both," she got out the same time Dean said it. They looked at her, and she rolled her eyes. "If you would listen to the person who specializes in this kind of thing, I could tell you."

"Well, by all means, professor," Dean retorted, gesturing for her to speak.

"The alter was definitely needed to summon the reaper, and was probably where the binding was carried out and the magic is wrought, and also probably where she sends the reaper after specific victims—you know, like a witch will have a picture or something of their victims when they're trying to hex them? This calls for the same sort of thing, so I would normally say that's what you should destroy. But she can't duck into wherever she has this alter every time LeGrange heals someone to command the reaper to carry out the give and take the exact same time LeGrange starts to heal—she needs something more portable, something she can pull out whenever she needs to, which is probably what the cross is. A portable control stick for the reaper, so she can summon and control it wherever, whenever. The alter is the setup, the cross the controller."

"You're basically saying destroy both, but with more words," Dean said flatly. Deja huffed.

"I was trying to explain it more."

"Just say, both, because they're both important in the spell, and make everyone's lives easier."

"Sorry…I guess I got a little too into it. I like to study this stuff to come up with ways to counteract it, remember?"

"Right…well, whatever we do, we better do it soon," Dean sighed, rising to his feet.

Deja nodded. "LeGrange is healing Layla tonight," she said quietly, closing the little book in her hand. "We're on a time limit."

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

Just before it got dark, Dean, Sam, and Deja all headed back to the reverend's place in the Impala, parking not far from the tent after darkness had already fallen. Sam was the first to speak.

"That's Layla's car—she's already here," he commented, nodding over towards the usual parking lot.

"Yeah…" Dean said shortly, though both Deja and Sam caught onto the fact that there was more emotion—negative emotion—in that simple word than there should have been.

"Dean…" Sam said quietly, already knowing what was coming.

"You know, if Roy would have picked Layla instead of me, she'd be healed right now," Dean said stiffly, staring out the front window.

"Dean, don't," Sam tried again, but Dean kept going.

"And if she's not healed tonight…she's going to die in a couple months."

Deja bowed her head in the back seat, resisting the urge to put a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder. She was pretty sure that wasn't what he wanted right now. Instead, she remained quiet while Sam took up the job of knocking a little sense into his brother, or at least stopping him from beating himself up so much.

"What's happening to her is horrible, but what are you going to do? Let somebody else die to save her? You said it yourself, Dean, you can't play God."

Dean was silent for a good few moments, and it got even harder for Deja to resist the instinct to try and comfort him. Luckily, before she could lose that battle, Dean got out of the car, which signaled the moment they all shoved the personal drama away for a little while and focused on their current job.

Quietly, the three made their way to the front of the tent, pulling back the flap just enough for them to peek inside. There was a small gathering of people, with Reverend LeGrange standing before them getting ready to start.

"Where's Sue-Anne?" Dean asked quietly as Layla made her way onto the stage inside the tent.

"House," Sam said definitely.

"Maybe…maybe somewhere else…we're going to have to look for her. We need to get that alter and that cross destroyed, not just one," Deja muttered as they let the flap fall back.

"Right…" Dean muttered. "Sam can check the house…I'll keep the cops occupied, they're bound to be lurking somewhere around here."

"I'll stay by the tent in case Sue-Anne makes an appearance," Deja finished, giving Dean a small smile. He nodded, clapping her on the shoulder briefly as a parting before he and Sam made their way towards the house. Deja shifted closer to the shadows, trying to get into a position where she could see if Sue-Anne came from the house or if anyone tried to enter or leave the tent, but Deja wasn't as easy to spot. Once she found somewhere she was satisfied with, she settled down and simply waited and listened.

She saw Dean run off towards the parking lot with the two cops from earlier hot on his heels, but she didn't worry—he'd lose them easily.

After Dean went by it got quiet again, and Deja simply stood in the shadows, waiting for something to happen, halfway hoping nothing would, that Sam would be able to quickly destroy alter and cross and they'd be done.

Of course, things were never that easy with the Winchesters—she was quickly learning that.

After so long standing in the dark, Deja noticed out of the corner of her eyes a light go out in the parking lot.

And then another. And another…

One by one, the lights went dark, going in the direction she'd seen Dean run in. Deja felt her heart skip a beat, her stomach clench in concern.

Dean stopping Sue-Anne might have put him at the top of her hit list. What if, to save Layla…

Deja scanned the immediate area one last time, and when she still didn't see Sue-Anne, she bolted, leaving the tent behind in favor of the parking lot.

And the closer she got, the more her danger sense kicked into high gear, telling her something was wrong, something dark was going on here.

Dean.

She had to weave around several cars, and at one point she even slid over a hood in her haste to find him as the entire parking lot went pitch black.

Finally, she rounded a corner, coming to a decently clear spot of the parking lot that was faintly lit by a fire crackling in a barrel—unattended, were these people trying to start a brush fire—and saw Dean, his back to her.

And slowly sinking to his knees in front of some invisible force, gasping for air between strangled grunts of pain.

"Dean!" Deja shouted, though of course he didn't react to her as she sprinted forward.

She couldn't see the reaper, she couldn't fight the reaper, but God damn it, she was going to try. She wasn't going to let it take Dean without a fight, not now.

When she reached him, he was almost as pale as he'd been in the hospital—she could even see it in the faint light of the fire—but she shoved that thought out of her mind as she grabbed onto the back of his jacket and pulled with all of her might, lugging him out of the reaper's grasp hopefully for a moment. He gasped and went lax for a second before stiffening in pain again, which caused her to tug again, yanking him back more.

"Damn it, Dean, we are not losing you to this!" she snapped, tugging again to try and bring him to his feet and a little further away from the invisible reaper. His weight was too much, though, and she ended up tripping and sprawling on the ground, mud spattering everywhere.

That was the least of her worries.

Pushing herself up onto her knees and elbows, Deja looked over to see Dean stiff and choking in a desperate attempt to suck in air, the color fading from his skin as the life was literally sucked out of him. She crawled over to him, pulling him up and into her arms. In the midst of his death throes, he latched onto her, onto her arm, and she felt her eyes swiftly start to burn before she was crying, looking back in the direction of the house.

"Sam! Damn it! Dean!" she shouted, holding Dean closer and tightening her grip on him. "Come on, Sam!"

She looked back down at Dean, gut clenching painfully and almost feeling physical pain of her own to seeing life rapidly leave him, hear him practically suffocating with throttled sounds of agony escaping when he managed to push air in or out of his lungs, a fearful look in the eyes that seemed to go white with fog. Her grip on him turned to a white knuckled grip, and she pulled him closer.

"Hang on, Dean, hold on, just a little longer," she murmured shakily. Suddenly, he gasped in air like a drowning man, his full weight falling on her arms as he went completely limp, but was still conscious. His color quickly returned, and Deja felt his grip on her change from desperate and—though he'd never admit it despite the fact she'd seen it in his foggy eyes—scared, to needing someone to support him while he steadied himself. "Dean? You okay?" she couldn't help but ask after his ragged and erratic breathing evened out a little more.

"I'm good…I'm good…" he groaned, and Deja gently lowered him to the ground, one hand resting on his chest.

"Take a minute, catch your breath," she told him, hands trembling slightly, eyes scanning him out of concern like he was going to drop dead at any moment.

Considering this was the third death scare she'd had regarding Dean in such a short space of time, she was justified that paranoia right now.

"All right…I'm good," Dean eventually stated in a steadier tone, starting to push himself up to his feet. Deja offered herself as a support, and Dean took her up on her wordless offer until halfway to the car, when he straightened and started to limp along on his own.

Not one word was said about what had just happened in the parking lot.

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

Sam briefed them on what had happened while they were in the parking lot. He'd found the alter in the basement and destroyed it, but Sue-Anne had locked him inside and hid by the tent to summon the reaper and send it after Dean. If Deja had remained by the tent instead of running after Dean, she might have been able to stop Sue-Anne before the reaper got as far as it did.

Yet, strangely enough, Deja still didn't regret her choice to chase after Dean when she realized the reaper was after him.

After Sam broke her cross, apparently the reaper had come after her and killed her in revenge. She didn't feel bad for Sue-Anne—dark magic always came back to bite the user in the ass in some form or another—but she did feel bad for Reverend LeGrange. Not only had the healing abilities he'd believed in stopped working when he tried to heal a girl he knew personally who'd been waiting for months, but on the same night his wife died of a stroke.

Now, the boys were packing to get ready to leave. Deja had already finished packing, and she'd been waiting for them when she got the call. After she'd hung up, Deja had stepped outside and seen Sam by the Impala, so she'd talked to him first and explained what was going on. She just needed to tell Dean once he was done talking to Layla, which Sam said might take a few minutes. She didn't mind, knowing it was probably a conversation Dean needed to have. So, she waited patiently in the hall, nodding to Layla as she left with a soft goodbye but still waiting a few more minutes before she walked up to the door and gently knocked.

Dean opened the door, only looking mildly surprised for a few seconds to see her on the other side. "I'm almost done packing, I swear, you won't have to wait on me much longer," he assured her, gesturing to his almost full duffel on the bed behind him. Deja laughed softly, stepping into the room when he moved aside to let her in.

"Actually, I'm not waiting on you two," she corrected him, though he snorted and rolled his eyes before she could explain further than that.

"Of course, you are—you're always packed before us, somehow."

Deja shook her head. "No, I meant…" Deja sighed, scratching at her ear absentmindedly. "You know, when I finish a case, I leave whoever I helped a number to call if they ever end up with supernatural things going on in their lives again."

Dean looked at her blankly for a moment. "And you're telling me this because…"

Deja gave him a slightly bitter smile. "Because I just got a call…and I've got to go."

"Well, we can go with you," Dean instantly countered, but Deja held up a hand to stop him.

"Not on this one, this one I've got to solo. It's a long story, but considering her current situation, she's going to be even less friendly to strangers than usual. I'm going to be the only one she trusts, so I've got to be the one to go. Just…you and your brother keep looking for your dad and picking up these odd cases, all right?"

"Are you planning on coming back?" Dean asked after a moment of consideration, coming to a stop right in front of her. Deja snorted.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I am—I rather enjoy this whole group hunting thing. It's just one solo job—I'll meet up with you two again once it's done."

Dean stared at her for a few moments, and Deja saw sadness flicker across his features, to her surprise. "Duty calls, I guess."

Deja smiled. "Aw, you're gonna miss me! I didn't know you liked having me around that much."

Dean's sly smile slipped across his face as he shrugged. "Eh…you're not the worst company to have around."

Deja rolled her eyes. "That's gratitude for you."

Dean snickered, turning away and back towards his packing before he stopped, expression suddenly pensive. When he looked up, she was surprised to see a vulnerability in his eyes, though his expression was carefully controlled.

"Thank you," he said simply. Deja didn't have to ask what for. The image of Dean dying in her arms as he clutched to her for comfort was a vivid one, one she was sure wasn't going to leave her any time soon.

"You don't have to thank me. I'd do it again in a heartbeat," she told him quietly.

Dean nodded, looking down at the duffel bag in silence for several long minutes. When he still hadn't broken the silence or really moved, Deja decided to be the one who spoke up.

"Well…if that's all, I need to hit the road. She needs me there as soon as possible," Deja commented, backing away towards the door. Dean turned around to face her suddenly, stopping her in her tracks.

"Actually, yes, one more thing…" That sly smile returned, but there was an edge to it that told Deja that whatever he was about to say was still a serious question, despite how flippantly he might deliver it. "All that effort I've put in flirting…Would you have at least kissed me before I died?"

Deja smiled at him, but didn't answer. Instead, she walked forward and wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug, nestling her face in the crook where his shoulder met his neck as one hand came to rest on the back of his neck and the other stopped in the middle of his back. It took him a moment to respond, but Dean did hug her back, arms wrapping around her with his hands on her lower back and left shoulder blade.

She stayed silent for several long moments, simply letting the hug speak for itself before she decided to add a few words she felt needed to be said while she had the opportunity before she left. "I wish it would have been a different way…but I'm glad you're going to be okay, Dean…I really am." She hugged him a little tighter, feeling his arms constrict slightly around her as well in response to her words. She pulled her head back enough to rest her cheek against his, making it easier to whisper in his ear. "And despite what you may think, you are worth saving. I believe you are."

Carefully, Deja pulled away, putting a few steps between them. The look he gave her made her wonder if he'd realized she'd heard his comment to the air about Layla deserving to be healed more than him, or if he had realized she had known what he was feeling in the tent, and had said she'd felt that way too.

She wasn't going to ask and ruin the moment.

"I'll see you soon, Dean. Try not to have too much fun without me," she said, flashing him one last warm smile before she left the room.