Written by: gooberlanes13

And then—

giggle.

High-pitched. Rotten. Too close.

Every inch of me went still.

My breath caught mid-sob. My fingers froze on the doorknob. My heart hit a beat so loud it silenced everything else.

The dark didn't feel empty anymore.

It felt like him.

Childlike. Mocking.

click.

A Zippo flared to life. That warm, orange flame.

And behind it—

Nick.

Standing just inside the light.

Smiling.

Like he never left. Like I never got away. Like Dean never beat him bloody and dragged me out. He flicked the Zippo closed with a snap. Let the dark swallow us again.

"I missed you, baby."

The flame flickered. Just enough light to see the curve of his grin. Nick stepped forward, boots thudding on the warped floor like a countdown.

"No fangs this time?" he asked, voice dripping in mock concern. "Guess I'm not the only one who got defanged."

He circled me slowly.

"You remember the first time you tried to leave me?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't.

"I do," he said. "You shook just like that. Same whimper, too. Same lip."

His hand shot out, fingers ghosting my jaw.

I flinched.

He smiled wider.

"You still taste like weakness, Evie."

The flame vanished. The dark swallowed him whole.

"Now let's talk about what really happened."

The bathroom door slammed behind me.

I flinched hard, dropping my arms to my sides and glaring over my shoulder. With a harsh sigh, I turned back to the shirt I was trying to fold, but I paused in mid fold of a shirt and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes, letting a slow shaky exhale.

The sudden movement and pause caught Dean's eyes first. His brow furrowed—subtle, but sharp. Not confusion. Recognition. He knew that flinch. Knew it too well.

Bri's head snapped up next. She exchanged a glance with Sam, something unspoken passing between them before she stepped forward, slow, careful, like she was approaching something wounded.

"Hey," she said gently, reaching to touch my shoulder. "You okay?"

The second her hand made contact, I jerked away—too fast, too hard.

Everyone stilled.

Dean stood straighter, jaw tightening. Bri froze mid-motion. Sam's whole posture shifted like he'd felt the jolt himself.

"I'm fine." My voice was clipped. Too loud. Too quick.

Dean didn't buy it. Not for a second. His eyes narrowed, tracking every micro-shift in my body like he was trying to see the part I wasn't showing.

"You sure?" Bri asked, her voice barely above a whisper now.

I nodded, too sharp. "Yeah. Just—tired."

The lie hit the floor between us like a loaded gun no one wanted to pick up.

Dean's gaze didn't leave me. Not even for a second.

I turned away before he could say something else. Before the look in his eyes cracked the mask I was barely holding together.

But even as I bent to shove a T-shirt into my bag, I could feel it. All three of them were watching me like they already knew something.

"Eve—" Bri started, but I slammed the T-shirt into my bag and rounded on her, crossing my arms.

"So, is that it, Bri?" I almost shouted, making Sam and Dean fully freeze now. "Is that your new thing, you just run and cut out when things get hard?"

"What are you—?"

"The walls may be fancier than our usual motel rundown ones, but they're still paper thin." I slapped the wall that stood between the room and the bathroom she and Sam just came out of. "You really wish he'd stayed dead at Cold Oak so you wouldn't have to keep breaking like this?" I gestured loosely, making her head hang.

Sam's jaw clenched.

Dean's lips pressed themselves into something thin, as he glared between myself and Sam.

"Eve, you don't under—"

"I understand plenty!" I shouted, picking up the T-shirt and moving to try and fold it again, but slamming it back down. "I understand that despite our objections, Dean made the deal that brought Sam back..."

Bri's eyes locked on mine.

"I understand that some things are meant to stay secrets." I glared over the three of them and paused. I met Bri's eyes head on before I pushed on, "I also don't remember you bitching the night Sam came back." I shot, stepping away from the bed now, not breaking eye contact now. "I remember you getting pissed when he pushed you away to—" I cleared my throat to do my best Sam-Winchester impression, "protect you."

Bri smirked while Sam glared over at Dean, who shot him an amused grin.

"You were so pissed, in fact, that you took off...you didn't appreciate him making that call for you—so what? You're just going to turn around do the exact same fucking thing to him, to us?!"

"Eve wants me, Eve..." She spat, slamming a palm against her chest as she dropped her duffle beside her. "...Sam is a way in and you heard the Trickster, all she needs a crack—"

"The fucking Trickster..." I laughed humorlessly, glaring around the room and finally settling on the ceiling as I pressed my hands on my hips. "...the next time I see him—"

"Whoa!" Dean gasped, stepping forward "Eve, what exactly happened to you in that alternate reality?"

My eyes snapped from Bri's to Dean's.

My chest got heavy, fast.

The burn behind my eyes returned as his voice slithered back into mind:

"Now let's talk about what really happened."

"Nothing I couldn't handle." I lied, dropping my gaze to a rough patch in the carpet.

"Guys..." Sam started, but Bri interjected.

"Let's not change the subject, Dean..." Bri patted Dean on the chest as I lifted my head back up to meet her gaze. "...do you have any big immaculate suggestions around this crack in for Eve, Eve?"

"Eve...Eve..." Dean muttered, earning an elbow from Sam.

I glared harder at this point, "There's power in numbers."

Bri opened her mouth to speak, but Sam cut in.

"Guys, we can't do this now." His voice echoed off the walls as the three of us turned to him now. "We have Demons on our asses and we need to get moving, now."

No one argued.

No one moved at first either.

Then, like something inside all of us snapped back into place—too tight, too forced—we scattered.

I turned without a word and resumed packing. Shoved shirts into my duffel with fast, clipped movements. Didn't bother folding this time. Didn't care.

Behind me, I could hear Sam zipping bags. Bri yanking open drawers. Dean's boots moved across the floor, steady, too slow—like he was waiting for something to break.

I kept my back to them.

The silence was heavy. No more yelling. No more accusations. No more confrontations.

Just the rustle of fabric, the clatter of zippers, the occasional scrape of a bottle being tossed into a bag.

My hands were shaking.

I clenched a jacket tighter than I meant to and jammed it into my duffel. My teeth pressed hard against each other to keep the pressure from slipping out. A breath stuttered past my lips anyway.

I caught my reflection in the mirror across the room—shoulders locked up around my ears, jaw clenched like I could break it with willpower alone. My eyes were too wide. Too bright.

"Eve," Dean's voice said from behind me. Quiet. Watching.

I didn't turn.

"I'm fine," I said flatly.

Silence followed.

I didn't have to look to know no one bought it.

Bri slowed her packing. Sam hovered near the door, keys clenched in his fist. Dean stood in the middle of the room like gravity was heavier around him now, like he wanted to move closer but didn't trust the ground.

But none of them pushed.

Good.

Because I didn't have room left for another crack.

By the time we stepped outside, the sun was already low—burning orange at the edge of the parking lot, casting long shadows over the cracked pavement.

Sam loaded the trunk. Bri wordlessly handed him bags, her expression unreadable behind sunglasses she didn't need yet. She didn't speak. Neither did he.

I slung my duffel over my shoulder and started toward the front lobby instead.

Behind me, I heard the scuff of boots. "Where are you going?"

Dean.

"Checking out," I said without turning. "Can't exactly ghost a place with demon blood on the walls."

"You shouldn't go anywhere alone."

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm walking twenty feet to a door with windows and a human inside." I kept walking. "I think I'll live."

Dean didn't answer—but I heard his footsteps follow anyway.

The lobby bell jingled as I stepped inside. The AC hit my skin like a slap and the kid behind the counter— mid-thirties, slick hair, and that nametag that read Jeremy was still slightly crooked like his too-confident smile.

He perked up the second he saw me.

"Hey," he grinned. "You okay? Thought I heard shouting earlier."

I tilted my head, considering this was a fancier place than we usually crashed at, and we were no where near the lobby, I tensed a little and stopped short of the counter, tightening my grip on my duffle.

"Long night," I muttered, dropping the keycard onto the counter.

His eyes scanned me like he was checking for bruises. "You sure? 'Cause if someone's been treating you like—"

"She's fine," Dean cut in from behind me.

I didn't turn. Just gave the kid a tired smile. "Appreciate it. Just need to check out."

He nodded slowly, still watching me too long before tapping a few keys on the ancient monitor. "All good. You're set."

"Thanks."

"You heading out of town?" he asked, voice a little too casual.

I started to answer, but Dean stepped closer—not touching, but there. "We are."

The kid's eyes flicked to Dean, then back to me, reading something between the lines.

"Alright," he said finally, offering me a receipt. "Take care of yourself, alright?"

I nodded once, "Always do..." taking the receipt from his cold pale fingers and folding the paper without reading it. "You too."

As we turned back toward the door, Dean didn't say anything. Just walked beside me, eyes sharp and quiet, like he was still weighing everything I hadn't said.

We stepped back out into the parking lot, the Impala already rumbling faintly. Sam glaring out of the passenger seat window and Bri's nose in a journal in the back seat.

I opened the back door and climbed in without a word.

Dean hesitated for just a second—like he was going to say something—but then he moved around to the driver's side and got in.

The doors shut.

The engine growled.

And the road pulled us forward.

The engine growled. The road unspooled in front of us, all melting pavement and gold-tinged trees. No one spoke.

Dean kept his eyes ahead, one hand on the wheel, the other flexing against his thigh like he wanted to say something. Like he wanted to reach across the silence and yank me out of whatever headspace I was curled into.

But he didn't.

Good.

I didn't have the room to bleed anymore today.

Bri didn't look up from the journal in her lap, pen unmoving. Sam stared out the window like the trees might answer the question he still hadn't asked.

I leaned my head back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, body still. My fingers twitched now and then, barely noticeable, except to me.

Dean tried anyway.

"You gonna tell me what happened back there?"

I didn't answer.

"Eve."

I didn't even blink. Just stared at the power lines slicing through the sky.

"You were white as a sheet when I found you in that maze, Eve... you've been quiet since that auction." He tried to soften it. "That Trickster's got a twisted sense of humor—I've seen what he does to people. You can talk to me."

Still nothing.

I could feel him watching me now, more than the road. I didn't move. Didn't give him anything to dig into.

"I'm fine," I said finally. Flat. Automatic.

Dean let out a breath like he didn't believe a single word—but he didn't push again. Not yet.

The car settled back into that heavy silence, like the whole thing was waiting for someone to crack.

Then Sam's phone rang.

He glanced down at the screen. "It's Bobby."

Dean jerked his chin. "Put it on speaker."

Sam tapped the screen and held it up.

"Boys," Bobby's gravel rasped through the speakers. "And girls," he added after a beat, like he knew we were all there.

"What's up?" Dean asked.

"Dean, I've been getting calls all afternoon," Bobby said. "Whatever you guy four did to get that ring, it set something off—like a beacon to everyone."

I blinked. Sat up a little straighter.

"She's not just one of the two rookie hunters you're taking under your wings boys, she's got a name now. Face. Creature status. Everything. Someone leaked it."

Dean's eyes locked on mine for a second in the rearview mirror before his jaw clenched. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying there's a bounty on her head, Dean."

The car went dead quiet.

"Vampire community's talking," Bobby continued. "Demons too. Word is, you're traveling with a half-human bloodsucker who's powerful enough to light up all the radars—and worth a hell of a price to the right buyer."

My blood went cold.

Dean's hand tightened on the wheel. "How much?"

"Doesn't matter," Bobby snapped. "It's enough to send every hunter, fang, and freak with a death wish straight at you."

Dean pressed harder on the gas. The Impala surged forward.

Bri's eyes lifted from her journal. Sam swallowed hard.

I stared straight ahead, chest steady, breath even.

Then—quiet. Dead calm.

"Pull over."

Dean blinked. "What?"

I turned my head toward him. "Pull. Over."

He didn't move fast enough.

"Pull. The fuck. Over. Now."

Dean cut the wheel hard, skidding into a narrow shoulder off the highway. The Impala jolted as he braked. Gravel kicked under the tires.

The car stopped.

I shoved open the door and stepped out without another word, boots crunching the gravel like thunder. I didn't even bother to shut the door—I needed to breathe.

Dean cursed under his breath behind me, "Son of a—"

"I'll go," Bri said quickly, unbuckling, but Dean threw his arm across the seat to stop her.

"No," he muttered, jaw set. "I've got her."

I didn't make it far.

Just past the curve of trees and guardrail, I dropped to a crouch, bracing my elbows on my knees, trying to breathe around the pressure in my chest.

Inhale.

Nothing.

Exhale.

Worse.

The air felt thick. Wrong. Like it was folding in on itself.

I dug my nails into my palms and counted—one, two, three—like it would stop the world from spinning. Like it would keep him out of my head.

The echo of that laugh still clung to the inside of my skull.

I missed you, baby.

My hands trembled.

Then—

Bootsteps behind me.

Slower this time. Not rushing. Not charging in like a savior.

Just Dean.

He didn't speak. Not at first. Just stood a few feet behind me, his shadow stretching long in the dying light.

I didn't look at him. Couldn't.

"I ever tell you," He said finally, voice low, "that I used to get panic attacks in closets?"

That made me blink.

"After Dad would disappear for weeks on end," he added, stepping closer, slow. "Or after Sammy would get hurt, or a hunt would go south growing up—or even when I'd go to get a moment away from Sammy, but..." He paused, stepping forward slowly, carefully. "Small spaces. Dark rooms. Couldn't breathe. Thought it was weakness at first. Thought if I just manned up, it'd go away."

I stayed quiet, still crouched, fists clenched so tight I was shaking hard now, in the dirt.

"But it didn't," he said. "Not until I stopped pretending, I wasn't scared."

Silence.

Then—

"I can't breathe," I rasped.

Dean knelt beside me. Close, but not touching. "Yeah, you can. Just not all at once."

I dragged in a jagged breath. "He—He was there."

Dean didn't ask who. He just let me talk at my own pace.

There was a pause though, only filled by the highway noise a few yard behind us.

"The Trickster showed me... him," I ground out. "Nick. He said—he said I still taste like weakness."

Dean's jaw ticked, but he didn't move.

He just let me say it.

Let me breathe it.

"He used an old nickname of mine, too," I whispered. "I don't feel real, Dean."

Dean reached over—slow, deliberate—and laid his hand over mine. "You are."

Grounding—but not for long.

Dean's hand was still on mine when I finally stopped shaking.

Not gone.

Just... dulled. Contained.

I pulled my hand back gently. "I'm fine."

He didn't push it. Just sat there next to me, boots planted, elbows on his knees like we were just two people watching traffic instead of a vampire and a hunter trying to hold their pieces together.

"I'm public enemy number one now, huh?" I asked, voice dry but flat.

Dean exhaled slowly through his nose. "Bobby wouldn't have called if it wasn't bad."

I nodded once, my jaw tightening. "Guess I should be used to it. Being hunted. Just wish the hit wasn't coming from both sides, or even from inside the house, you know?"

His head turned, just a little.

"I mean, hell," I went on, bitter heat rising in my throat, "I got Demons clawing at the door. Vampires ready to drag me down for sport. But it's you three," I paused, glaring over at his knees, not having the strength to meet his eyes just yet, "you three who really landed the hit."

Dean's brows pulled together, cautious. "Eve—"

"Don't." I stood, quick and sharp, brushing my hands off on my jeans. "Don't try to talk me down like I'm some grenade with a pin half-pulled. Just let me say it."

Dean stood too. Didn't interrupt.

"I trusted you." My voice cracked—quiet, not loud, but brutal. "I trusted all of you."

Dean looked away.

"You knew," I snapped, eyes burning into him. "You knew about the time limit. You knew you were running on borrowed time, and you still kept me in the dark."

"I was trying to protect you—"

"No," I cut in. "You were trying to manage me. Keep me on the leash until the clock ran out."

"That's not—"

I rounded on him, fire flaring in my gut. "Don't lie to me, Dean. Not now."

He clenched his jaw. Said nothing.

I turned my glare to the road. "And Bri? She knew too. You both kept it from me like I wouldn't feel it when the bottom dropped out."

Silence.

"And Sam." Dean admitted it more to himself than to me, but I caught it.

My voice dropped—not with anger, but with something colder. "You always talk about choices and consequences. What happened to that? Did all that go out the window when it comes to me?"

He didn't answer. Of course he didn't.

"Three of the people I'd actually bleed for—just decided I didn't need to know the truth."

Dean stepped forward slightly. "Eve, I didn't—"

"You didn't what?" I snapped. "Didn't think I'd find out? Didn't think I'd be able to handle it?"

He swallowed. Hard.

"Family's supposed to tell the truth, Dean."

Then quieter—deadly: "I don't know if I can trust you."

He flinched. Just barely. But I saw it.

I waited. Daring him to deny it.

He didn't.

Instead, he exhaled—heavy and hoarse—and said, "I wasn't trying to hurt you, Eve. I was just—"

"Don't," I cut in, sharp and low. "Don't say it was to protect me."

He hesitated. Mouth still open.

"It's a broken record," I added, voice like steel. "You think it's some noble justification, but no one's listening anymore. Not when it means lying. Not when it means choosing for me."

Dean looked like he wanted to argue—wanted to find a different phrase, a better reason—but nothing came out.

The silence stretched, thick with everything we weren't saying.

Then, softer—like it cost him something: "I didn't want you carrying it."

I blinked. "Then maybe don't carry it alone either."

He looked away.

And for a second, I almost cracked.

Almost.

But instead, I just shook my head. "Isn't that what you always say?"

Dean's eyes shot into mine.

"You don't have to carry it alone," I started counting on my finger, crossing my other arm across my chest. "It's a Family Business, that's what Family's for—"

"I get it Eve." He warned, but I wasn't done.

"You could've told me the truth. Any of you could've. But you didn't."

Dean didn't move. Didn't defend. Didn't reach.

So I didn't say anything else.

Not until the back door of the Impala swung open with force.

"Can we not have it out on the side of the damn highway?" Bri snapped, striding toward us, boots crunching in the gravel. "Assault squads on our asses, remember?"

Behind her, Sam followed slower, glancing behind him like the Impala might disappear if they left it unattended too long.

I glared over Dean's shoulder to Bri, arms still crossed tight over my chest. "You knew too."

She stopped cold.

"You knew about the time limit." My voice wasn't raised, but it didn't need to be. It landed like stone. "And you—of all fucking people—didn't tell me."

Bri opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her jaw clenched.

"You always say you're not like the others. That you trust me. So what the hell was that?" I shook my head. "You didn't even try."

Bri's eyes flashed. "It wasn't my secret to tell."

"It stopped being a secret when it started affecting all of us."

Silence. Just for a beat.

"He asked me not to." She admitted, glaring lightly over at Dean, whose eyes weren't leaving mine.

I chuckled humorlessly as I turned to Sam. "And you. You're supposed to be the logical one. The one who steps in when Dean gets tunnel vision. But you just stood by and let it happen."

Sam looked away, jaw tight. "I tried."

"Not hard enough."

That one hit. I saw it in the way he winced. In the way Bri glanced between the two of us like she thought I might throw another strike.

I didn't.

I was done swinging.

Dean's voice broke the silence—lower now. Not defensive. Just... worn.

"I'm not gonna beg, Eve." He took a step closer, but still gave me space. "You don't trust me right now, I get that. I earned it. You want to shut me out, I won't stop you. But I will say this..."

He looked at me—really looked at me.

"Family's supposed to stay," Dean said quietly. "Even when it's hard—"

"Did I say I was leaving?" I snapped, spinning toward him, arms crossed.

Dean's mouth clamped shut mid-sentence. Something shifted behind his eyes—something softer, slower. Realization bleeding in like light through cracks.

I held his gaze. "I'm not going anywhere. You three chose to keep this from me... so now you get to watch what that does. What I do with it. How this plays out."

My breath caught. The hair on the back of my neck prickled.

Dean noticed first. "What?"

I didn't answer.

My eyes slid past him—toward the Impala, sitting a few yards down the shoulder.

Bri followed my gaze. "Eve?"

"Something's..." My voice dropped, low and tight. "Something's coming."

Sam turned, scanning the road. "What is it?"

Dean stepped forward, body already tense. "Eve, what do you—"

Then I saw it.

Lights. Massive. Barreling toward us—too fast.

"MOVE!" I screamed, already lunging forward. In a blink, I shoved Dean, Bri, and Sam hard toward the tree line. I didn't have time to do anything for Baby.

Too late.

BOOM!

The sound cracked through the air like a thunderclap as a souped-up black pickup—lifted, armored, demonic sigils carved into the grill—slammed into the Impala.

Metal screamed. Glass exploded.

Steel twisted in on itself like tinfoil under a fist.

The ground shook.

And just like that—The world went sideways.

I rounded toward the treeline, glaring around at the wide eyed trio as I attempted to get my adrenaline under control, I muttered, "That's protecting someone."

But Dean didn't look at me. He was already moving.

Storming.

Straight toward the truck that had just wrecked into Baby.

The driver's door flung open. A pair of boots hit the pavement.

Dean drew his gun without hesitation, posture coiled and lethal.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" Dean bellowed, voice cracking through the trees.

Another door opened. A second man climbed out, shotgun slung across his back, too casual for someone who'd just tried to kill all of us.

Dean's body shifted ever so slightly—subtle, but clear. He was already positioning himself between them and me.

I narrowed my eyes. Sam and Bri moved up behind me, weapons now drawn as I gripped my own blade still sheathed into the holster on my thigh.

The two hunters raised their hands in mock surrender.

"We were aiming for the car, not the people," the taller one said.

"Big difference," the other added. He was lean, older, cocky smile stretched too wide across his face. "Besides, if it's really her, metal's too good for her anyway."

Dean's jaw clenched so hard I heard it. "You got five seconds to explain who the hell you are before I decide I don't give a damn."

The cocky one didn't flinch. "Name's Jesse Cuevas. This here's Cesar." He tilted his head toward the other man. "We hunt monsters. Same as you."

"We're not the same," Sam said coldly.

Jesse's eyes slid from Sam to me. Then Bri. And the smirk deepened.

"Damn," he said, dragging it out slow. "What is it with your crew? Angels fallin' out of the sky, demons in the backseat, and that..." He nodded toward me, eyes lingering just a beat too long. "...that's a whole new brand of dangerous."

Dean took a step forward.

Jesse didn't blink.

"Shame, really," he added, tone mock-sympathetic. "Someone that beautiful, ruined that young. Guess you got claimed early, huh sweetheart?"

I didn't blink. Didn't flinch. But Sam's breath caught. Bri stiffened.

Dean? He snapped.

Gun raised.

"Say that again," Dean growled, voice barely human.

Cesar moved, but Jesse raised a hand to stop him, still smirking. "Easy, Winchester. We're not here for a pissing contest. We just want the vamp."

"You hit my car," Dean said. "You talk like that, and you think you're getting out of here with your teeth?"

Jesse's smile faded—finally. "She's got a bounty, Dean. We're just doing the job."

"She's not the job," Dean barked. "She's family."

That landed like a gunshot.

Jesse scoffed, low and bitter. "Family?" He glanced at Cesar, then back at Dean, shaking his head. "That's rich—coming from you."

Cesar stepped forward, arms crossed, tone razor-sharp. "What the hell happened to you two? Since when do hunters protect the thing with fangs instead of putting it down?"

Sam's jaw clenched. Dean took a hard step forward.

"You want to say that again?" Dean growled.

Cesar didn't flinch. "You're breaking the code, Winchester. You know the rules. We don't protect monsters. We don't sleep next to them. We don't bleed for them."

Jesse nodded toward the wrecked Impala behind them. "And now you're wrecking lives for one. What, did you forget what side you're on?"

Dean's fists curled. "You don't know a damn thing about her."

"Oh, I know enough," Jesse sneered. "Enough to know you're making excuses for something that should've been ash the second you found her."

Bri stepped in like she was ready to swing. Sam moved fast, one hand raised between them.

But the tension was already coiled too tight.

Then I stepped forward, eyes locked on Jesse's.

"I'm right here Jesse," I said coldly. "So, stop talking like I'm not."

Jesse's eyes met mine, something mean curling at the edges. Cesar's jaw ticked as he kept glancing between the rest of us—tense, watching.

"If you've got something to say about me—say it to my face."

Sam took a step forward, lowering his weapon but not holstering it. "Look. Nobody here wants this to turn into a firefight. You made your point, now back off. We can talk this through like actual hunters—"

Jesse didn't even look at him. His eyes were still locked on me.

"I am talking," Jesse said, soft and smug, "and I'm saying it's a damn shame. Finally get a one clean shot at correcting what you neglected to do months ago, and it turns out she's got the Winchesters wrapped around her little—"

Dean's entire body bristled, and Bri moved like she was about to step in front of me—but I raised a hand. Still. Silent.

Then Jesse took a step forward.

Slow. Deliberate.

Sam's voice sharpened, "Don't."

But Jesse kept walking.

"Thing is," he said, eyes flicking down my frame like I wasn't even human, "I don't even blame you, sweetheart. You were probably born wrong. Hell, maybe you don't even want to be saved. Maybe you like it—running with killers. With demons."

Dean's voice snapped behind me. "That's enough."

But I was already moving.

Without thinking.

Without hesitating.

I stepped around Dean.

Past Bri.

Sam swore. Dean moved like he might grab me—but didn't.

"Eve, don't—" Bri warned.

But I kept walking.

Slow. Measured.

Right toward Jesse.

His brows raised in surprise—then smug satisfaction.

"You're handing yourself over?" he asked, voice just loud enough for the others to hear.

I didn't answer. Just met his gaze head-on and stopped three feet away.

"You want me?" I said, voice even. "Then take me."

Dean barked my name—sharp and raw, like it physically hurt to hear me say it.

Bri cursed under her breath.

Sam took a step forward. "Eve, don't—"

But I didn't move.

And Jesse? That smirk was back. Like he'd won.

He reached for the silver cuffs hanging off his belt, stepping in with too much confidence.

And that's when I spoke again—still steady, still calm. But colder now.

"Just so we're clear," I said, loud enough for all of them to hear, "I wasn't born like this."

Jesse blinked, thrown off.

"I was turned. Against my will. But if you're gonna be the one to kill me—turn me in or whatever, you might as well get your facts straight."

Dean's jaw locked. Sam's fists curled. Bri was dead still now, eyes locked on Jesse like she was picking the spot to land the first blow.

"You're not special," Jesse bit out. "Turned, born—it doesn't matter. You're still a vamp. You're still a job."

My eyes narrowed. "So who put the bounty out?" I asked. "Who decided I was open season?"

That made Jesse hesitate.

He didn't answer.

Didn't have to.

Because the second his hand closed around the cuffs—

The trap snapped shut.

Without thinking, Dean stepped between us again—this time with full intention. "You touch her, you lose your hand."

Cesar moved like he might draw.

Bri did it faster—gun already half-raised.

Dean didn't wait.

He lunged first—shoulder slamming into Jesse hard enough to rattle the bastard's spine. They hit the gravel in a tangle of fists and snarled curses.

"Dean!" I started forward, but—

Cesar came from the side.

I didn't see him until it was too late.

The silver cuff clamped around my wrist with a snap.

The pain hit like fire.

White-hot. Agonizing.

I screamed.

The metal sizzled where it touched skin, smoke curling up in front of my eyes. The smell of burned flesh hit my nose and sent my knees buckling.

"Get the hell off her!" Bri roared, tackling Cesar with full force.

Sam was right behind her, grabbing the hunter by the collar and slamming him back against the truck. "You think that's how we treat people now?" he snapped, voice shaking with fury. "That your protocol?"

Dean growled as Jesse landed a hard hit across his jaw—but the moment Dean stumbled, bloodied and dazed—

I snapped.

"Enough."

The word came out low. Not loud—but final.

I crossed the space in two steps, yanking Jesse off Dean like he weighed nothing.

He choked as my hand closed around his throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him hard against the truck. The metal groaned under the impact.

I turned—and grabbed Cesar by the jacket, ripping him from Sam's grip and driving him into the metal beside his brother.

Two grown men. Pinned side-by-side by a girl with silver blistering her wrist.

"Try it again," I hissed, eyes burning. "Go ahead. Cuff me again."

Both of them struggled—snarling, twisting—but they weren't going anywhere.

Bri stepped up, gun still in hand, calm and cold as she came in beside me.

"Let's make this simple," she said. "Who put the bounty out on her?"

Silence.

Jesse spat blood.

Cesar glared murder.

But neither spoke.

Bri cocked her head, leveling her weapon higher. "Who put the hit out?"

Finally—Jesse cracked.

His voice was rough. Begrudging.

"Winchester."

"What?" Sam croaked, out of breath.

Jesse's eyes flicking toward Dean—who stood bleeding, jaw clenched, staring at the ground like it might open and swallow him.

"John."

Everything went still.

Even the trees seemed to hold their breath.

And just like that, the fight changed.

I stared at them—at the blood, the bruises, the truth.

John.

My grip loosened.

Not because I forgave. Not because I was done.

But because now I knew.

I dropped my hold, and both men crumpled to the gravel—gasping, coughing, not even trying to get back up.

Dean didn't move at first. Just stood frozen—jaw clenched so tight it could've cracked, eyes flicking between them and the wreckage of the Impala like the ground itself betrayed him.

"Dean," I said, barely more than a whisper.

That broke the spell.

His head snapped up. His shoulders squared. The shift was subtle—but it was there. He stepped forward, slow but steady, coming to stand between me and Jesse, who was already mouthing off.

"Damn," Jesse coughed, wiping blood off his chin with the back of his hand. "No wonder you're so protective. She's mean, fast, and hot."

Dean didn't hesitate.

His fist cracked across Jesse's face so hard his head bounced off the side of the truck.

"You open your mouth about her again," Dean growled, "I'll shut it for good."

Jesse groaned, spitting blood into the dirt.

"Alright, alright," Cesar barked, hand raised, glaring at his brother before turning back to Dean. "Look—we didn't know it was her until this morning. Word spread through the network after whatever beacon you set off."

"What beacon?" Bri asked, stepping forward with narrowed eyes.

"The ring," Cesar said, nodding at Sam. "You think you can just go messing with demonic, celestial artifacts and not get noticed? Someone noticed."

He looked at me—then back to Dean.

"And when they did, names started getting flagged. Yours. Hers." He gestured to me like I was a target on a board. "Didn't take long for someone to connect the dots. Casper cult, the burndown of their headquarters...She popped. Vampire. Boom—open contract."

"Who opened it?" Dean barked.

"We already told you," Jesse slurred. "Your old man."

The silence that followed was brutal.

Dean's face was stone.

Mine? Burning.

And under it all—rage starting to curdle into something deeper.

Because this wasn't a random hit.

This was a legacy.

And I was going to burn it to the ground.

Behind me, Sam's phone rang. The sharp trill cut through the silence like a warning bell.

He didn't say anything—just picked up, listening with a grim set to his jaw. The longer he listened, the harder his brows pinched.

Finally: "Yeah. Got it. Thanks, Bobby." He hung up.

"Well?" Dean demanded.

Sam didn't look up right away. "Bobby confirmed it. There's a bounty. It's not just the local network, either—Dad's old contacts... his files..." He flicked his eyes toward me. "Your name's top of the list."

I nodded slowly. "Figures."

Jesse shifted against the side of the truck, still cradling his busted lip. "Shame, really," he muttered. "Would've been fun working together under different circumstances. You've got grit, sweetheart."

Dean took a step toward him, but I held up a hand.

"I got this," I said calmly—dangerously.

Then I stepped up, close enough for Jesse to feel the heat rolling off me. I crouched slightly, leaning in—slow, measured, in control.

"You ever come after me again," I said, voice soft but sharp enough to bleed, "I will make sure you don't walk away from it. No teeth. No tongue. No hands to reach for silver again. I'll make a ghost out of you."

Jesse blinked. His grin twitched back up—bloody and crooked. "Damn," he said, low and reverent. "Even hotter when you're angry."

Behind me, Dean shifted with a sharp inhale, like his fists were already curling.
One more word and he'd swing.

I didn't give Jesse the satisfaction of reacting. Just shifted my weight slightly, still planted between him and the Impala's wreckage. Between him and Dean. Between him and everything he clearly didn't understand.

"I'm not in the mood to be polite twice," I said coolly, feeling Dean step closer to my side. "I don't have to leave you here."

Bri moved in fast, brushing her fingers against my wrist. "Hey," she murmured. "You're burning yourself out."

Only then did I realize I was still trembling.

Still cuffed.

Bri dropped to a crouch beside me, muttering something under her breath as she worked the silver clasps with her blade. A hiss escaped me when the metal tugged, but then—

Click.

The cuffs fell.

I flexed my wrists, raw skin already knitting together under the air.

Jesse and Cesar didn't speak. For once.

And for a moment, neither did we.

Just the tick of broken engine metal cooling behind us, the rustle of wind through blood-stained gravel, and the weight of something coiled and seething under my skin.

Dean's voice finally broke the silence, rough and low. "You talk like that again, I don't care what your name is—you're not walking away."

He turned toward Sam, jaw tight. "Call Bobby. Then a tow for the car."

Sam nodded, pulling out his phone and stepping a few feet away, his back to the road as he started dialing.

Bri crossed her arms, eyes still locked on Jesse and Cesar. Then she glanced over at me.
"What do you want to do with them?" she asked, flat and cold.

I didn't answer right away. Just stared at the two of them slumped against the side of their truck—bloody, bruised, and still breathing.

Dean took a step forward. "They laid hands on you. Hit my car. Tried to haul you off in chains like some monster—"

"And if we kill them," I cut in, my voice like steel, "we're no better than they are."

Dean's jaw ticked. He didn't disagree. But he didn't like it either.

"We've got a demon assault squad on our backs," I added. "Now a hunter network who thinks I'm a walking target. We don't have room for extra blood on our hands. Not today."

A beat.

Then Jesse laughed, low and breathless. "Damn. No wonder you're so protective of her. Beautiful, powerful, and merciful—Dean, you've really outkicked your coverage—"

Dean stepped forward and decked him—hard.

Jesse's head snapped back against the truck with a grunt.

"That's for the car," Dean muttered.

"Charming." I deadpanned, watching Dean straighten back up with a look of questioning as I rolled my neck before I moved next.

I grabbed both brothers by the front of their jackets, and yanked them to their feet with one smooth pull. Slammed them back against the side of their truck like it was nothing.

"You've got thirty seconds," I said, voice like frost. "Get in. Get out. Before I change my mind."

Neither of them tested it.

Cesar spat blood. Jesse groaned.

And I didn't let go until they were climbing into the cab, bruised and broken—but alive.

By the time the Cuevas brothers peeled away, taillights disappearing down the highway, I still hadn't unclenched my fists. My wrists ached. My pulse thundered. But I didn't let any of it show.

Dean moved beside me—silent. Not touching. But there.

Sam's phone buzzed. He stepped forward, glancing at the screen as he brought it to his ear.

"Yeah?" A pause. His brow furrowed. Then his whole posture changed. Tightened. "Copy that. We're on it."

He hung up and looked at the three of us. "Tow truck's on the way."

Bri let out a slow breath. Dean didn't react.

Sam's eyes flicked to mine. "Bobby sent us an address. Safe house just outside Milan. Says we need to use it."

Dean frowned. "Why?"

Sam hesitated. "Because... Dad just showed up at Bobby's."