*NOT MY BEST CHAPTER SORRY :(*

|Questions of The Chapter|: —Do you guys know where to find HQ gifs of Emeraude Toubia as Isabelle Lightwood (AKA Odessa)? I've searched Tumblr like 765 times and they've always got the same gifs, and I've already searched for gif hunts. I just need a new source. Thanks guys :) 

—How's the weather where your from? Here in California it's beyond crazy and my house started flooding, and part of my roof was torn off. It was a stressful day.

—What was the last song you listened to? Sunset Lover by Petit Biscuit 

—I'm so excited for you guys to see the second book 'Haunting'! @idkmstiles made my cover (once again and I fucking love it) and I've got the playlist, epigraph, and the prologue done and ready! I've definitely matured much more as a writer in this second book than I was in the beginning of this one, and I can't wait for you guys to see that.

The tension exchanged between Odessa and Dean was immensely thick, severely unbearable, and there was nothing either of them could do to ease the hostility between them. After his candid declaration of his feelings, he kissed her forehead with fragility and departed from her side without muttering another word. She watched his parting figure leave her room with wide eyes, and she couldn't properly function because the only thing she was thinking about was his words replaying over and over again.

When dusk arrived, she apprehensively dragged herself out of her sheets and came to the decision of showering with scorching water to alleviate her clamoring thoughts. Everything was becoming increasingly problematic, and she wished for those days where she was carefree with her boys with beaming smiles as they traveled for hours. Now, she was burdened with emotions she didn't want and wondering if she was evolving into something she didn't want to be.

Cranking the warmth of the pouring water, Odessa closed her eyes and savored the brief contentment of indifference within those four walls. There was something relieving of this negligence, even though she was returning to her involvement with concern in minutes, and she was reveling in this complacency as the searing water trickled down on her. 

Pushing the plastic curtain aside, Odessa twisted her lengthy hair and made sure the excess water dribbled down the drain. Steam swirled around her in convoluted puffs and she sighed as the brisk air cooled her heated skin. Stepping over the edge of the shower, the marble flooring was bleak and she didn't like how everything was so cold outside the pouring water. Grabbing one of several towels from the side, she swiftly enwrapped the minuscule fabric around her form, groaning inwardly as she realized how small this towel was. It hadn't provided any form of warmth, purpose, and barely reached her mid-thigh. 

She secured the towel in place, then grabbed another from the pile and squeezed out the remaining water resided in her hair. Exiting the steam-suffused bathroom with her fresh garments and underwear in hand, she tossed them aside on top of her temporary bed and propped herself on the corner of the mattress, where hours ago Dean professed his feelings. She shook her head and chose to disregard the butterflies fluttering inside her stomach.

She finished applying her lace underwear, and was seconds from removing her secured towel to fasten her lace bra when the door suddenly opened and revealed a lively Dean Winchester with his usual, glittering grin. Upon opening the door, without knocking she might add, he froze instantaneously as he witnessed her exposed, glistening skin. She didn't have time to register his wandering eyes that were glimmering with admiration.

Odessa tightened her grasp on the towel, shrieking as she grabbed the nearest thing beside her to toss at him. He hastily caught the item, being shaken from his daydream and he smirked egotistically as he examined the mesh fabric in his hand. "I've never been a fan of surprises, but, hey, I can make an exception for this one. " He said, displaying her onyx-black bra as he eyed the lingerie with wonderment. "Put these in the 'yes' pile." 

She rolled her eyes and stepped forward, yanking her bra from his hands. "Dean, ever heard of knocking or are you completely void of manners now?" She asked, evading his piercing gaze. 

Entering the room, just as he did hours ago, he half-shrugged and frowned as he closed the door behind him. "Eh, didn't think it was necessary. This isn't anything I haven't seen before." Well, he wasn't lying. They'd seen each other half-dressed, only in their boxers/bra and panties, plenty of times, but this was the first time Dean had seen her undressed with entirely contrasting perspective. 

Jutting her index finger in his direction, she raised an eyebrow. "You haven't seen me naked," She corrected, a glistering grin teasing her lips.

Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Is that an offer," He questioned, and she rolled her eyes, well-aware of his humorous manner. "But, seriously, get dressed. Sam's got another vision and says it's pretty important." There was a distinctive edge in his voice, something off and she didn't need to ponder on the thought any further to know he was keeping some from her. 

Inching forward, her eyes eyes widened. "Is he okay?" She asked frantically. 

He nodded, dismissing her worries with a half-shrug. "He's fine, but we've got to go. Get dressed." He repeated.

Opening the door, Dean turned his back towards her and was seconds from departing the room when Odessa acted without thinking. "Dean, I..." She called out, unaware of her actions until after she spoke and processed her own words. He whirled around, facing her with his mouth open, as if he were expecting her utter those three words back. 'I like you' is what she wanted to say, so terribly much, but she somehow restrained herself. She shook her head, redirecting her gaze back at her hands. "Nothing. Can you just bring me one of your t-shirts, please? Mine haven't been washed yet." She lied, and she wondered if there was any use in attempting to lie, seeming as he didn't appear to believer her.

His shoulders drooped, and his eyes' glimmer of anticipation ceased. "Yeah, sure. No problem." And as the door closed behind him, she closed her eyes tightly and mentally cursed herself for turning down this opportunity to get everything she desired.

<<>>

Odessa, with a disinterested expression, examined her scarlet-coated nails as Sam and Dean spoke with some man who was apparently connected to Sam's vision. Speaking of, she wasn't informed of what this vision was predicting because both brothers refused to explain the details. From the distance, she watched as they both turned around and made their way back to the Impala. Sam motioned for her to stop leaning against the hood of the car, and to follow them. She obliged with the wordless demand, and was soon ambling beside Sam with Dean trailing her.

Walking up the curb, Sam accidentally bumped into a wooden pole and halted, having Odessa scrunch her eyebrows in bewilderment as she watched him scrutinize the beam intently. "Hey," He said, jutting his index fingers towards the engraved letters that were carved with something sharp. Dean read the word aloud, unaware of the significance of the word. "Roanoke. Lost colony. Ring a bell? Dean, did you pay any attention to history class?" He asked, arms spread wide in an inquisitive manner.

Dean furrowed his brows, scoffing as he did so."Yeah. The shot heard around the world. How bills become laws." He listed, unaware that this wasn't school, but videos created for educational purposes.

Sam looked utterly startled by Dean's lack of historical knowledge. "That's not school. That's 'Schoolhouse Rock'," Odessa, oblivious to what they were speaking of, chose to remain silent. Dean shrugged, frowning as he mumbled a 'whatever'. "Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America—late fifteen-hundreds." Sam briefly explained. 

Realization dawned upon Dean's expression. "Oh, yeah, yeah. I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved into a tree. 'Croatoan'."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, and there were theories—Indian raid, disease—but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone, wiped out over night." 

Odessa raised an eyebrow, glancing around her surroundings. "You don't think that's what's going on here? I mean, all these people disappearing overnight, you think that could actually happen here?" She asked, clutching her forearm.

He looked away. "Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good," He muttered, glimpsing back at the carved words. "But what do you think could do that?" 

Dean sighed, peering over his shoulder as an unknown man passed by. "Well, I mean, like I said, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the yellow-eyed demon somehow, so..." He droned off.

Sam thoughtfully glanced at his shoes. "We should get help. Bobby. Ellen, maybe." 

Odessa nodded, yanking her phone from her back pocket. "Good idea, I'll call Ellen," She said, pressing the keypads, but was welcomed with the symbol and words 'No Signal'. She furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't have a signal. I could've sworn I had a signal earlier."

With bewilderment, Sam pulled out his phone as well, eyebrows puckered as he returned his attention back at her. "I don't either." Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, pursing his lips as he did so. He  scurried to the telephone booth a few feet away, bringing the phone to his ear and began pressing the buttons frantically. There was no response, only the telephone's clicking.

"The line's dead," He said, putting back the phone. "I'll tell you one thing—if I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step."

<<>>

The secluded home Sam and Dean were directed from the ex-marine was strikingly isolated from the town, the home was enclosed with multiple trees and by a hillside. Although admirable, the train's whistle blowing in the distance created somewhat of an eerie atmosphere. The porch, and along with the remainder of the house, was supported with wooden floorboards. The glass windows were concealed by sheer curtains. The home appeared to be like any other home. Dean opened the screen-door, and Sam knocked on the glass of the other door. 

Seconds must've gone by when the door was swung open. There stood a teenage boy, one who couldn't have been older than seventeen, and his eyes quickly scanned the trio as he stuffed his hands inside his pockets. He didn't seem all that fazed with their presence, actually, he seemed self-assured. "Yeah?" 

Dean displayed his faux badge. "Hi, looking for Duane Tanner. He lives here, right?" He asked, putting his badge back inside his pocket.

The kid nodded. "Yeah. He's my brother." From the distance, and within the home, Odessa could detect the heavy breathing of two other individuals. Stealing a quick glance at the youngest Winchester, he staring the teen with perplexity. "He's not here right now." He replied when asked if they could speak with him.

"Do you know where he is?" Odessa questioned, attempting to peer over his shoulder discreetly. The kid raised an eyebrow. 

"Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Rosalyn Lake." He answered, mellow. Sam was swift to ask if his parents were home, and Odessa was beginning to suspect Sam was onto something. "Yeah, they're inside." He said, grinning. There was something terribly off about his smile, though. It wasn't right, and gave her goosebumps. From inside the house there was an older voice asking who was at the door.

A man, who she assumed was this teenager's father, appeared by the kid's side. "Hi, U.S Marshals , sir. We're looking for your son Duane." Dean introduced. 

The man furrowed his eyebrows. "W-Why? He's not in trouble, is he?"

Odessa shook her head, offering her notorious grin. "No, No. He's fine. We just need to ask him some routine questions, that's all." Her smile faltered. "Do you happen to know when he's coming back from his trip?" 

The man winced as he thought. "I'm not sure." 

Sam feigned a smile. "Well, maybe your wife knows." 

The man stole a glance over his shoulder. "No, I don't know. She's not here right now." 

Dean, along with Odessa, furrowed their eyebrows in response. "Well, your son said she was," The teenager seemed shaken from his daze at the mention of him, questioning aloud if he had mentioned his mother's presence. His father chuckled, nervously, may Odessa add, and patted his son's shoulder. 

"She's getting groceries," He said, "So, when Duane gets back, there's a number where he can get a hold of you?" He asked.

Dean shook his head. "Oh, no, we'll just check in with you later," The three of them whirled around, descending down the porch's stairs, and Dean glanced back. "That was kind of creepy, right? A little too step-ford?" 

Odessa yanked her semi-automatic handgun from her waistband. "Big time," She said, "There was definitely more than two people in that house. I heard someone else breathing in there, and their hearts were beating way too fast to be telling the truth." Both brothers nodded, and they began their mission to circle around the home. Dashing to the backyard and crouching away from view, they peered through one of the several windows as the son raised his exposed arm. His father sliced his pale skin with a large kitchen knife, and he dribbled the blood over his mother's open wound as she whimpered in response. 

Glimpsing towards Dean, he nodded and she stood back, preparing herself as he raised his foot and kicked open the double-doors. Sam was first to enter, demanding the father put down the kitchen blade. In response, the man shouted as he sprinted in their direction. Dean hadn't hesitated to press the trigger, and Sam hastily followed after the son. Odessa, concluding they were fine dealing with their own situations, hurried over to the sobbing mother. Plastering a sympathetic grin, she gently tugged her restraints off and removed the gag from her mouth. "It's fine," She reassured, "We've got you."

<<>>

Odessa, toying with her pendant, observed the injured woman's apprehensive demeanor warily as she spoke with the doctor with tears brimming around her bloodshot eyes. Odessa wondered how the amount of emotions must've felt, wondered if the heartache had consumed her yet. She stared off into the distance as tears streamed down her face. "They beat me," She whispered, almost as if saying aloud made the situation true and she wanted this to be a dream. "Tied me up." 

The nurse standing behind the woman stared in disbelief. "I don't believe it." She muttered, blinking as she processed the words. 

Displaying her palm, the doctor spoke, "Pam," She said, silencing the distraught nurse, whose name was apparently Pam. "Beverly, do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?" 

Beverly shook her head. "No, of course not. I don't know why. One minute, they were my husband and my son, and the next, they had the devil in them." 

From behind her, Odessa's forearm was grasped gingerly. Whirling around, she was greeted with Dean's strained expression as he motioned with his head to follow her. "Those guys were whacked out of their gourds." He said as they both entered one of the several back rooms. 

Sam was by her side. "What do you think, multiple demons, mass possession?" He asked.

Odessa frowned, shrugging. "If this is a possession we're dealing with, there's obviously more out there." 

"God knows how many. It could be like a freaking shriner convention. Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town—you take it from the inside." Said Dean.

Sam shook his head softly. "I don't know, man. We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Tanner or any of the other usual signs." 

Dean didn't seem to care. "Mm, well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster," He said, "You know, if you would have taken out the other one, there would be one less to worry about."

Odessa furrowed her eyebrows together, scoffing at his immaturity. "Hey, back off, he hesitated. We've all done it before. It was a kid he was aiming his gun at." She retaliated.

"No, it was an 'it'. It's not the best time for a bleeding heart, Essie." 

Rolling her eyes, she directed her attention back on the doctor whose heels were clicking against the marble flooring. "Terrible. What the hell happened out there," She asked in response to Sam's question about Beverly's health. Dean evaded her inquisitive gaze, muttering a 'we don't know'. "Yeah? Well, you just killed my next-door neighbor." 

Dean, along with Odessa, didn't see the big deal about the situation. "We didn't have a choice." He replied. 

 "Maybe so, but we need the county sheriff. I need the coroner." 

Odessa stepped forward. "Can't, the phones are down. All signals are down. I'd suggest we use our radio, but it's crapped out like everything else." 

The doctor exhaled sharply. "I don't understand what is happening."

"How far is it to the next town?" Dean asked her.

"It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder." 

Dean looked away. "I'm gonna go down there and see if I can find some help," 

Odessa felt a forceful jab on her lower back, and she knew what Sam was hinting at. "And apparently I'm coming too! I'll just be outside...waiting for you," She bypassed Dean's analytical gaze as pushed passed Sam's broad shoulders and entered the hallway. Pulling open the door, she inhaled deeply as the fresh air traveled through her nose and hair. The air in there was beginning to grow unbearably thick, and this new atmosphere was refreshing. 

Swiftly entering the passenger seat, Odessa was welcomed with the all-too familiar scent of leather and cologne, and she instantly felt at home. The Impala rocked as Dean entered, and the hinges of his door creaked as he closed it. He chanced her a glance, to which she responded with a bashful smile. Her stomach flipped, and her heart fluttered as he smiled in response.

Ever since his unequivocal confession hours prior, there was a distinctive connection developing between them, and she was entirely certain he was experiencing the affiliation as well. She couldn't fathom her strenuous thoughts into words, but their tether didn't need explaining. They both now knew the emotions coursing through each other's veins, and words couldn't illustrate the significance of their feelings. To know there was a slim possibility of a romantic correlation was enough to make their lives immediately durable. 

The engine roared as he turned the ignition alive, and the wind traveled through the crevices of her charcoal-black waves. The ominous bank of clouds above concealed the sun's brilliance, and constructed a chilly breeze as they drove down the desolate street with the windows down. The verdant green of the trees whooshed passed in blurs of mushed colors, and was quite aesthetically pleasing to admire. 

There was approximately thirty-five more miles remaining and there was nothing to speak of between the two. Craning her head, she directed her attention from the blur of trees to his glimmering eyes. She couldn't comprehend how striking his eyes were, and how compelling his eyes became with his intensive gazes, something she noticed whenever they've kissed, and they always seemed to form goosebumps down her skin. She also couldn't discern how beautiful someone could possibly be. His beauty surpassed his exterior, and was something deeper than his appearance, which wasn't all too bad either.

He, finally noticing her wandering eyes, glanced her way with a questioning look. "What? I got something on my face?" He asked, peering at his reflection in the rearview mirror. She grinned, and shook her head as Dean scratched at his cheek bone to remove whatever he 'found'. At the sight of her beaming smile, he couldn't restrain himself as the corner's of his lips tugged upward. "You're in a good mood," He mused, "What's up?" 

Her smile hadn't faltered for a second as she answered. "Can't I be in a good mood without a reason?" She teasingly asked, resting her head against her palm. There was no use of lying, knowing he would just see right through her, so she dodged the question instead.  

He frowned and half-shrugged. "Well, I mean, you could," He said, re-directing his gaze from the barren road to her gleeful demeanor. "But, I was kind of hoping there was a reason." Her cheeks were beginning to ache from the abundant amount of smiling she was doing, and this wasn't helping. 

For the first time in a long time, Odessa was more than contented, all worries were temporarily demolished and her prime focus was the man beside her. "Dean," Said Odessa, tone softer than the fabric of her shoes. "Nothing else can happen between us, it's too dangerous. For now, we've got to be just friends. You have to just look at me as a friend, nothing else." Dean didn't appear as bothered as she assumed he would, as anyone would when discovering their crush didn't want anything with them. In fact, he didn't seem troubled with her words at all; however, the only distinctive indication of agitation was his tightening grasp on the steering wheel.

He sighed heavily. "I don't want to be friends with you," He replied, and Odessa's breathing hitched as soon as the words escaped his plump lips. "I don't look at you like a friend. I look at you and see everything I've ever wanted. I look at you and I want to kiss you, kind of like right now." The words fell from his lips effortlessly, and she envied his capability of expressing his emotions with ease. 

A ghostly grin rose, and she chuckled. "Look, I know I'm sending mixed signals, but it's just because I'm confused, and I'm scared. I don't know what to do," She said, eluding his gaze. "I just need time, that's all I'm asking for."

"Take as long as you need," He reassured, "Like I said, I'm willing to wait—what the hell?" He gradually slowed the Impala and parked behind an abandoned vehicle. There was smoke swirling in the breeze from the engine, and shards of glass were everywhere. Grabbing the double-barreled shotgun from the back, he slowly opened the door and stealthily exited the car door. He glanced back at Odessa. "Stay in the car. Let me just check this out." She opened her mouth to protest, but pressed her lips together when he closed the door on her.

Crossing her arms, she reclined against the chair, watching as Dean crouched beside the abandoned vehicle's door, displaying a discarded blade with glistening blood staining the sharpened metal. Furrowing her brows, it wasn't until then when she realized there were splatters of blood all across the shattered windshield and the trunk. This wasn't some accident, she thought to herself, this was murder. 

Tossing the blade aside, Dean hurried back inside the Impala and turned on the ignition once again, and engine rumbled with vitality as they sped down the road. She was going to speak, comment on the copious quantity of blood staining the concrete, propose some form of interpretation of the situation, but the absurd scene before them as they drove stopped her from doing so. Dean slowed, and examined the row of strangers. They were standing in front of their parked cars, a variety of guns perched in their hands aimed at them. There was absolutely no way for them to escape this scenario. And there in the middle of this gang of crazed men was the son of Beverly.

The sound of the engine idling was the only thing that could be perceived in this silent showdown. There was an abrupt knock on the roof of the Impala, and it shook the entirety of the car. Both Odessa and Dean were shaken from their thoughts as they flinched in response. Their heads snapped in the direction of the source. "Sorry, roads closed." The unidentified man said, crouching to face them.

Odessa raised her eyebrows. "I can see that, what's going on? Is there construction going on?" She questioned, feigning a perplexed expression and tone. The man's voice and face lacked any source of emotion as he replied back, explaining this was a quarantine. "Quarantine? They say what it is?" 

The man merely frowned and shook his head. "No, don't know what it is. Something going around out there." 

Dean nodded gradually. "Uh-huh. Who told you that?" He asked, and the man didn't hesitate to reply with a simple 'county sheriff'. "Is he here?" 

"No. He called," He said, and paused, sneaking a glimpse at Odessa, something that didn't go unnoticed by either of them. "Say, why don't you get out of the car, and we'll talk a little." She restrained herself from kicking his nose and breaking his bones, but Dean didn't seem to mind if this were leading to a physical altercation. 

"Well, you are a handsome devil, but she's not getting out of the car. Not unless I'm there with her." 

The man smiled widely, and there wasn't anything remotely welcoming about it. "Well, then, I'd sure appreciate if you both got out of your car, just for a quick moment." 

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Yeah, I bet you would." And then he hastily reversed the Impala with such speed, Odessa didn't have time to comprehend what the hell was going, though she guessed this was how it always was with the Winchesters. The tires screeched and she tightened her grasp on the windowsill as she opposed the momentum of their sudden turn. She closed her eyes as her stomach churned and shoved her face into Dean's arm to settle herself from the force.

The voices were becoming distant and fainter by the second. She slowly opened her eyes, and took a quick glance at the windshield, inspecting the road for any of the members of group. She lifted her face from Dean's bicep, glancing behind them with wary eyes. "What the hell was that," She questioned aloud, "Some kind of infected, zombie squad? They're barricading the town..." She trailed off, realization dawning upon her delicate features. "They're going to spread whatever the fuck this is."

Dean took his eyes off the road, placing his heavy gaze on her. "I don't know what the hell is going on, but we're gonna stop it. We always do," She grinned softly.

"Promise?" She asked.

He smiled back, the kind of smiles that girls wish they received and nodded. "Promise." Returning his attention back on the street, his eyes widened as he hastily pressed down on the breaks. "Son-of-a—" He raised his arms in surrender as he took in the sight of the man he spoke with earlier with a rifle aimed at both of them.

He shouted at them, demanding them to exit the car. Odessa, also with her hands raised, opened the door and gradually exited the vehicle. "All right. Easy there, big guy." Dean said, and she stood on her feet, and with haste faster than either of the men could process, she yanked her handgun from her waistband and aimed it at him. Dean quickly followed after her, and she couldn't deny that they looked utterly beautiful with determination plastered on their glorious faces and weapons aimed high and fingers on the trigger. "Put it down!"

"Are you one of them?!" The man shouted.

"No, are you?!"

"No!" 

"You could be lying!" 

"So could you!"

"Just a suggestion, instead of shouting and pretending we aren't six-fucking-feet away from each other, we should use our goddamn inside voices and put the guns down," Her sharp voice captured both their attention within seconds, and they both obliged to her orders and lowered their guns. Only slightly. "We could do this all day, so let's take it easy before we kill each other." 

The man's face tightened. "What's going on with everybody?" He asked. Dean replied instantaneously with a simple 'I don't know'. "My neighbor, Mr. Rogers—" 

Odessa snickered, despite how inappropriate the situation was. "You've got a neighbor named 'Mr. Rogers'?" 

He shook his head. "Not anymore. He came at me with a hatchet. I put him down. He's not the only one. I mean, it's happening to everyone." 

Jutting his chin in Odessa's direction, Dean shuffled on his feet. "We're heading to doc's place. There's still some people left." 

The man shook his head once again. "No way. I'm getting the hell out."

Odessa spoke up, "You can't. They've barricaded the bridge. There's no way out," The man claimed he didn't believe her, and she chuckled humorlessly. "All right, stay here. We'll send you a postcard when we make it out of here safe and alive." His face made his contemplation evident, and he too grabbed his handgun and entered the backseat. "See, we're bonding already. You know, excluding the lethal weapons."

<<>>

Pam, the disbelieved nurse, exclaimed, "You're gonna kill Beverly Tanner?" Odessa, too, found the suggestion slightly absurd, even though unquestionably necessary. Killing the deranged mother was merely a precaution, especially since she attacked Sam with a surgical scalpel. Although she understood how troublesome witnessing her death may be for these people, it needed to be done. 

Sam stepped forward. "Doctor, could there be any treatment? Some kind of cure for this?" He asked, and Odessa was hoping there was something for this gruesome disease. Well, they were certain of two things; one, the disease is transmitted through exchanges of blood. Two, the disease leaves remnants of sulfur within the blood. And after pondering the disturbing images of Beverly's son slicing his arm and trickled down his blood on her open wound, everything was beginning to make sense. 

The doctor's bottom lip quivered as she blinked frantically. "For god's sake, I don't even know what 'it' is." She asserted, hands placed on the edge of the desk and Odessa saw her fingers curl as she spoke, transforming into a ghostly pale. She had every right to be nervous and frightened. Her friend became some infected monster and she watched as the life departed from her eyes, even though she wasn't dead. And everyone was depending on her for answers she didn't have.

Sarge's aim hadn't faltered from the closed door. "I told you, it's a matter of time before she breaks through," He declared. 

Pam eyed Sarge's gun warily with wide eyes. "Just leave her there! You can't shoot her like an animal." She proclaimed.

Dean called out for Sam, motioning for him to open the door enclosing Beverly Tanner inside the room, and he obliged and stood beside the doorway. Odessa grabbed her handgun as well, preparing herself for incoming attacks. From behind her, she heard as the doctor and Pam flinched at the abrupt sigh of weaponry and stepped back as much as they could. Sam unlocked the door and pushed it open, Sarge and Dean entering the room hastily. "Mark. What are you doing," Beverly blurted from the corner of the room. "Mark, it's them. They locked me in here. They tried to kill me. They're infected, not me. Please, Mark! You've known me all your life. Please."

Odessa positioned herself in front of Pam and the doctor while enduring a protective stance. From where she stood, she could hear Dean whispering without using her enhanced hearing. He needed confirmation if Beverly really was infected. Her words were getting to Sarge, and it was affecting his capability to end her misery. All Dean needed was Sam's validation for him to barge into the room and press the trigger three times. 

Odessa flinched each time. She wondered if this job was ever going to become easier.

<<>>

Sharpening the onyx-black blade Odessa received from Dean several months ago, she warily evaded his decisive expression. Both she and Sam hadn't spoken since the incident involving Beverly's death, and she didn't want to either. She understood that there was no other choice, well, there was and that was take pity on her and allow the remaining townspeople become infected. But Dean, he was nearly monstrous when pressing the trigger and for mere second, Odessa didn't recognize him.

She'd done her fair share of impassive murders, and she was absolutely certain she resembled something far worse than a monster, but it was outlandish when witnessing the dreadful alteration materialize with someone else; however, Dean's stoic demeanor was daunting and arousing, and Odessa couldn't decipher which was more concerning. 

From the distance, there was glass shattering and a feminine shriek rang through the corridors. Odessa's pondering of trepidation and arousal ceased as she dashed through the doors of the room where the scream derived from. Pam dropped what Odessa assumed were vials of contaminated bloods and she frantically examining her body for any contact with the blood. "Why are we staying here? Please, let's just go." Pam pleaded. 

Dean shook his head. "No, we can't, 'cause those things are everywhere." He said, intervening on Pam and the doctor's conversation. Pam closed her eyes tightly and crouched, placing her hands on her knees as she mumbled to herself and began breathing heavily. The doctor began calming her down, and Odessa stepped back inside the hallway when concluding they were fine. 

Sam turned to the four of them. "She's right about one thing. We can't stay here. We've got to get out of here, get to the roadhouse, somewhere. Let people know what's coming." 

Odessa nodded, crossing her arms. "Yeah, good idea, but how are we gonna get out of here?" 

"I'm not sure we got a choice," Sarge said, "Lots of folks up here are good with rifles. Even with your hardware, we're easy targets. So, unless you've got some explosives..."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but his attention was captured elsewhere. "We could make some." He said, stepping forward and grabbing one of the many plastic containers on top of a metal shelf.

From the distance and outside, there was shouting for someone to allow the voice in and banging on the glass windows. Sarge brought them in and it was revealed this was Duane Tanner, Beverly's son. They brought him to the examination room and sat him on the table. When demanded he be examined, the doctor was seconds from applying her latex gloves when she noticed the large laceration on Duane's leg. It was then they all became hesitant on Duane's health and Dean ordered Odessa to grab the ropes from the other room to restrain him.

She hurried out the room and searched through the several bag for the ropes, but froze when Sam's words echoed through the thick air. She wondered if they forgot she could hear them from rooms away. "This is my vision, Dean. It's happening."

"Yeah, I figured." Odessa furrowed her eyebrows, listening intently.

"You can't kill him, all right? Not yet. We don't know if he's infected or not." Grabbing the rope she found seconds prior, she clenched her jaw and stealthily exited the room and drew in closer to where Sam and Dean were speaking with hushed voices. 

"No, I think we're pretty damn sure. Guy shows up out of nowhere, got a cut on his leg, his whole family is infected." 

"All right, we should keep him tied up, and we should wait and see." 

"For what? For him to hulk out, infect somebody else? No, thanks. Can't take that chance." 

Odessa stepped inside, tossing the ropes where Sarge was standing and scoffed as she witnessed their tight expressions. "You dicks," She muttered, leering in closer. "That's why you guys didn't tell what your vision was. You were worried how I'd look at after," She affirmed, "You didn't want me to know you're gonna kill some innocent guy. So you kept it from me instead."

Dean sighed heavily. "Hey, look, I'm not happy about this either. But it's a tough job, and you both know that." 

She inched forward, and sneered through gritted teeth. "It's supposed to be tough, dumbass. We're supposed to struggle with this. That's the whole point."

Dean feigned a sarcastic smile. "What does that buy us?"

She scrunched her eyebrows together. "Well, for one, a clear conscience—" 

"It's too late for that." 

He pushed aside her shoulder, and she yanked him back with such force he stumbled back. "What the hell is going on with you, you prick," Dean furrowed his eyebrows in response, replying with a simple 'what'. "You're gonna kill some man, who's probably innocent, and you don't even give a damn." 

He looked down at her with animosity. "Since when do you care about killing innocents, Essie," The way he spat out her nickname was almost as if he we belittling her. "'Cause seems to me you sure as hell didn't care before."

Recoiling with disbelief, she scoffed and glanced at her shoes with tears brimming. "So much for solving this together," She whispered, voice wavering. "You know what, screw you, Dean. Every time I feel a little hope for us, you always do some crap to take that away from me," She retaliated, "Do what you want, I'm done here." And with that being said, she walked out of the room and directed her attention on sharpening her blades once again.

<<>>

Odessa watched Sam's detached expression tentatively as he clutched gauze the wound he received from Pam, the distressed nurse who'd been infected with the virus. He hadn't spoken a word since the incident, and she was beginning to worry for his health as time continued forward. She was perched beside him in spite of the protests of her doing so, and placed her minuscule hand atop his much larger one. She was attempting to push aside the burdening thoughts of him transforming into one of those monsters, and how she wouldn't be able purse through another loss if a trigger was pulled on him.

Fortunately, excluding these events, Dean hadn't killed Duane Tanner, for whatever reason.

She wasn't complaining, though. She was more than relieved when there wasn't an echoing gunshot filling her ears as she wedged two blades in her waistband. But, as of now, her relief was short-lived and she was suffused with uncertainty and anguish. Dean's frantic behavior wasn't assisting anyone, either. "What does she need to examine him for," Sarge's deep-seated voice shattered the distraught atmosphere. Dean was demanding the doctor she examine his wounds once more, as if there'd be any significant development. "You saw what happened." 

Odessa gnawed on her lower lip persistently as she closed her eyes and eased her bubbling anger. She felt Sam squeeze her hand reassuringly, and she sighed slowly. "Did her blood actually enter your wound?" The doctor asked, attempting to lessen the tension between Sarge and Dean.

Sarge wasn't pleased with the question, though. "Come on, of course it did!" 

Gradually opening her eyes, Odessa spoke in a voice softer than everybody else's. "We don't know that for sure. There's always a possibility—"

Duane's voice suddenly appeared from the back of the room. "We can't take a chance." 

"You know what we have to do." 

"Nobody is shooting my brother." 

"He's not gonna be your brother much longer. You said it yourself!" 

Odessa pushed herself of the examination table, eyes blazing with menacing brutality as she glared daggers into Duane's bloodshot eyes. "Nobody is shooting anyone," 

"He was gonna shoot me!"

Reaching for the gun in her waistband, she aimed it high. "Keep threatening him and he won't be the one shooting you."

Sam didn't seem fazed with the intensity exchanged between either of these people, and merely peered through his lashes. "Essie, calm down. They're right. I'm infected," He said, voice low and reserved. "Just give me the gun, and I'll do it myself," Odessa shook her head, claiming he wasn't doing anything along those lines. "Odessa, I'm not gonna become one of those things." There wasn't anything remotely calming of the way he used her full name. 

"Sam, we've still got some time." Dean said. 

"Time for what," Sarge questioned, "Look, I understand he's your brother. And I'm sorry, I am.  But I've got to take care of this." He cocked his gun, and Odessa raised her own, more than prepared to press the trigger on him. 

Dean glanced her way. "You make a move on him, you'll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me," Sarge didn't say anything. "Do I make myself clear?!"

"WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO?!" Sarge shouted, vein protruding from his neck and forehead. For a moment, nobody said anything, but Dean fished around inside his pocket. His keys jingled as he tossed them to Sarge.

Dean spoke apprehensively, "Get the hell out of here. That's what," Sarge's face contorted into bewilderment. "Take my car. You've got the explosives. There's an arsenal in there. You two go with him. You got enough firepower to handle anything now." 

"What about you two?" Sarge asked, referring to Odessa and him.

Odessa and Dean fixed their gaze on each other. Both their eyes revealed everything they were going to do, and wanted to say. They both nodded at each other, and they already knew what they were wordlessly saying. 'I'm sorry' and 'I forgive you'. 

"Dean, no. Odessa, god, no," Sam affirmed, "Go with them. This is your guys' only chance." 

Odessa smiled through the pain. "You're not getting rid of us that easy, Sammy," As Dean forced the others to leave, Odessa sniffled and blinked away the threatening tears. "You're my best friend, and if you think I'm not gonna spend your final hours with you, you obviously don't know me too well." 

Tears were brimming around Sam's beautiful eyes. She wondered if this was the last time she'd ever get to admire them. "Guys, don't do this. Just get the hell out of here." 

Dean glanced around the room. "No way." 

Sam licked his lips and evaded their watery gaze. His voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Give me my gun and leave." 

"For the last time, no, Sam." Dean whirled around, but his attention was captured by the bang deriving from Sam as he banged his fist against the table and claimed this was the dumbest thing they'd ever done. Dean frowned. "Don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" He shuddered. 

Tears were streaming down Sam's face. "Dean, Essie, I'm sick. It's over for me. It doesn't have to be for you. No, you can keep going." 

"Who says I want to," Odessa froze, turning to face him and mumbled a apprehensive 'what'. He sat down on the metal desk across from them, taking out his gun. "I'm tired, Sam. I'm tired of this job...this life...this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it." 

Odessa inched forward, eyes wide. Sam spoke her thoughts. "So, what? So, you're just gonna give up? You're just gonna lay down and die? Look, Dean, I know this stuff with dad had—" 

Dean shook his head lightly, hardly perceptible. "You're wrong," He mumbled, "It's not about Dad. I mean, part of it is, sure—" Before Dean could continue further, there was clattering in the distance and footsteps approaching, then there was knocking on the door. The doctor was standing in the doorway when Dean unlocked the door and opened it.

"You've got to see this."

<<>>

There was nothing more beautiful than the sensation of relief in a dire situation, warmth of loved ones beside you as you sipped inferior beer, and beholding the wonderful sight of lake that continued on for miles. When discovering Sam wasn't infected, Odessa cried for what felt like hours as Sam simply held her and rubbed her back reassuringly. Everything turned out pretty all right, excluding the multiple deaths and mysterious disappearances of the townspeople.

"So, last night—you want to tell me what the hell you were talking about," Dean feigned a confused expression as he pretended he didn't know what he was speaking of. "What do I mean? I mean you said you were tired of the job and it wasn't just because of dad."

"Forget it." 

Odessa swallowed her beer. "No way, absolutely not. My interest has been piqued." She said.

Dean smiled tightly. "I thought the three of us were gonna die. You can't hold that over me." 

Shaking her head, she grinned. "Nah, don't pull that crap with us. You're talking."

"And what if I don't?" Dean asked, laughing as he stared off into the lake.

"I own a whip and I won't hesitate to choke you with it," She frowned, realizing how wrong that sounded. "With your weird fetishes, you'd probably enjoy that. Give me a sec, let me think of a new tactic." 

Dean remained silent for a few seconds more. "I don't know, guys. I just think maybe we ought to go to the Grand Canyon." 

Odessa furrowed her eyebrows. "What?" She asked aloud, chuckling.

"Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across the country—do you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. or Hollywood—see if we could bang Lindsay Lohan."

Sam's amusement demolished. "You're not making any sense."

Dean blinked. "I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we got to get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit." 

Sam furrowed his eyebrows together. "Why are you saying all this," Dean glanced away, turning his back towards them and sipped his beer. Sam abruptly stood on his feet and inched closer to him. "No, no, no, no, no. Dean, you're my brother, all right? So, whatever weight you're carrying, let me help a little bit." 

"I can't. I promised," Both Sam and Odessa muttered a 'who'. "Dad." 

Sam stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

Dean looked away. "Right before Dad died...he told me something. He told me something about you."

Sam's eyes widened and his breathing quickened. "What," He whispered, "Dean, what did he tell you?"