—Hey guys! I would really really appreciate it if you guys left some questions here because I'd love to do a Q&A of some sorts. It's gonna be towards the end of the book. It's just gonna be some questions from you guys and questions I just felt like needed to be answered. They could be about anything, absolutely anything, ranging from the story to whatever you please. You can ask as many questions as you want. I would honestly really appreciate it so much.

—What color are your eyes? I have boring brown eyes :(

—Who do you guys think would tease the other under the table at dinner in public: Odessa or Dean? Odessa tbh lol

—Who would initiate dancing and kissing in the rain: Odessa or Dean? Probably Odessa, but Dean would pretend to hate the idea of it, but would secretly love it while they make out.

*TOWARDS THE END, PLEASE IGNORE ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. I PLAN ON EDITING THIS BOOK AFTER IT'S COMPLETED. I'M JUST EXHAUSTED AND DONE WITH THIS EPISODE. I CAN'T WAIT FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER.*

Before the phone call, Odessa was beginning to lose her mind. 

The amount of distress she was experiencing was commencing an unusual measure of concern from herself and Dean, primarily from him. Continuously, she had reassured him she was completely fine, though they be both knew she was lying, and she often ignored him when he claimed she hadn't properly slept for an entire week. Though she adored him for only being worried for her well-being, she couldn't sleep knowing Sam was missing and possibly dead. Much to Odessa's dismay, there wasn't a day where she wasn't reminded on how much caffeine she'd consumed, and how much she hadn't eaten. 

A week after Sam's disappearance, and several hours infused with coffee and searching, Dean received a phone call from the one and only Sam Winchester informing them of his whereabouts. There wasn't anything said after that, merely the sound of Dean's heavy breathing and the trickling rainfall. Both of them hadn't wasted another second and rushed inside the Impala, immediately following the directions for Sam's location. 

His room number was one-hundred-nine, and Odessa's eyes frantically searched for the designated room. She had practically dashed outside the Impala before Dean could properly park it, and her mind was clouded with the hundreds of possibilities awaiting for them. When arriving outside the Sam's room, Dean had repeatedly banged his fist against the wooden door before twisting the handle open. From the other side, she could hear Sam's faint breathing, the indistinct sound of his hear thumping in sync with her own.

Odessa quickly followed in Dean's pursuit, sighing in relief as she witnessed Sam's sorrowful figure perched on the edge of the mattress. Though her alleviation was short-lived as her eyes traveled down to the dried blood on his clothes. Eyes widened, she rushed over to his side and examined him attentively. "Are you bleeding? Are you okay?" She asked, eyes quickly roaming over his body, making sure he was fine everywhere else. 

He didn't chance her a glance, continuing to stare off into the distance. "I tried to wash it off," He muttered, and Odessa could hear the evident anguish in his voice. Dean, equally as concerned for Sam as she was, began searching for the source of the blood. "I don't think it's my blood." He said as Dean evaluated the blood staining his shirt. Dean didn't wait to ask whose blood was it. "I don't know." Sam said in response to Dean's question.

Odessa, with furrowed brows, removed her hand from Sam's clothes. "Sam, what the hell happened to you?" She questioned. He looked up from the blood, bottom lip quivering as his eyes flickered all throughout her face. 

"Essie, I don't remember anything."

<<>>

Regardless if Odessa stated she missed Sam, she certainly didn't miss his ceaseless bickering about her and Dean's relationship. Truthfully, she'd been wanting to tell Sam everything that happened while he was missing, but she didn't know if now were the right time to speak of her relationship. Sam seemed distracted, as if there were something much bigger on his mind. She didn't blame him, considering he was soaked in someone else's blood with no recollection of how. So, as of now, she was keeping quiet about her and Dean's relationship. 

The door unlocked and Dean entered the room with a brown paper bag in hand. Sam, who was staring intently at his reflection in the large mirror, turned around to face the doorway. He refused to sit down, despite how much Odessa pestered him, and she didn't disregard Sam's continuous glances where the blood was prior before changing into new clothes. "What did you find out?" He inquired as Dean stepped inside.

Dean stuffed his keys inside his jacket's pocket and settled the brown paper bag onto the table. "You checked in two days ago under the name Richard Sambora. I think the scariest thing about this whole thing is the fact that you're a Bon Jovi fan," Sam, bemused, simply said his brother's name, warning him this wasn't a time for jokes. "Your room's been quiet. Nobody's noticed anything unusual." 

Sam licked his lips, frustrated with this situation. "You mean no one saw me walking around covered in blood?" He asked. 

Dean frowned. "Yeah, that's what I mean." 

Sam spread his arms wide. "Then how the hell did I get here, Dean? What happened to me?" 

Odessa folded her arms, inching forward with a pursed smile. "Sammy, we don't know. But you're okay, and that's all that matters right now. Everything else, we can deal with later." She was hoping this would ease Sam's tension, even by a little bit. She didn't want him overthinking this situation when it could possibly be something small. 

Sam cocked his head. "Oh, really? 'Cause what if I hurt someone or worse?" Dean, exasperated with this conversation already, peered over his shoulder and declared his brother's name in a warning manner. Sam exhaled sharply. "What if this is what dad warned you about?" He asked, almost afraid of it himself.

Dean turned sharply. "Whoa, whoa. Come on, man. Let's not jump the gun. We don't know what happened. We just gotta treat this like any other job. What's the last thing you remember?" 

He stared off into the distance, eyes flickering as remembered his earliest memory. "The three of us in that motel room in west Texas. We went out to grab some burgers and—"

Odessa shared an apprehensive glance with Dean before stepping forward. "West Texas—Sam, that was a week ago." She said, uneasy.

He looked at her with a saddened expression. "That's it. Next thing I knew, I was sitting here...bloody. I felt like I had been asleep for a month." 

"Okay, retrace your steps. Manager said you left yesterday afternoon and never saw you come back," Dean said, walking to the window and pushed back the curtain. "Hey." He signaled for them to come where he was. There, on the lock of the window, was blood stained in the shape of fingertips, explaining how no one saw Sam roaming around covered in blood.

<<>>

Odessa, eager to leave the baleful motel room, suggested they wander around the vicinity of the motel in hopes of triggering some form of recollection. They eventually made their way to the storage unit across the street, where Sam informed them the area felt familiar to him. Following Sam's orders, Dean attempted to open one of the storage rooms, only to be greeted with a lock. Sam, suddenly remembering the item in his pocket, fished for the key and handed it. 

Upon unlocking the metal door, Odessa furrowed her eyebrows as she eyed the vehicle inside with disdain. Dean's replicated her own as he spoke. "Please tell me you didn't steal this." Odessa rolled her eyes, stepping inside the garage. The royal blue Volkswagen Beetle was laminated with dried mud and didn't appear to have been scrubbed in quite some time. She pulled open the door, scanning the interior closely. They followed after her and did the same. With wide eyes, Sam dragged his finger atop the steering wheel. displaying the his blood-stained finger. "Sam, back seat." Dean said, jutting his index finger at the floor of the back.

Odessa watched as Sam plucked a discarded blade from the back, the crimson on the edge glistened. His eyes were wider, if even possible, and his breathing hitched. "You think I used this on someone?" There was the possibility he could've, but she didn't think Sam would've ever purposely used it to end someone's life, unless it was self-defense. However, all these details weren't making any sense, and nothing was making Sam look innocent, but she wasn't going to say any of this aloud.

Shaking his head, Dean frowned. "I'm not thinking anything," He blinked absently, evading his gaze from Sam, who began wiping his prints from the handle. "Okay, now, this is disturbing." He commented, grabbing the carton of cigarettes. The top was opened, and some were missing. "Come on, man. This couldn't have been you. It could've been someone else—somebody who smokes menthols." Dean said after sniffing the cigarettes. 

Reaching forward, Odessa yanked a thin paper from the cup holder, quickly unfolding the sheet. Odessa concluded the digital lettering and prices printed on the paper was the format of a receipt. "I found a receipt from a couple towns over, we should check it out." And with that being said, they closed the doors and went on their way.

<<>>

"All right, receipt's for ten gallons at pump number two," Said Dean. "You getting any goosebumps yet? 'God, this looks familiar,' Deja Vu  vibes?" Sam shook his head 'no'. The gas station they arrived in wasn't anything extraordinary, nothing she'd think Sam was capable of remembering something distinctive. "Maybe someone inside will remember you. Come on." Odessa sighed, already wearied with this goose chase, and exited the Impala reticently. 

Pulling open the doors, she was greeted with a chilled breeze and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The bell above the entrance gently rang, signalling the cashier of their presence. The cashier tore his gaze from the magazine, and his eyes widened when taking in the sight of Sam's bewildered demeanor. "You—out of here. Now. I'm calling the cops," Dean, just as confused as the three of them, asked if he were referring to Sam. "Yeah, I'm talking to him. Jerk comes in yesterday, stinking drunk, grabs a 40 from the fridge, starts chugging it." 

Odessa chuckled breathlessly, jutting her thumb in Sam's direction. "Him? Are you sure?" She turned to face him, eyebrows scrunched together in puzzlement. "You were drinking? Since when have been drinking malt liquor?" She'd never seen Sam drink malt liquor, and if he had, she was never around when he did so. 

The cashier scoffed, his hand still clutching the phone. "Not after he whipped the bottle at my friggin' head," Dean, still completely gobsmacked with this newfound information, asked him again if he were actually addressing Sam. "What, am I speaking Urdu?" The man asked, peeved.

Sam, profoundly sincere, apologized for his previous behavior while clutching his chest. "I'm really sorry if I did anything—"

"You know what, tell your story walking, pal. Okay? Popo will be here in five." He said, raising the phone to his ear. Odessa gnawed on her lower lip, exhaling through her nose. Sending Dean an apologetic glimpse, she stepped forward and flashed her notorious grin. She tossed her ebony curls behind her shoulder, and feigned a coquettish expression. 

"He's leaving, he's leaving. Don't worry, just put down the phone. Sam, sweetheart, go wait in the car," Dean was quick to protest, having already been a victim of her charm, but she peered over her shoulder and the ferocity of her glare was enough to silence them both. "Wait in the damn car," She ordered through gritted teeth, and Dean gave her one of the most irked expressions she'd ever seen on him, but he obliged nonetheless. Waiting for them to leave, she plastered her lighthearted expression and inwardly prepared herself for the scolding she was going to receive from Dean later. "Sorry about them. They can be a bit dick-ish." She said after the doors closed.

"A bit?" She chuckled, despite how witless his joke was.

The cashier took notice of her coy way of speaking, and lowered the phone from his ear. She smiled once more. "I just wanna talk, ask a few questions, if that's okay with you?" She tilted her head, batting her lashes enticingly. He nodded and placed the phone down. "Yesterday, when he took off, which way did he go?" 

He scoffed once more. "Why don't you ask you him?" 

"Like I said, they're dicks," Odessa said, "Besides, you'd make things a lot easier for me." By now, she perched her elbows on the counter, peering at him through her lashes. 

"You know, your buddy didn't pay for the booze or the smokes, which he also illegally lit up."

"Wait, what? You saw him smoking?" 

"Yeah, guy's a chimney." 

Odessa refrained the urge to candidly roll her eyes and yanked whatever bills she contained inside her pockets. Tossing the money on the countertop, she straightened and folded her arms across her chest.The cashier hummed. "Hm, it's, uh, it's coming back to me now. He took two packs." Licking her lips, she exhaled sharply and searched through her other pockets. "He went north on route seventy-one, straight out of town," He said after she placed the remainder of the money on the counter. "So, can I get your number—" 

Grabbing three chocolate bars, she whirled around and pushed open the door. "I'd rather choke on my own tongue."

<<>>

Nightfall finally arrived and the twinkling stars weren't on display on the beclouded sky, and there wasn't any perceptible breeze where Sam directed them. The three of them were aimlessly driving on the interstate when Sam abruptly ordered Dean to make a right onto a side road. The house they approached was concealed by an assortment of towering trees and large brushes. Parking on the dirt road, the trio exited the Impala reticently as they eyed their surroundings cautiously. Stepping ahead, Odessa was quick to shield her eyes from the blinding light deriving from the large pole above. From beside her, she heard Sam speak. "Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises." Removing her hand, she saw the outline of a camera through squinted eyes. 

Trudging onward, Odessa tore her gaze from the camera above. "You don't say," She muttered. She wasn't in the best of moods, considering Dean was giving her the cold shoulder. She explained how her conversation earlier with the cashier was possibly one of the most bland interactions ever, and she tried explaining how she managed to divert his attention from calling the police and required the necessary information. He wasn't interested in hearing her pleas. Deep down, she knew there were other ways she could've acquired the information, but she also knew flirting was easiest and fastest way. "Should we knock?" She questioned aloud as they ascended the porch.

Sam stole a glimpse inside through the tinted windows. "Yeah, I guess," He replied, walking to the other side of the porch. Dean rubbed the sides of his mouth before knocking on the door. "Hey, look." Sam declared, gathering their attention from the screen door. Sam aimed the flashlight at the windowsill where there were shards of glass scattered on the floor and sill. 

Dean fished for something in his pocket. "I'm surprised the cops didn't show—place like this you'd think they'd have an alarm." Said Dean, pressing the button on the flashlight from his pocket. She tried peering inside, but the flashlight wasn't providing enough light. The thin, pale curtains were flowing in the wind, and gave somewhat an unsettling feel to the situation. 

The sound of metal colliding with metal rang through the eerie air, and Odessa's head snapped in the direction of the sound. Sam was standing on the opposite side of the porch. "Yeah, you would." He motioned for the both of them to make their way to where he stood, and they were welcomed with the sight of the powers of an alarm system, which were sliced off. They decided the best way to unravel the mystery of this place was to enter the inside.

The inside of the home was as chaotic as Odessa imagined it'd be. There was shattered glass distributed all over the floorboards, all furniture was tossed around or flipped over, and the faint smell of blood. Each step they took crunched the glass under their weight, and they wobbled over a few times. Turning around a corner, Dean hurried inside on of the several rooms, beaming the light over a male corpse. He gently kicked it, but there wasn't any response. He demanded Sam to turn on the lights while he flipped over the corpse. The blood was still damp, resembling a black hue, and it dribbled down a large laceration on the man's neck. "Dean, I did this." Sam said, appearing sick to his stomach.

Dean evaded his gaze from the bloodied figure. "We don't know that." Was all he said.

Sam, disbelieved, exclaimed, "What else do you need? I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood?" It was true, all these clues and details were leading to Sam, but Odessa refused to believe Sam was actually the perpetrator behind this. 

Dean craned his head to face Sam. "I don't know, man. Why don't you tell me," Sam didn't say anything. "Even if you did do this, I'm sure you had a reason—you know, self-defense, uh, he was a bad son-of-a-bitch—something." Dean sounded like he was having a difficult time believing himself. She'd understand self-defense, but who performs a precise laceration on the throat as self-defense? And if this man were a bad guy, Sam would've performed the murder simply, nothing extravagant. Dean patted the corpse's pockets. "He doesn't have any I.D."   

Sam made his way to the closet. "I need your lock pick," He said to no one in particular, and Odessa drew her eyebrows together in disarray. Before she could properly process his words, Dean grabbed the lock pick from the compartment inside his jacket. Sam swiftly yanked the device from his fingers and unlocked the secured latch of the closet door beside them. Inside, there were a wide variety of weapons, maps and illustrations of monsters, and different symbols and sigils. 

Dean stood on his feet. "Either this guy's a unabomber—" 

Odessa straightened. "Or a hunter." She finished off breathlessly. She looked at Sam, unable to picture him as someone capable of murdering a hunter. 

"Guys, I think I killed a hunter."

<<>>

After a series of disastrous events; such as the viewing of the security footage of Sam deliberately murdering this hunter, Dean's sudden outburst as he smashed the computer, and Odessa's inability to process everything appropriately, they returned to the motel. She wanted to believe Sam wasn't capable of doing such a horrendous thing, but after watching the footage of him intentionally killing the man, she didn't know what to believe anymore. "All right, we get a couple hours' sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror," Picking up on Sam's resignation and Odessa's gobsmacked demeanor, Dean sighed sharply. "Look, I know this is bad, okay? You both gotta snap out of it." Another moment of silence. "Sam, say something."

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean—that's what I did." 

Dean, unsure of what to say next, shrugged. "Maybe. We don't—shapeshifter." He affirmed, thinking of any possible theories. 

Sam scoffed, appalled with the mere suggestion of this being a shapeshifter. "Oh, come on. You both know it wasn't. You saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion." 

Odessa massaged her temples. "Yeah, Sam, but that wasn't you—I mean, technically, it was you, but it wasn't actually you." She wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure him or herself.

Evading his with resignation, Sam spoke feebly. "Well, I think it was," He said, settling himself down on the edge of the mattress. He sighed softly when noticing their confounded expressions. "I think maybe more than you." He intertwined his fingers and rested his elbows on his knees. It looked as if Dean was almost afraid of asking what he meant by that, as was Odessa, but he didn't stop himself. "For the last few weeks, I've been having these feelings," Dean turned his head, asking what kind of feelings. "Rage...hate. And I can't stop it. It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse." 

Odessa blinked owlishly. "You never told me this." She whispered, aggrieved with his lack of honesty. Well, she wasn't one to talk, she still hadn't told him she was currently in a relationship with Dean. But this wasn't the place or time to think about that.

Sam warily glanced from his hands. "I didn't want to scare you. Either of you."

Clicking his tongue, Dean nodded leisurely. "Well, bang-up job on that." He said sarcastically as he stood, smacking his thigh.

Toying with his fingers, Sam furrowed his eyebrows. "Dean, the yellow-eyed demon—you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too."

"No one can control you but you." Said Dean.

"It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean. It feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely, I'm just becoming—" Dean intervened with a firm 'what'. "Who I meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself, Dean. I got to face up to who I am." 

"I didn't mean this!" 

Sam abruptly stood. "But it's still true. You know that. Dad knew that, too. That's why he told you if it ever came to this—" 

Odessa stiffened as she narrowed her eyes. "Shut up, Sam," That certainly gathered both of their attention. "I don't care if Dean promised John, and I don't care if Dean promised you. We're gonna figure this crap out, all right? We always do. They're always a way, right?" She wanted him to reassure himself and say 'yes, there is always a way', but he didn't. 

Sam glanced down to the duffle bag on the bed. "Yeah, there is," He grabbed the gun from the zipper. "I don't want to hurt anyone else. I don't want to hurt you. Neither of you." 

"You won't. Whatever this is, you can fight it." 

Sam shook his head. "No, I can't...not forever. Here. You gotta do it." 

Dean peered down at the gun Sam forcibly placed there. "You know, I've tried so hard to keep you safe," And for a split second, Odessa genuinely believed he would've pulled the trigger. There was something about the way he spoke, something about the way he looked at Sam. It was the look you gave someone when saying goodbye. "I can't. I'd rather die." He released the gun from his grasp and let it fall back inside the duffle bag. 

"No. You'll live." Sam yanked the gun from bag once more. Dean turned around to face him. "You'll live to regret this." Before Odessa could process his cryptic words, he slammed the handle of the handgun on her temple. She fell to the floor instantly and was dragged into the darkness.

<<>>

Cradling the side of her head, Odessa closed her eyes as she pondered on the blossoming pain on her temple. There wasn't much she could think of, her thoughts were clouded by thumping flourishing all throughout her skull, but there was one thing she was certain of; how pissed off she was. She was grumbling in the passenger seat, glowering at everything that moved. "I'm gonna kill him," She sneered through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna kill him, bring him back, then kill him again. That was such a dick move." 

From beside her, Dean was unable to conceal his mirth. She rolled her eyes skyward, evidently bemused. "This isn't funny, asshole. Do you realize how hard it's gonna be to cover this up," She asked rhetorically, signaling to the empurpled bruise forming on her hairline. She'd been scowling at the imperfection for hours as Dean drove to Duluth, Minnesota. They tracked Sam's location from his GPS, but Odessa didn't care. She was more transfixed on the contusion forging. She rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just pissed off. Distract me, take my mind off things for now."

She didn't need to see him to know he had a suggestive smirk on his lips. "Careful, Essie," He taunted sensually. "You might give a man the wrong impression." She laughed, and her smile was as glittering as the stars above. Reluctantly opening her eyes, Dean stole a quick glance, a prideful smile rising when realizing he'd successfully brightened her mood. 

Amusement glistened in her eyes. "That might be true," Odessa said, "But there's not a man in sight. All I see is an adult with the mindset and hormones of a teenage boy." She teased, laughing once more when he merely rolled his eyes. 

The faintest of smiles rose on his plump lips. "Shut up." 

She arched an eyebrow in a challenging demeanor. "Make me." 

He shrugged nonchalantly. "All right, but you might moan."

She puckered her lips thoughtfully. "Then that defeats the whole purpose of shutting me up," Dean pondered on the thought for a brief moment before opening his mouth to retort something back. "No, no. We're not arguing about this now. Just make a right here." They arrived on a dirt road at some local bar. The usual, illuminated signs were turned off, meaning this place was closed for the night. They grabbed their weapons and exited the Impala, preparing themselves for whatever was inside. 

He grabbed her by the waist, pulling her in close as he kissed her momentarily. "You ready?" He asked, reluctantly pulling away.

She smiled wistfully. "As ready as someone can be when they're about to shoot their best friend." In sync, they both cocked their guns and turned the safety off before sprinting inside. Yanking the door open, Odessa aimed her gun high. "Sam!" 

Sam removed a large blade from the wooden beam he was tying a familiar blonde against. For a moment, Odessa's stance faltered, stunned to see Jo here of all places. "I begged you to stop me, Dean!

"Put the knife down, damn it." 

"I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right! Either of you kill me, or I'm gonna kill her! Please. You'd be doing me a favor. Shoot me," He stood back, spreading his arms wide. "Shoot me!" 

Dean shook his head. "No, Sammy. Come on." He turned around, grabbing something from within his pocket.

Sam, utterly astounded, shouted, "What the hell's wrong with you both? Are you both that scared of being alone that you'd rather let Jo die!" Dean hastily whirled around, splashing Sam with what Odessa assumed was holy water. Sam thrashed around and shouted in agony as the water sizzled his skin. Puffs of smoke filled the air.

"That's holy water, you demonic son-of-a-bitch!" Sam, with supernatural speed, spun around and displayed his black eyes. Dean splashed some more on him, Sam's demonic growls and groans echoing. He turned, dashing into the window and disappearing from view. Odessa didn't waste another second and sprinted after him while Dean untied Jo from her restraints.

Odessa didn't have time for mind games, and she wasn't necessarily in the mood for them either. Sam, or the demon, was messing with her, running around different areas to distort her hearing. "So, you got a name?" She asked aloud, wondering where the hell Dean was.

"I've got lots of names." 

Crouching and speeding forward, she ducked behind a canoe. She was in some storage docks near the bar, and there was the faint smell of sea water and fish. "You've been possessing Sam since he disappeared, huh?" 

"You should've seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic." 

"Yeah, ha ha, real funny. Why didn't you kill us? Could've done it whenever, but you didn't. Why?" There was a loud banging on the other side of the room, and she quickly craned her neck to see the source." 

"No, that would've been too easy. Where's the fun in that? See, this was a test. I wanted to see if I could push you both far enough to waste Sam. I should've known you wouldn't have the sack. Anyway, fun's over." Fed up with this goose chase, she vowed she'd make him pay for this. "How? You can't hurt me—not without hurting your little best friend. See, I think you're gonna die, Odessa. You and every other hunter I can find. One look at Sam's dewy, sensitive eyes, and they'll let me right in that door." Sam's heavy footsteps filled the air and she stood as she heard the door creak, his shadow departing.

At that moment, she didn't care. This was Sam, and she'd do anything to save him, and maybe she should've cared for her well-being in that moment, but she didn't. She wasn't going to shoot Sam, regardless of how many pep talks she gave herself about if this were the only option, she'd have to do it, but she couldn't. Stepping over to the ledge of the boardwalk, she eyed the black waves curiously. She didn't hear a splash, but then again, the waves could've blocked the sound. 

"ODESSA!" 

Whirling around with her black curls tangling in the wind, her breathing hitched as she watched Sam aiming his muzzle in her direction. For a moment, she thought she saw apprehension swirl in his eyes, but she was wrong. From her peripheral vision, she could she Dean sprinting towards her, much to her dismay, he wasn't fast enough. She heard the shot before she felt the pain. Odessa released a strained gasp as she stumbled backwards, colliding with the waves and perpetual darkness.

<<>>

Briefly, the darkness felt welcoming, like the crisp breeze in wintertime, but Odessa was reminded of how freezing the ocean can be. But there was a momentary warmth pressing against her lips, a warmth she only experienced with Dean. Opening her eyes, she coughed up the salty remnants of whatever sea water was residing in her lungs. She lurched forward, purging residual water. An undescribable, yet familiar, pain shot through her shoulder, and she released a groan through gritted teeth. "Where's Sam," She managed to mutter, disregarding Dean's relieved expression. "Is he okay? Where is he?" 

Dean held her firmly as Jo spoke. "I don't know. I've been looking for you two." 

Grunting as she attempted to push herself up, her arms and legs wobbled under her weight. Dean assisted her up on her feet, securely grasping her waist. "Whoa, easy, easy. Essie, you can barely walk." She ignored him, continuing onward. Everything was so cold, and everything was hurting. 

Jo steadied her as well. "Besides, the bullets still inside you. Stay behind, Dean and I will look for Sam."

Odessa paused, knowing what Jo was doing. She dug her fingers inside the opened wound, releasing a strained shriek as she gouged for the bullet. Tightening her grip on it, she yanked it out and tossed it to the floor. "There, nothing stopping me now. Now bandage me up and give me a blanket, then we're gonna look for Sam, all right, Mary Sue?"

<<>>

Odessa slapped Sam's face forcefully. "Bitch, if you don't wake the fuck up—" Dean grabbed her hand, preventing her from slapping him once more. After Odessa was patched up by Mary Sue the butcher, they drove to the nearest hunter's house; Bobby who, like the badass he was, successfully knocked the demon unconscious and tied him up under a devil's trap. 

The demon cocked his head tauntingly. "Odessa, back from the dead. Unlike Dean, maybe next time you won't be so fortunate." 

"Well, if you're planning on killing someone, actually know how to aim." She sneered between her teeth. "Slapping your smart-ass might hurt a bit, but I think I'll manage." 

"Careful now. Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging." 

Grabbing a metal pale, she smirked. "I don't think Sam would mind. Besides, this won't hurt him very much." She dumped the holy water of his body, grinning in satisfaction as the demon shouted and growled. "Any urge to speak yet?" 

"Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite his tongue." 

Cocking her head, the corner's of lips tugged. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you won't be in him long enough," She motioned for Bobby to begin the exorcism. "All right, whatever little bitch-ass plan you meat suits got cooking up, you're not getting Sam. We're gonna kill every single one of you first." 

The demon gave a sinister laugh. "You really think that's what this is about—the master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan. Oops. Doesn't seem to be working. See, I learned a few new tricks." He ducked his head and began reciting a Latin passage, one Odessa never heard of, and the fireplace ignited with larger flames. The house began to rumble and the wind was tossing papers everywhere. 

"This isn't going how I pictured. What's going on, Bobby?" Shouted Dean.

Bobby stepped forward, yanking Sam's sleeve down, revealing a burned mark. "It's a binding link. It's like a lock. It's locked itself inside Sam's body." 

"What the hell do we do now?" 

"I don't know!" Bobby shouted back. The ceiling cracked and particles came falling down. The devil's trap broke along with the roof. 

The demon stopped speaking, black eyes on display. "There. That's better." Withing seconds, he tossed the three of them to the walls, and Odessa was suffused with unbearable pain. "You know when people want to describe the worst possible thing...they say it's like hell? Well, there's a reason for that. Hell is like, uh...well, it's like hell, even for demons. It's a prison made of bone and flesh and blood and fear. And you sent me back there."

After several punches, everything clicked for Dean. "Meg."

"No. Not anymore. Now I'm Sam. By the way...I saw your dad there. He says 'howdy'. All that I had to hold on to was that I would climb out one day and that I was gonna torture you, nice and slow, like pulling the wings off an insect. But whatever I do to you, it's nothing compared to what you do to yourself, is it? I can see it in your eyes, Dean. You're worthless. You couldn't save your dad, and deep down, you know that you can't save your brother. They'd have been better off without you." 

Odessa watched as Bobby grabbed Sam's arm and burned the binding link, severing the link. The black smoke was emitted from Sam's body and he fell to the floor while Meg disappeared into the fireplace. "Did I miss anything?" Sam asked, clueless. 

Dean didn't waste another second to punch him right in the face.