"Dean!" Scarlett yelled, looking franticly in the rushing waters below them. Any number of things could have happened. He could have hit his head on a rock, gone into shock from hitting the water too hard, or even gotten hypothermia from how cold she was sure the water was, judging by her ability to see her breath.

A figure covered in mud caught her eye, as it trudged onto the bank. "Yeah." She recognized Dean's sour tone

Scarlett let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, while Sam answered. "Hey, are you alright?"

Dean rolled onto his back, attempting to catch his breath as well. "I'm super." He touched his pointer finger to his thumb.

Scarlett through herself back over the railing, happy to have both feet on solid ground. "You okay?" Sam tilted his head to look at her.

She nodded, tucking a hair behind her ears. "Phantom cars is a first," she chuckled. She looked over her shoulder where the sound of dripping water and sloshy shoes came from, to find Dean walking up. Scarlett took a couple of paces towards him, before falling back again. "I'd think about hugging you, if you didn't smell like a pile of ass."

Dean frowned, brushing the excess mud off of him as he lifted the hood to the Impala to see the damage. Sam stepped next to him, before doing the same move Scarlett did and backed away. "Car alright?"

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, it seems alright now," Dean huffed. "That Constance chick, what a bitch!" He yelled.

Sam cleared his throat. "Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure." He looked back at his brother, who was leaning on the hood of the car. "Dude, you really need a shower."

"And you get to bunk with Stinky all night," Scarlett teased.

"I sincerely hope there's only one room left," Sam countered.

As if the younger Winchester spoke it into existence, there was only one room left for grabs. "We have quite a few newcomers, on the search for that missing boy," the older woman croaked. She sounded sweet enough. "One is the best I can do."

Scarlett glared daggers at Sam, as Dean threw his credit card down on the desk. The woman slid her glasses up her nose as she read the information. "Are you all here for a reunion, or something?" They all looked at her, very clearly confused. "Another man, Bert Aframian, came and bought out a room for the whole month."

Realization slapped them in the face and curiosity got the best of Scarlett. "Was another man with him?"

"Uh, y-yes," she nodded. "You know, you look a lot like the other man. Not Mr. Aframian, but his friend."

Scarlett backed away from the desk abruptly and averted her gaze. She got a key down and handed it to Dean and they went on their way.

"I looked at the sheet of paper while she was looking for keys," Scarlett murmured. "They're in room ten."

Instead of making way to their room, they went right over to room ten. Scarlett knocked softly on the door, but there was no answer. The door was locked, of course, so she dropped down and pulled a bobby-pin out of her hair and picked it with ease. Sam followed behind her, but Dean was lost in his thoughts. Sam grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him into the room, sending dust from his muddy clothes flying into the air.

It was very clear to see that this had, in fact, been where their fathers had hidden out. There were missing posters littering the walls, along with old newspaper clippings and other information tacked to the walls. The room was a disaster. There were clothes splayed all over the floor and old food wrappers sitting on the nightstand.

Dean clicked on a light and smelled of a burger which made him retaliate in disgust. "They haven't been here in a few days, at least."

Scarlett kneeled down to observe the white ring that surrounded the beds. "Salt, cat's eye-shells..." she rattled off.

"They were worried, trying to keep something from coming in," Sam noted. "What's over there?" He asked Dean. Scarlett looked in his direction, before joining the two.

"Centennial Highway victims," Dean answered, looking over each sheet. "I don't get it. Different men, different jobs, ages, ethnicities. There's always a connection, right?"

Scarlett nodded, looking along the other walls. Above the printed version of the article they had read earlier was an annotation written in the same red ink that was in the note her father left for her. It read 'Woman in White'. Scarlett flicked the light on, revealing more pictures surrounding it. "They figured it out," she murmured. Sam and Dean looked back at her, intrigued. "They found the same article we did. Constance Welch. She's a woman in white."

Dean looked back at the pictures on the wall. "You sly dogs." He turned back towards Scarlett. "If we're dealing with a woman in white, they would have found the corpse and destroyed it."

"She might have another weakness," Sam added, looking at the notes surrounding the article.

"Our dads would make sure," Scarlett assured him. "He'd dig her up."

Dean nodded his agreement, joining them by the article. "Does it say where she's buried?"

"Not that I can tell," Scarlett shook her head. "If I were John or Charlie, though, I'd go straight to her husband, if he's even still around."

"Why don't you see if you can find an address and we can hit it up in the morning. I'm gonna go get cleaned up."

Dean started for the bathroom, only stopping when Sam started talking. "Hey, Dean, what I said earlier about Mom and Dad--I'm sorry."

Dean put his hand up, cutting him off. "No chick-flick moments."

Sam released a breath laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, jerk."

"Bitch." Dean's lips curved upwards ever so slightly into a crooked smile, before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Scarlett walked around the room, seeing all sorts of evidence that it wasn't just any hunters that had inhabited the room, but their fathers'. There was a picture of Scarlett, her dad and her older brother laying across the nightstand with a Rosary next to it. She couldn't have been more than six in the picture, making her brother close to eleven. She cleared her throat, opting not to think much of her family's past. "So, tell me about this girlfriend that's totally out of your league," she recalled what Dean had said. She sat down on the edge of the messy bed, giving her attention to Sam who was also looking at an old picture.

He put the picture back in its original position and tucked his hands in his pocket. Bashfully, in true Sam fashion, he shrugged his shoulders. "Jessica is great," he started. "She's smart, funny, incredibly gorgeous..." he shook his head, walking towards the other bed to sit. "She really is out of my league." He laughed. "You and Dean still—,"

"Definitely not," she was quick to cut him off. "He broke into my apartment and started on about our dads...probably the same talk he gave you."

"Minus the breaking and entering part."

"You're welcome," Scarlett chuckled, resting her hands in her lap. "But, no, I hadn't seen Dean in about three years, before then."

Sam tried to hide the surprise that hit his face, but Scarlett saw it clear as day. He looked towards the clock on the wall, clearing his throat again. "I'm gonna go ahead and shower in the other room, unless you want to go first."

Scarlett waved him off. "I can wait. Thanks, though." She was only thankful he didn't ask why.

The door closed behind Sam, leaving Scarlett to wander around the room and at least attempt to tidy some of the disaster up, as well as try to piece together any agenda they may have had.

It wasn't long after Sam's departure that Dean left the bathroom. "Man, I had mud in places you wouldn't believe." He looked around the room, not expecting to find Scarlett alone. "Where's, uh, where's Sammy?"

"In the other room, showering," she responded, choosing to ignore the fact that he was shirtless.

He nodded, running his hand along his stubbled jaw. "You find anything that might point us in our dads' direction?" His eyes scanned the slightly cleaned room.

"No," she kept her eyes planted on a single spot on the floor.

Dean took a couple of steps closer to her, making her throat run dry, but her breathing hitched entirely whenever he sat down next to her. "We haven't really had a chance to...talk." Judging by the look on her face, it didn't seem like she wanted to talk. "Y'know, about that summer."

Scarlett pursed her lips into a straight line, allowing her shoulders to rise and fall. "There's nothing to talk about, Dean."

"But there is," he objected. His frown was met with the deepening of the crease between his eyebrows. "You almost died-,"

"But I didn't," she cut him off sharply. "I didn't die, but you left in the middle of the night," her voice quivered, but she quickly steadied it, swallowing down the remorse. "It was three years ago. We were still kids, for all intents and purposes."

Dean stared down at his hands for a heartbeat, before cutting the tension in the way he knew best—a crooked grin. "You thought I drowned when I jumped off the bridge. You were scared."

She shoved him gently, rolling her amusement-glinted green eyes. "I was concerned, there's a difference."

"Right, right," he grinned looking down at her. He missed the way mischief blazed in her eyes like a fire, even when she didn't realize it. It was an intoxicating look.

The doorknob twisted and in one reflexive motion, Dean stood up from the bed and Scarlett moved over an inch from where their arms had only just been touching. Sam's eyes flitted between the two, having caught a glimpse of their rushed movement. Just as before, though, he didn't push questions. "The showers here are terrible," he chuckled lightheartedly. Scarlett could see he was curious as to what he'd interrupted, behind his words.

"Well, I think I'll go test that theory next," Scarlett responded, getting up from the bed and draping her bag over her shoulder.

Dean turned on his heels. He was wearing the same deep frown as always. "You're sleeping there?"

"Yes..." she raised an eyebrow. "Sleeping in here feels weird. But feel free." She gestured to the crime map that intertwined the room. She grabbed the key from Sam and closed the door behind her.

The room was only a mere five doors down from where the Winchesters would be sleeping—far enough away to have her own space, but close enough that she didn't have to fear being outnumbered by any one monster.

Scarlett was quickly able to see what Sam was referencing. Maybe she was spoiled to consistently decent water pressure and clarity in her own apartment. Or maybe she really had outgrown the motel hopping lifestyle.

However shabby the shower, though, the bed couldn't be beat in that moment. It had been an exhausting couple of days, as out of the game as she was. Her muscles ached even from the short time she had to hold herself up on the bearings of the bridge. 

It wasn't long after her head hit the pillow, Scarlett began to doze with the help of the rain pattering on the roof of the old building. Just before she fell completely asleep, she was brought awake by the sound of pounding coming from the door. Frustrated, she threw the blanket off of her and marched over to the door and opened it, revealing Dean standing in the rain. "What the hell are you doing, Dean?"

"I, uh, I couldn't sleep," he said. "Can I come in?" Scarlett stepped aside so that he could get out of the rain. "SJ, I can't stop thinking about our talk earlier. I know you said it was three years ago, but it still feels like yesterday to me. Losing you was the hardest thing I've ever gone through. I love you."

"Dean, we can't-,"

He cut her off by pressing his lips to hers with so much force that it took her breath away. It caught her off guard in the best possible way. After the initial apprehension, she slinked her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss.

Scarlett jolted upright in bed at the feeling of a grip around her ankle. Dean was standing there in his leather jacket and blue jeans, staring back at her. It was the typical way to wake a hunter. She was awake...she'd been dreaming. The realization of what she'd dreamt up flooded back to her, making the heat rush to her cheeks and her stomach cut a flip. Defensively, she pulled the blanket up over her chest and frowned. "Don't you know how to knock!"

Dean's eyebrows peaked with curiosity. "What dream did I interrupt?" He smirked, catching a glimpse of one of his hairs straying in the mirror just briefly. He took her annoyed grimace as a response. "You slept in," he commented. "I was going to go grab some breakfast while Sammy listened to his message from Jessica and looked for that address. You feel like riding with?"

Her green eyes lit up at the mention of food, completely turning her mood around. "You had me at breakfast." She changed into a set of combat boots, a pair of jeans and a black shirt and was ready to go. It took all of her willpower to force down the remnants of the dreams, keeping them from resurfacing. Though, she'd catch a glimpse of him looking at her in a more than friendly fashion and that was all it took for her cheeks to flush again.

Silently, she followed Dean out of the hotel room and out towards the Impala. "Damn it," Dean turned around quickly and pulled out his phone. Scarlett was about to ask what happened, but as soon as she looked up, she saw the lady from the front desk talking to the same cops from the crime scene. "Dude, five-o, take off," Dean said into the phone.

"W-what about you guys?"

"Uh, they kind of spotted us. Go find Dad." Dean quickly flipped the phone down and turned to face the officers, just as Scarlett did. "Problem, Officers?"

Neither of the men seemed impressed, but that was especially the case with the deputy. "Where's your other partner?"

"What other partner?" Scarlett tilted her head, folding her arms in a similar manner as him.

The deputy pointed his finger for his partner to go and search the room, keeping his eyes fixed on Dean and Scarlett. "So fake U.S. Marshal, fake credit cards. You got anything that's real?"

"My boobs," Dean responded, maintaining the most composed expression, while Scarlett tried her best not to erupt in laughter.

The deputy's eyes shifted to Scarlett. "You think that's funny, huh?" He took a step towards her.

"I mean this with the utmost respect, when I say to back off." The humor drained from his face.

By then, the other officer had returned and slammed Dean down onto the car. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

Scarlett put her hands up in surrender, showing no fight, but still looking plenty pissed off about it. The shoved them both into the backseat and in the midst of the officers trying to get back into the car, she slid one of two bobby-pins she'd discreetly pulled from her hair into his hands.

Both of them were surprised that they were put into the same interrogation room, likely because it was the only interrogation room in the relatively small police station.

The sheriff walked into the room with them, carrying a box with miscellaneous things. He wore a disgusted scowl that led Scarlett to believe he wasn't going to let them go on his own accord. "Why don't you start by telling me your real names," he said, dropping the box on the table in front of them both.

"I told you, it's Ted and Angela Nugent," Dean spoke up again. He kept the same smug demeanor, and his grin never fell.

The sheriff tilted his head to the side, looking between the two. "I'm not sure you realize just how much trouble you're in, here."

Dean, being who he is as a person, spoke again. "We talking, like, misdemeanor kind of trouble, or 'squeal like a pig' trouble?"

"You've got the faces of ten missing peoples taped to your wall, along with a whole lot of satanic mumbo jumbo. You two are officially a suspect."

Before Dean could speak, Scarlett interjected. "That makes sense, considering when the first one went missing in '82, I was fresh out of the womb," she retorted. Dean looked at her, surprised with her ability to stand up to the authorities.

"I know you got other partners." The sheriff remained calm. "One or two, at least. A couple of older guys were sniffing around not long before you came to town. Maybe they started the whole thing," he shrugged. "Just on a whim here, Dean and Scarlett, is this one of theirs?" He threw down a old notebook just between the two of them. Scarlett recognized it as John's, and it was evident by the look on Dean's face that he recognized it too. "I thought that might be your names." He sat down on the edge of the table and opened the journal up, revealing pages that, to the normal eye, looked like something someone in the loony bin would've drawn up. "I leafed through this, what little I could make out. I mean, it's nine kinds of crazy, but I found this too." He opened up to a page that read 

DEAN + SCARLETT
35 -111

The two hunters looked at each other, both keeping quiet.

A couple of hours passed, but the sheriff wasn't letting up. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, we have no clue what those numbers mean," Scarlett insisted.

"So, we're just gonna do this all night?"

An officer poked his head in, flashing his eyes between the sheriff and the two in question. "Sir, we just got a 9-1-1," he said. "Shots fired over at Whiteford road."

He rose to his feet, clearing his throat. "Hope neither of you have to go to the bathroom." He grabbed a coupe sets of handcuffs from his pockets and cuffed them both to the table, before leaving the room.

Using the pins from earlier, they picked the locks on their cuffs. What few officers the town had were filing out of the station, either going home, or to the emergency call, so leaving out of the station was a breeze.

The ran a few blocks, before finding a payphone. Dean entered Sam's number and only a few rings went through before he picked it up. "Fake 9-1-1 call. I dunno Sammy, that's pretty illegal," Dean joked.

"You're welcome," Sam chuckled. Dean held the phone where Scarlett could hear it, as well.

"Listen, we gotta talk," Dean started.

"Tell me about it," Sam agreed. "So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. She's buried behind her old house-,"

"Sam, would you shut up for a second?" Scarlett interrupted him. "Our dads are gone. They left Jericho."

The line was silent for a moment, before Sam spoke again. "How do you know?"

"We've got his journal," Dean answered. Same old ex-marine crap when he wants us to know where he's going."

"Coordinates," Sam deducted. "Where to?"

Dean looked to Scarlett, who was unaware as she was listening intently. "I'm not sure yet," he admitted.

"Dean, what the hell is going on?" Just as the words escaped his mouth, Scarlett and Dean heard a gasp and a loud thud as the phone it the floor.

Dean's face fell immediately. "Sam? Sammy?" There was no answer. He slammed the payphone down, looking at Scarlett with a panicked expression. "We gotta go."

"Where?"

"To this bitches house."

Luckily they were outside of city limits, so breaking into a car was no issue. By the time they got to the old run down house that once belonged to the woman in white, they could hear agonizing screams coming from inside of the Impala. Dean grabbed a gun that was inside the box of things he'd taken back from the station and shot right through the front seat window. If it wasn't for the fact that he was saving his brother, Dean might have been pained himself. As he shot the iron bullets, the woman began to fade in and out of view before disappearing completely. 

Scarlett's eyes widened when she heard the engine of the Impala rev. She wasn't sure if it was Sam or the ghost controlling the vehicle. "Sam!" They both yelled, as the car went barreling into the side of the house. They ran after the car, checking on the younger Winchester. "Are you okay, Sam?" Scarlett panicked.

"Yeah, help me out." And they did. They watched as the ghost looked at a picture frame containing an image of her with her children. She looked hurt and enraged all at once. Her eyes dragged from the picture to the three hunters. 

Scarlett could feel the breath knock out of her chest, as she pinned them up against the car with a chest of drawers. Even with all three of them pushing, there was no budging the thing. Slowly, she started towards the three, but something stopped her in her tracks. All of their eyes fell on the staircase that water seemed to be flooding down. Two child-like figures appeared in front of the woman in white, holding hands. "You came home to us, Mommy." She looked down at them, almost horrified. However, nobody was more horrified than Scarlett, when the children gripped onto their mother and she started screeching and distorting until she was nothing more than a puff of smoke that drained into the floor.

The three of them shoved the piece of heavy furniture off, looking around. "So this is where she drowned her kids," Dean muttered.

Sam nodded. "That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them."

"Nice work, Sammy," Dean said, turning back to face the car that was sitting in the middle of the den. "If you screwed up my car, I'll kill you."

Aside from a busted headlight and a couple of broken out windows, the damage to the Impala was minimal. Against Dean's desires, they started back towards Sam's school. 

Scarlett sat up front with Dean, while Sam rested in the back. Fully captivated in her thoughts, Scarlett kept quiet as she stared out of the window. "You okay?" Dean broke into her thoughts.

Her head snapped over in his direction when she heard her voice. "Mhmm," she lied, plastering a forced smile onto her face, but she could tell Dean wasn't buying it. "I just...how are there some people out there that can have kids and do that? When there are..." she trailed off, not bringing herself to say the words.

"People who can't?" Scarlett nodded, swallowing hard. "They never said-,"

"Ninety-eight percent is pretty definitive," she interrupted him, knowing where he was going.

Dean stayed quiet, until they were pulling up at Sam's apartment. "For what it's worth, you would've been a great mom," he said, keeping his eyes plastered on something in front of him.

Scarlett's throat tightened up at his words. "You wouldn't have been like your dad." She mentioned what she knew to be his greatest fear. He loved his dad and respected him as a hunter, but that's all he knew how to do. Hunt.

Dean cleared his throat and shook his brother's leg. "We're here, man."

Sam climbed out of the car and looked back in at the two. "You'll call me if you find them?" They both nodded. "Maybe I can meet up with you both later, huh?" Scarlett knew he had no intentions of doing so, but it was a nice gesture.

Dean started back towards the interstate, headed towards where Sam deciphered the coordinates to be in Blackwater Ridge, Colorado. However, they didn't even make it all the way out of town when a brigade of fire trucks and cop cars dashed the way they had just come from. Dean looked at Scarlett with a look of fear she hadn't seen in so long. Right behind the trucks, he whipped back around and followed them. A fire had erupted in Sam's apartment building, but that was all the information he could get from the scene.

Sam didn't seem even slightly surprised when the car pulled back up. His eyes were hollow, but there was something in him that fueled some kind of hunger for revenge.

Whatever had killed their mother when Sam was a baby, returned and reenacted the scene on an unsuspecting Jessica.

Without speaking, Sam walked around to the trunk of the car and loaded a shotgun. He looked between Dean and Scarlett, before dropping the gun back in the trunk, before slamming it closed. "We got work to do."