I felt as though my soul had been smacked out of the back of my body and I was living outside of it. The faint light from the hallway showed pools of blood surrounding Gramma, her body mangled nearly beyond recognition.

I started to hyperventilate and wheeze.

Gramma...Gramma...Gramma!

"Gramma, Gramma...GRAMMA!!!" I screeched and rushed over to her body. There was no way she was alive...there was just too much blood. But even as I knew that, I flung myself down beside her, trying to pull her head up. As I grabbed her stiffening head and arm, I felt a nauseating hesitation, something inside telling me, don't touch, it might not be safe, but that odd, insensitive voice of reason was drowned out by the little girl inside of me wailing her agony.

"No, no, NO! Gramma, stay with me, stay with me, it's ok. I love you. You're going to be fine, we've got to watch that movie tomorrow, remember? You're gonna be fine, it'll be ok, GRAMMA!!!" I screamed as my brain began catching up on the facts that she wasn't breathing, and that her skin was cold, waxy and white. Just as I felt myself crumpling and sobs begin to wrack my body, I heard someone screaming my name. Out of the fog surrounding my pain, strong arms wrapped around my waist and flung me backwards. I hit the floor behind me hard, just as I saw what had been hiding in the corner the whole time.

A woman.

With a large spike protruding out of her wrist.

But she was still hiding.

That was when I heard the hiss and growl. I looked over and saw Dean being attacked by another creature with long claws, like the werewolf, but smaller. It looked like a deformed young woman, writhing and clawing, snarling and biting.

"LYNN!! Go get SAM!!"

Dean's voice stunned me out of my fog and I scrambled to my feet and flew down the hall, slipping on the blood on my shoes, screaming Sam's name.

I hadn't even reached the entry way when Sam bolted through the door.

"IN THERE!" I screamed, pointing behind me. Sam did not hesitate but flung himself around me and into the foray of crashing in the living room.

I felt sick...so, so sick. I lifted my fingertips to cover my face as I felt my body bending in shock, but the metallic and acrid smell of blood assaulted my nose, causing me to look at my hands. They were shiny and slick with the deep red of drying blood. The sight of my hands trapped me in a mental world where that was all I could see, hear, sense: my hands, covered in the blood of the one human I loved more than any other in the world.

I turned my hands over slowly, carefully, almost like I was examining the damage. I was captivated by the horror, the blood lining the wrinkles on my knuckles, a small drip sliding down my wrist, soaking into the cuff of my sweater. No detail escaped my fixated gaze, every fraction of a second stretching on in everlasting terror. My stomach had been retching, and was suddenly still. An eerie paradoxical peace washed over me. Like I was untouched by anything, even as the blood began to darken as it dried.

Suddenly, like a wind blowing out a candle, it was like I was in reality again and I could hear. The noises coming from the living room were unlike anything I'd ever heard, even with the werewolf. I nearly ran back in after Sam when I realized it would be foolish to just rush in without a weapon. I dashed around the corner and scrambled to the kitchen where the china cabinet was.

If silver could kill a werewolf, maybe it will help with whatever things are in there...

I wrenched open the cabinet drawer and pulled out a latched box. I fumbled with the latches, the blood still on my hands inhibiting me from gripping them. Finally getting it open, I grabbed a handful of the beautiful silver knives Gramma had said would one day be my own.

The thought of Gramma's voice as she told me that laughed at me, cried at me, screamed at me, taunted me as I dashed back out of the kitchen, down the hall and to the living room doorway. I dropped the extra knives on the floor and took one in each hand, holding them so when I made a fist in front of me, the blades pointed down. So when I attacked the creatures, I could stab and stab and stab...

The sickening nausea of fear and grief that had drowned me like a tidal wave had been replaced by an adrenaline and fury like I had never felt before as I flung my hair over my shoulder and gripped the knife handles until my knuckles were white. Taking in the room, I blocked out Gramma on the floor to see Sam fighting the girl with the spike, while the wolflike girl fought Dean. They'd flung themselves around the room, circling and punching, scratching and wrestling, all the while the guns lay, seemingly useless, near the lifeless form on the floor.

The spike creature had Sam pinned to the ground, attempting to strangle him, while the wolf-girl sent Dean flying across the room and into our small propane fireplace. It was summer, but we kept the pilot light on to keep the room warm when the nights got cold. After the shattering of glass, I heard something hiss and break while Dean ran at the girl and the two of them went flying towards the stairway at the opposite end of the room. I whipped my head back around to Sam who suddenly seemed to be losing his battle with his nemesis, his face going red...then deeper red.

I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know if it was going to work. Heck, I didn't even know if anyone was going to get out of this alive. But the fury that had built inside me raged in me and somehow created a calm. A deadly calm.

I was going to kill her.

Stalking quietly, calmly along the edge of the room, just out of the creature's eye-line, I held my knives, my right hand poised and ready, my left carefully putting it's knife in my back pocket. I started to feel panic rise as I saw Sam struggling, and failing, his face going blue, but I knew freaking out wasn't going to save him. Just one...more...step.

I raised my right hand high above my head, placing my left hand on top of my fist and silenced the quivering in my stomach. I noiselessly aimed and then plunged the knife down with all my strength into it's back, just to the left of it's spine, to the right of it's shoulder blade. It immediately released Sam, it's hands raising up in shock. The fury inside me grew and smouldered into a searing numbness as I twisted the blade around, clumsily attempting to ascertain death.

Sam had gasped for air the second the creature let go and after two fast breaths, pushed the body off of himself. It's stunned figure fell over, taking my knife with it in it's back. Sam pushed it away from him, trying to get his breath back, rolling it onto it's back. Small twitches were all that remained of the evil life it had had coursing through it. I looked at Sam while he looked at me, wide eyed and clothing askew, small blotches of blood staining his clothing. He had a gash down his one cheek, and the beginnings of a shiner on his left eye, but otherwise he appeared ok. He nodded behind me, causing me to turn and look just as Dean and the other creature plowed back into the living room. Dean had a knife in his hand and the creature was trying to rip it out with it's claws, tearing into the skin on Dean's hand, the deep gouges causing blood to spurt onto the already decimated floor.

The fury within was dwindling and I felt the fear returning just as I saw Dean, by brute strength alone, stand up from his crouched position and smash the creature's back into the wall by the fireplace. Once. Twice. Again. Sam silently slid the knife out of my back pocket and gripped it in his large hand, confidently stalking towards the struggle.

As Sam approached them, Dean gave a particularly violent shove to the creature and ended up slamming it into the fireplace. The small amount of propane released into the air, coupled with the clothing of the creature being shoved into the pilot light, caused it to burst into flame. At that exact moment, Sam used one hand to grab Dean's shoulder, pulling him back, using the other hand to drive the knife deep into the creature's chest. The flames actually leapt around Sam's hand as he pulled back from the stab, the creature screaming in agony once and then falling to the ground, still except for the flames dancing on it's body, licking hungrily for more to devour.

The brothers looked up from the dead enemy on the floor to meet my eyes, while the flames began to find their food. The broken drapes and scattered blankets were quickly set on fire and the flames began reaching for more. The smell was cruel, bitter, metallic, acrid, disgusting. Sam and Dean jumped around the flames towards me, just as the fire hissed and snapped and ate up the carpet where they had been standing moments before.

"We have to get out of here!" Sam said on my left. I looked at him with disbelief, unable to move my legs or speak. I simply looked down and saw, as if for the first time, my Gramma's lifeless body laying in the midst of the gore and the chaos, the flames beginning to lick at her already.

"NO! Gramma, NO!" My voice returned in violent staccato as I lunged towards her body, the fire eating at her clothing.

"Lynn! Come on, we've got to go! NOW!" I heard someone shout, but I was crying too hard to tell who. Someone wrapped their arm around my waist and began dragging me out of the living room and back down the hall.

The last thing I saw of my home was bloody footprints criss-crossing all over the hall, illuminated by the eerie glow of the insatiable fire, and my Gramma's favourite chair, upended, slowly being engulfed by the ceaseless flames. Someone scooped me up and buried my head in their shoulder as they carried me out of the house that had been my home. My refuge. My safe place.

Someone was talking to me...I needed to answer...what did they say? What was I supposed to say? I blinked a few times, trying desperately to get a grip on myself, my soul still feeling out of my body. What seemed like hours was really seconds as we made our way to the Impala. I now knew it was Dean carrying me and I looked back at my home, the windows showing the gleam of the fire already.

As surely as I had snapped out of myself, I snapped back in, realizing hysteria would help no-one now...there would be time for that later.

"What do we do? What do we do?" I grabbed Dean's shoulder and shook it as I watched the house burn.

"We get outta here, that's what." Dean said quietly and opened the car door for me. I hesitated, but he pushed my back so I would get in, shutting the door behind me. Sam slid into shotgun and Dean made the tires squeal as he backed onto the road and took off.

"Shouldn't we call 9-1-1?" I asked wearily, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

Silence pervaded within the vehicle as Sam and Dean looked at each other, then back at the road.

Finally, Dean spoke, "you call, Sam. Make it good."

Sam nodded and reached inside the glove box, pulling out an older style cellphone.

"Hi, yes, I'd like to report a house fire...yes, it's at," Sam looked over his shoulder at me.

"245 Westway Avenue," I said blankly, "Anne and Lynn McIntyre."

"Yes, Anne and Lynn McIntyre's house, 245 Westway Avenue, Ennisbrooke." Sam was silent for a moment.

"Why yes, certainly, my name is," and Sam shut the cell phone before taking it's SIM card out and throwing the card out the window.

I numbly watched him throw the card out and roll the window back up. Silence once again ruled the car's interior, the only noise being that of the Impala's engine revving aggressively as Dean broke every law of the road with the speed he was going. I leaned back and closed my eyes, pursing my lips hard.

"Where are we going?" I waited for a moment before opening my eyes and meeting Dean's in the rearview mirror.

"I'm not sure." Dean licked his lips and glanced at the road before he continued. "But we're taking you with us. Something is going on and you seem to be a part of it. Until we figure out what it is, we can't stop it, so you're not safe." I felt my eyes roll back into my head as I let out a moan of anguish.

"What does it matter?" I whispered.

"What's wrong, Lynn?" Sam asked gently.

I took a shaky breath in, "what does it matter if I die or not? I," I felt the tears begin to flow, "ha-a-ave...nothing...left!" I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to still the sobs that began to rack my body.

I'm all alone with two strangers to take care of me. My Gramma is dead. My entire family...is DEAD! I don't know what's going on or what I'm going to do...I don't even have a square one to start from...it's all gone. It's. All. Gone.

The sobs had begun to get uncontrolled and I didn't care. I was coughing and gagging and stuffing my sweater sleeve in my mouth in a feeble attempt to try to get control back. I didn't even notice the Impala slow, or the look exchanged by the two brothers as Sam got out and climbed into the back seat with me. I barely felt the lurch of the car speeding down the highway again.

A hand reached out tentatively and rested gently between my shoulders. I looked up and through the blurred vision of my tears I saw the outline of Sam. I moaned again and leaned into him, his hand moving across my shoulders and his arms wrapping me up like a little lost child while a fresh set of sobs began.

I felt bad...guilty, that he felt he had to do this. That they felt the need to take care of me and comfort me. I'm too independent... too strong, too fiery to have to have someone coddle and care for me. I have to be strong...I can't...I can't. I can't. I can't.

I can't do this.

I can't DO this.

I felt the vibrations in Sam's chest as he shushed me and held me, rubbing my back slowly, up and down, down, and up and down again.

At some point I choked and had to stop crying to breathe. At some point the sobs eased due to exhaustion. At some point I fell asleep, Sam's arms still cradling me as Dean drove as fast as he dared, on and on into the dark night.

***

I woke up feeling sore all over. I hadn't opened my eyes yet, but I knew I was laying down, covered in blankets and cuddled into something. I opened my eyes but it hurt so bad that I couldn't see anything.

Ugh...my eyes are super swollen...why are they swollen?

Realization hit me like a sucker punch in the guts and I rolled on my back, lifting my hands to hold my head and rub my eyes in an attempt to be able to see clearly again. I felt tears starting against my will, so I sat up on my elbows and inhaled deeply, then exhaled deeply.

I squinted one eye open, looking to my left, and I could fuzzily see an alarm clock radio saying the time was 5:37am. I looked to my right and realized it was Dean I'd been cuddled into. He was sleeping peacefully, deeply, so I tried to move as little as possible to not wake him. I leaned up a little higher and saw Sam sprawled out on another bed, snoring softly.

I felt sick. So sick. I wanted to moan and flail around, but I was too crusty and gross and tired to even try. Plus the last thing I wanted to do was wake the men who were helping me and being so selfless towards me. I guessed they'd carried me in after I fell asleep in the car, tucking me into the bed, blood, jacket, shoes and all. Wait...

I shuffled my feet slightly under the covers.

No, they had taken my shoes off.

Even in the grimness of my circumstances, I felt myself smile softly as I leaned back down into my pillows.

I can't believe they took the time to do that for me...

I rolled onto my side and gingerly cuddled into Dean's sleeping form, trying to find some warmth and comfort from the familiarity, as thin as it was. I was aware enough to realize that normally I would be analyzing and freaking out about intentions and my actions and creating a flurry of anxiety, but I just didn't care. I was too tired, too sad to care.

Sad.

It's such a little word.

I felt like I wanted -needed- to convey so much more pain and anguish when I tried to find words to express how I felt, but the only word I could use that could come close was that tiny word, sad.

But like, deep sad. Not sadness, deep sad.

This wasn't supposed to make any sense to anyone, it didn't even make sense to me, but my brain whirled around that thought as I sunk back again into the blissful darkness of sleep; the darkness where I couldn't feel the pain of reality. The little word, sad.

I was sad. I was so sad.

And I was never going to feel better.

Never.

I remember Dean shifting in his sleep. I remember him making me stir slightly by his movements, asking me if I was ok. I don't remember answering, but I do remember him wiping something off my face. Maybe I had been crying. Then I remember feeling close and warm and safe as he pulled me closer to him. And then I fell asleep, a dreamless sleep of suspended pain...not having it in the moment, but feeling the anxiety of knowing it will be there when you awake.

In Dean's sleep his arms tightened around me and I allowed myself to believe, even just for a moment, that maybe...just maybe, I was not alone after all.