A few hours later we were pulling into a junkyard filled with the shells of antique cars, their rust rotted corpses creating a scary sort of ambience despite the few aloof positives the guys had mentioned about "Bobby's place".

The drive had been uneventful. I sat in the back and didn't say too much, but I'd managed to avoid any emotional breakdowns. Both men kept looking back at me furtively, like at any moment I'd collapse. I managed a wavering smile for them each time; it wasn't their fault that I was practically a basket case of emotional trauma. They were actually the only ones keeping me anywhere close to sane at the moment.

Dean parked the Impala and he and Sam climbed out. I didn't move at first: wasn't sure I was needed. Normally, I'm a super talkative extrovert and I really wasn't sure how to handle this new personality I'd been rocking the past 14 hours or so.

Fourteen hours...that's all it's been. It feels like decades ago...

My thoughts churned as I twisted the fidget ring that I kept on my middle finger. I felt my eyes widening into an unseeing stare aimed at the floor of the backseat. I was basically zoning out. I only did this when I was super tired or crazy emotional...and at the moment I was both. I didn't know if it was a coping mechanism or a weird way to try to attract some attention, but at that moment I didn't care. My anxiety, as always, was a close companion and always made me overanalyze everything, so I never could determine my own motives or reasoning for doing things...even my rationalizations ceased to make sense.

In a plastic bag beside me on the seat was my other shirt and jacket. They were still damp, and I really needed to hang them up soon; I wasn't sure when I'd get another chance and the dampness could wreck them. Snapping out of my trance-like state, I grabbed the bag and got out of the car. Sam and Dean had headed over to a ramshackle sort of house amongst the cars and were seemingly waiting for me in front of the porch.

I blushed at my lack of courtesy in making them wait and hop-jogged over to the porch.

"You good?" Sam asked, glancing from me to the bag in my hand and back to me again.

"Yep." I answered quietly. Sam nodded. Dean cleared his throat, "I guess I'll, uh, I'll go first." Dean headed up the steps and Sam motioned for me to go in front of him. I moved slowly up the steps, Sam's hand ghosting the small of my back, almost like he was there to catch me if I fell. Dean knocked heavily on the front door, shouting, "hey Bobby! It's Dean and Sam and a friend," then stepped back and waited. After a few moments, the door opened and instead of a human, the barrel of a shotgun peeked out.

I gasped in terror and threw myself backwards, nearly tumbling down the steps and taking Sam with me. "Lynn, it's ok, Bobby's just making sure it's us." Sam assured me as I looked wide-eyed from him, to the shotgun, to Dean and back to Sam again. The bill of an old baseball cap was now visible, before an older man with a beard and a hunted, but sad sort of look in his eyes, lowered the shot gun and handed Dean a small glass of water.

"Take a swig," he instructed in a thick American drawl, "all of ya's."

Dean took a sip and then held his hands up as if in surrender. Sam took the glass from him and also had a swig before passing it to me.

"What is this, some kind of blood oath?!" I whispered fearfully to Sam as he handed me the glass.

"No-no," Sam actually chuckled, "it's holy water; Bobby's gotta make sure we're not possessed."

"Do we need to hold some silver to pass the shapeshifter test, or we good?" Dean was being kinda snarky to this guy.

"Watch your tongue with me boy. No, I'm only worried about demon possession at the moment, and unless that girl drinks, we can stand here 'til kingdom come if need be." Bobby sounded harsh, but smirked at Dean who returned a veiled grin of his own.

I was still stuck on possession. "Possession by...monsters?" I squeaked out.

"No, by demons." Dean explained. I guess my face registered my shock because Sam quickly added, "yes, demons are real too. And holy water is like acid to them, they can't be touched by it or consume it without extreme pain."

"So you get...us...to drink some and then you know if we have been possessed or not by whether it burns us or not?"

"Uh-huh!" Bobby nodded deliberately.

I swallowed thickly. "Is holy water...gross? Or is it like alcohol?" I sniffed at it nervously.

"It's just regular water that's been blessed. It's totally safe for human consumption." I nodded at Sam's explanation and took a sip. It had no taste and was...refreshing. So I downed it. I had not realized how thirsty I was.

When I lowered the now empty glass, Bobby looked amused. "Well, I guess we know she ain't a demon." Chuckling to himself, he swung open the door to allow the men and I to come in.

Inside had an old farmhouse feel. The kitchen was on our left and was definitely being manned by a bachelor. On the right was a sitting room and massive study. A large solid wood desk, a fireplace with no fire, mountains of books and maps all collided to give the place a homey, yet museum-like feel. I carefully left my bag of damp clothing at the door and wandered deeper into the house. I looked above my head and realized there were some symbols on the ceiling. A pentagram had been drawn with lots of other weird, cryptic shapes within the circle but surrounding the star. I hesitated once I saw it and Sam walked into me.

"Ooof!" he groaned, as he bumped me and nearly knocked me over. He looked at me confused, so I just pointed up at the pentagram and leaned into him,

"If demons are bad, why do we have Satan-worshipper-pentagrams on the ceiling?" I whispered stiffly.

Sam chuckled...again...

What's so funny anyways?!?

"No, that is not a pentagram, it is a demon's trap. It's construction, although similar to a pentagram, is actually very different and has an extremely useful purpose in the war against demons."

"It...traps...demons?" I said more like a question.

Sam nodded, "they walk in it and they can't get out until someone or something outside of the trap releases them by breaking the circle."

"Wow...there seems to be a lot I don't know." I said more to myself than Sam as we walked deeper into the study. Bobby had gone into the kitchen to grab beers for everyone (or so I thought I heard) and Dean had followed. They were both returning now, four beers in hand. Dean handed Sam one and Bobby went to hand me one, but I was dying of a different sort of thirst: "thank you so much Bobby, but I was wondering if it was ok to just have a..." I made a tall motion with my hands, "...very large glass of water. I feel so dehydrated and it took the holy water for me to realize."

Bobby raised an eyebrow and then smiled, "you sure can, Missy. Come with me." I looked at Dean and he nodded so I followed Bobby into the kitchen. Bobby pulled a glass out of a cupboard and filled it with water. I took it hungrily and guzzled it down in one go, setting it on the counter heavily and catching my breath. I didn't look at Bobby, I just said, "I guess crying too much will dry out a person, eh?" I smiled grimly before finally looking at Bobby. He was studying me before he shook his head and turned to fill my glass again.

"The boys tell me your name is Lynn McIntyre." Bobby began as he filled up my glass. I nodded. "And they tell me that you're Bobby." Bobby grinned a little and handed me my now refilled glass before saying in a fatherly tone, "And they would be right."

I realized then that I was pretty sure I was going to like Bobby. He seemed...safe. Something I had less of than ever before and found I craved more than ever before. Bobby walked past me back towards the study, motioning for me to follow.

Dean and Sam were standing, backs toward us, looking at some old documents on Bobby's desk. Beers in hand, they pointed things out to each other; sifting, turning, searching, for what, only they seemed to know. Bobby motioned for me to sit over on the small couch by the window. Despite being in a car for hours, I found my legs exhausted and grateful to sit down as I plunked myself into the couch cushions.

Bobby walked around the desk and pulled a large ancient book off of the shelf behind it.

"So boys," Bobby hesitated and looked over at me, "and Missy," he winked at me, making me smile like a little kid, "we've got to figure out what it is about a person that can attract not just one kind of monster, but many kinds."

My eyes widened, "many kinds?" I looked up at Sam and Dean, "so the dog-like girl wasn't a werewolf? And what was the other woman with the spike in her wrist anyways?" The men at the desk seemed to exchange looks before Dean turned to look at me, his expression tense. "The dog-chick was a kitsune. A monster that can revert into being a fox-like creature. They feed on the pituitary gland in the human brain." Dean paused, almost as if making sure I was taking everything in alright. I nodded casually, so he continued, "and the other creature was a wraith. It is an ugly, horrifying creature, but it hides its true form, by going around looking like a human. It feeds on human brain fluid that it gets from the spike-thing in it's wrist."

I frowned slightly, as if in thought. "So this...these monsters...all being at my house within 48 hours of each other...isn't their normal, uh, patterns, I guess?" I stammered, trying to understand what was real, and what was crazy in this new world I'd been so tragically thrown into.

"Nope...not at all." Bobby answered, but kind of like a question too...

"So then...something is after...me? Like you said last night, Dean?"

"We're not...sure." Bobby answered slowly.

"But it seems awfully strange, don't it?!" Dean said aggressively, holding his hands out in disbelief.

"Which is why, we are here," Sam interrupted any further tirade Dean may have had, "to see what we can find out: to know for sure that you are safe." I nodded and leaned back into the couch.

After a few moments of silence, Bobby spoke, "Dean, what day did the first victim go missing?"

"Six days ago." Dean answered as he flipped pages in a small dark-green book.

"And the second person?" Bobby continued.

Dean looked up from his book and stared at Bobby. "Five days ago."

"And which day did the werewolf attack Lynn and her grandmother?"

Dean looked at Sam, who was staring at Bobby intently before turning back to Bobby; "Three days ago."

"And you were with her most of the day..." Bobby let his voice trail off and Sam picked up on his train of thought, "Two days ago..."

"Yeah and nothing happened." Dean added.

"And then two different types of monsters attacked yesterday...like an extra one from the day nothing happened..." Bobby turned around to look at his bookcase again. He selected a slim volume off the second shelf from the top and opened it, leafing through the pages.

"Was the moon cycle right for the werewolf?" Bobby asked, not looking up.

"No, actually, it wasn't...we didn't even have time to think of that when it was happening." Dean looked at Sam and Sam shrugged his agreement.

I watched the entire proceedings with fascination. These men knew so much about what was going on...an entire world that most of the planet knew nothing about. And if anyone heard them talking they would have thought they were insane. And yet they weren't! The rest of us ignorant peons were the insane ones. Never stepping back for even a second to wonder if all these legends, all these stories, had any shred of truth to them. Why would all these people groups and elders remember and tell the stories of the fairies and goblins and witches and trolls? For entertainment only? I used to think so. But now I know...

"They were warning us." I said aloud, mostly to myself. Dean heard me and looked at me quizzically. I shook my head and blushed, but decided explaining myself would be my best bet.

"The stories, the legends, the folklore, all of it was to warn us; not to entertain us." Realization dawned upon my weary soul and I snapped my head up to meet Dean's eyes.

"You!!...you two!..." I stammered in disbelief and humour.

"We...we what?" Dean smirked but shifted uncomfortably.

"You guys were talking about the fairy curse because you thought it was real and it had something to do with what was going on!!" I giggled and then it rippled into a full on laugh. I laughed so hard my ribs began to hurt. Now as I was recounting their behaviour in my mind, it all made sense and made everything absolutely, deliciously hilarious. The side-stepping, the awkward silences, the weird glances and stuttering, it was because they thought it had something to do with the disappearances.

"Well, gee, it's not that funny, fairies are real and they are nothing to laugh at!" Dean huffed as I started to choke back the laughs.

"I'm...sorry...whew...it's not...that I don't...think they were real...it's the fact that," I took a deep breath and finally got control. "It's just the way you two covered for yourselves and how funny you made yourselves look." I wiped my eyes and grinned, "it all just seems so funny now that I know what I know."

"What's this fairy curse?" Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"It's what the town of Ennisbrooke was known for. A witch named Kawthra started it all..." I quickly explained to Bobby the story that I had heard Marcel tell so many times before.

"...and they have never found where the power went." I finished. Bobby had sat down in his chair, Sam pulling up another chair and Dean had wandered over and sat down beside me on the couch.

Bobby had his thumb on his chin, his finger tapping the side of his cheek. "Well boys...do you think their might be a connection?"

"Between Lynn and the fairy curse?" Sam countered.

"Between Lynn and Kawthra?" Dean added.

"I mean between Lynn, the fairies, Kawthra, the magician's nephew, anything!" Bobby leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk, lacing his fingers together in front of his face. "Let's make a theory and work with it until we get somewhere. If we need to rethink the theory, then we will then."

***

Hours passed and we still had little or nothing to go on. I had wandered into the kitchen, since I only seemed to be useful when they had questions about the fairy curse and hearing them talk about all this was getting to me. I sighed as I opened Bobby's fridge and took a look at what he had inside.

There were ham slices, milk, cheese, a few random containers, half a head of lettuce, rib sauce, ketchup, a tomato, mayonnaise, some ground beef, a number of bottles of beer and a few other random items. I closed the fridge and looked around the room. In one corner of the counter there was what looked like a loaf of bread, partially eaten. Beside the counter on the floor, there was a bag of potatoes...and what was that? I walked over and found a bag of onions tucked behind the potato bag. I picked one up and held it. An idea came to me. I looked at the clock, then back at the onion.

Why not?

I carried the onion over to the counter and got busy finding all the things I needed. Ten minutes later, I wandered back into the study with four plates of sandwiches balanced carefully on one arm and three beers dangling from the opposite hand. The men were deep into their arguments and didn't hear me walk in.

"NO! If the demons were running it, that means they have access to the fairies and that would mean the demons would be ruling the world by now."

"Well it certainly isn't witches because real witches don't use monsters to do their dirty work!"

"Well I'm so sorry, but do you have any better ideas?"

"Well, obv-ious-ly you dooo...!"

I walked over and placed the beers on the table in front of them before smoothly sliding the plates off my arm and in front of them. They immediately went silent. My face began to flame with embarrassment and anxiety that maybe I over-stepped my bounds, so I stuttered out,

"I-I didn't know what you guys liked, but I-I figured you should eat." I waved my hands at the four sandwiches neatly placed on the desk, one for each of us.

"You made these?" Sam whipped around to look at me. He did not seem angry, and relief flooded me. "yeah, I did. I hope that was ok, Bobby."

"That's more than ok, Missy...normally we don't eat 'cause we're all too pig-headed to stop for a second and make something."

"Wow, thanks Lynn!" Dean picked it up and smiled, his large hands making the massive sandwich look normal sized. He took a big bite and then moaned slightly, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. "Ohhh, Lynn, this-" he pointed at the sandwich, "this is amazing!" Dean said around his mouthful of food before closing his eyes again and savouring it some more.

By now Bobby and Sam had started in on theirs, "these are so good Lynn! Thank you so much. I haven't had a homemade meal in..." Sam's voice got soft and his words drifted off. He shook his head. "Anyways, in a long time. It's so good!"

"Well, thank Bobby!" I said around my own bite of food. I held up my hand to cover my mouth, "he had all the supplies."

"Yeah, but I can't make all that taste like this. How did you do it?" Bobby chuckled incredulously at his sandwich as he took another bite.

"Guys, honestly, you're very welcome, but they're only sandwiches."

"Eh, when you live on the road," Dean swallowed before continuing, "you never get this kind of stuff to eat. Ever. Sandwich bars always taste plastic. And man!..." Dean picked up one of the bottles, "she brought us beers! You're the real deal Miss Lynn McIntyre. And don't forget it!" Dean pointed at me with his beer before winking at me and diving in for another bite of sandwich.

I chuckled and took another bite of my sandwich. I felt warm and fuzzy inside, like helping these guys feel good made me feel good. This tiny feeling of...home. Like everyone belonged here. Like nothing was wrong. A sandwich and a beer and all was right with the world.

If only it were this simple.

As I watched them all hunker over the books again, this time sandwiches in hand, I realized that it wasn't this simple. Life was never this simple. But these moments...these were the ones to wish for, the ones to remember.

Dean looked up from the desk and over at me, and instead of smiling, he just...looked at me. I looked back, wondering what he was thinking. Finally, a small, satisfied smile ghosted around his lips, and something glowed at me from his eyes. It was warm and inviting and I wanted to be a part of it in this weird, connection sort of way. I blinked slowly and half smiled before looking back down at my sandwich. I needed to not get all emotional and read too much into things.

He was probably just wondering if I was going to finish my sandwich...no super-duper deep connection moment...

When I looked back up he was looking back at his book and arguing with Sam about the pronunciation of kitsune. And suddenly, even though nothing outwardly had changed, I felt the warmth inside me begin to dim. I leaned back into the couch cushions and felt the lostness start to creep back into my soul, it's icy fingers wrapping around my heart and lungs, bringing my anxiety to life.

I sighed heavily as I realized I had no control of these emotions. They were going to ride me and tear me to shreds and there was nothing I could to but let the hurricane rage. I felt the tears begin in my eyes and I set my sandwich down, rising to go find a bathroom. No one needed to see me cry.