Note: 

YOU GUYS!

A fantastic wattpader just gave me an incredible gift... She drew pictures to go with some chapters. And I'm adding them because she said I could and because she did such a good job and they're too perfect not to share. Thank you SO MUCH @Musicpotterhead, you're a goddess.

Tap on the photo to see the whole thing, guys, they're all beautiful. And I'm putting this message at the beginning of each chapter that has an image, so you all take a second and look at them. And tell Musicpotterhead how amazing she is. Because she is. She's amazing.

Thank you so much to everyone who's read, voted, and commented! Over the course of the last two weeks, the story flew past 200 votes, which means SO much to me!

*hugs everybody because you're all so sweet and perfect*

Phew. Okay, I'm tired. But I had to finish this for today. Since it's technically already Saturday and I intend to sleep long and hard now that I'm done writing this, I'm posting now rather than late morning tomorrow. Enjoy this (almost) 2AM update.

This chapter needs a little more of a heads up than most because it's pretty important to Anna's character and her story, so I highly suggest reading this note (long and chaotic as it may be), but skip it if you so please.

This is written in the third person personal perspective (as most of my writing is), but the character whose perspective you read will switch from section to section. I normally write pretty exclusively with Anna as the focal point, but for the sake of this very important chapter, I felt it was important to show a couple of other perspectives.

I originally planned to post a chapter on Anna's mother for chapter 50 or some other epic (*cough* overrated *cough*) number, but this was written for a request by the brilliantly kind and thoughtful reader, Sleepingcat0, who wanted to know about Chloe and some of her thoughts and feelings about parenthood and meeting John. I kind of like that an important chapter wound up buried at number 36, anyway. The best stuff happens unexpectedly in chapter 36 😉

ANYWAY, this is a really long chapter and few pieces of it have been alluded to in other chapters, because I've known this plotline for a while now. I just hadn't written it out. This follows both a plot in the present day and the timeline surrounding Anna's birth and the demise of her mother. Some big shit goes down, so I hope you've got your battle armor (aka a cozy sweater, a comfy seat, and a cup of hot coffee ☕️).

So, in the 'present' sections of this chapter, Anna is fifteen. Other sections will explain their time frame within the writing, so just read closely if you're concerned with dates or ages.

Glass Lives

"Morning, Maya," a short woman with cropped graying hair told her as she entered the elevator.

She just nodded a short greeting, knowing animosity would be detrimental to the mission but unsure how to carry on any sort of small talk. She'd been so low in the ranks for so long, and she was taking no chances on screwing this up. She was playing a tricky game as it was, and any minor failures could finish with disaster, up-ending everything.

"Maya," a middle aged man smiled at her and nodded in greeting as they passed on the fourth floor hallway.

"I love that blouse," said the twenty-something receptionist as she walked into the office.

"Thank you," she returned with a smile she hoped was more pleasant than ravenous. She hadn't seen this many people in ages. It made her hungry for something she couldn't have just now. But if she performed well enough, she would see the next phase, and in that kingdom, she would be free to take what she wanted. She burrowed herself deeper into the mind of her temporary placement. She didn't think much of people, as a general rule, but accountants were the most boring people on the planet.

Her job was quite simple, really. Fudge the numbers so the scumbag in sales could get the money he didn't deserve but would pay for with something much more valuable. She smiled a little to herself as she sat down at the desk in the back, struggling, to her great annoyance, to get past the accountant's walls.

Give it up to me, Maya, and this ends in five minutes, she growled to the inside. The wall didn't give, and she was silently snarling, her frustration beginning to show on Maya's face. She booted up the computer and sighed. I can break your barriers down, she directed the thought to her meatsuit. Then she wondered why she was bothering with formalities and warning this woman. She closed Maya's eyes and took a deep breath, twisting at the woman's consciousness until the wall crumbled to dust. Not sorry, Granny, she thought, feeling the rush of information as the dam broke.

She picked up on the computer password and made quick work of logging in, idly sorting through Maya's memories as she did so, working back in time, wondering if she'd always been so dreadfully boring. With a sudden burst, an emotionally charged memory from about fifteen years ago assaulted her. She flinched within the accountant's body, then absorbed a couple years worth of information and smiled a sickly smile.

"Oh, Maya," she said aloud, just quiet enough that nobody nearby could hear. "You are a special, special accountant, aren't you?" She smiled a little wider, realizing what a jackpot she'd just landed in by pure mistake. "I can't believe my fortune, really," she said with an arrogant roll of the shoulders. "Maya, you've made my day- Or should I call you by your given name, Chloe?"

()()()

He was shaken from the inside out as he hit the little red x at the bottom of his cell phone screen, effectively ending the most hazardous phone call he'd had in years. Dean's green eyes were narrowed and his entire body tense as he swung open the door to his car and stepped out of it, onto the pavement of the school parking lot. He didn't know what the hell was going on, and he wasn't buying a word of the story he'd just been sold. Whatever was going on, it implicated Anna, and he suddenly wanted to see her safe more than he wanted to ignore that call and everything it could mean.

God, but he would never get over moments like this one; moments when his world was swallowed by fears and facts that hadn't existed to him just a handful of minutes ago.

A crowd of faces in the distance parted as clumps of students boarded hellish yellow buses, and Dean heard the distinct sound of Kate's laugh just a couple seconds before he saw her and his sister walking toward the parking lot. "I'm just sayin', fifteen candles don't have the same ring to it."

"No, you idiot," Kate laughed and gave Anna a playful shove. "You're not even talking about the same thing anymore. They're all, like, fifteen and they're solving crimes and almost getting murdered. Who gets involved with a drug lord and high class criminal at fifteen just because he's his girlfriend's dad? No way. I'm hidin' from this dude before he breaks my legs."

Anna shook her head, grinning. She still hadn't seen her brother, and Dean just took the moment to watch her be a normal kid. He hoped he wouldn't be forced to shatter her reasonably stable world. He silently promised himself that he wouldn't unless it was more dangerous not to.

"Kate, you're way cooler than Archie; of course you'd be smart about it." She then noticed the Impala and her brother and indicated she saw him with a nod.

"Point stands. At fifteen? And I mean, the stuff between him and Veronica?"

"What even is Veronica? She's like, thirty years old and posh, living in a teenage body."

Kate snorted. "True." They stopped next to the Impala, and Kate looked at Dean with a pretend serious look on her face, offering a solemn nod. "Evening, Fred," she said as seriously as she could manage. Maybe he'd have humored her another time, but Dean didn't have the patience for a come-back, so he just tilted his head and frowned in confusion.

"Come on," Anna smirked as she swung open the passenger door. "You're not that old. You've seen Riverdale." She tossed her backpack inside.

Dean nodded distractedly, still trying to work through the last ten minutes in his head. "Right, yeah. The, uh, teen drama rip-off of a good comic book series."

Anna leaned over to Kate and stage-whispered, "I take it back. He is that old."

Dean gave her the closest thing he could manage to an affronted look. It would have been his reaction if he hadn't been distracted, so it had to be his reaction now. He opened the driver's door again and got into the car, trying to think even as he tried to put the call out of his mind so he could be present and not tip off his sister.

Kate laughed. "See you tomorrow. Listen to the song!"

"I'll get to it."

"Tonight. You'll get to it tonight."

"Pushy," Anna grinned and dropped into the passenger seat, adjusting her bag in the footwell and closing the door. She waved once more through the windshield at Kate. As soon as the brunette's back was to them as she climbed into her mother's car, Anna's smile dropped. "What happened?" she asked with surprising urgency.

Dean frowned. "What are you talkin' about? Nothing happened."

Anna gave him a bitchface that looked almost exactly like Sam's favorite one. "Well, great, now that you've gotten the whole white-lying thing out of your system, maybe you could give me an honest answer?"

At first, Dean just studied her face, trying to determine what kind of answer she thought might be waiting. A hunt on the other side of the country, one that could pull them away from home for more than two weeks, leaving her by herself all that time? Somebody they knew hurt or in danger? Something more personal, or something to do with their current biggest enemies; Abaddon and the intrusive Mark of Cain?

He also could answer her question in many different ways. He could blow her off again, repeating his lie. He could make up a story that she had no way of verifying. He could be honest, but there was no way in hell he was about to choose that option. "It's nothin' for you to worry about," he settled on after a moment.

"Dean," Anna sighed, sounding more weary than upset or angry. She shook her head in exasperation. "You know what? Whatever."

"How was school?" Dean asked because he always asked.

Anna rolled her eyes. "I don't get why you even ask. It's all the same shit, different day."

He looked sideways at Anna, slouched in the passenger seat. She pulled her hair out of a loose ponytail and let it fall over her shoulders. Dean turned the key and looked at her again, watching for a few seconds as she twisted the hair tie between her fingers."That's the point, kid," he said, and he eased out of the parking space.

()()()

"These people treat you like you've got some sort of plague," she told the man with unkempt brown hair and infinitely brown eyes. "And you don't even seem to care."

The man barely turned his head as he looked sideways at her, hands cradling a half-filled glass of something that looked much stronger than beer or wine. "I don't," he admitted in a smoothly rough voice. "They can think what they want. I'll be gone by morning."

She scrutinized him for a moment longer, then sat down on the stool beside him and waved over the bartender. "Something smooth," she requested. "And strong."

The bartender nodded and turned away, setting a glass of amber liquid in front of her just a minute later. She didn't bother speaking to the stranger again. It wasn't her way. She didn't know why she'd even come to sit beside him in the first place.

"Name's John," he said suddenly out of silence a few minutes later. He was still holding his glass with both hands, though it was empty now. He didn't offer her a hand to shake, and it was just as well. She had no patience for formalities these days. She had no patience, period.

"Chloe," she introduced with a similarly blank look. As their eyes leveled on one another, though, Chloe saw something in his that made her stomach burn. It was that look that spoke of life and loss. This man had seen some shit. "You're not from here," she said simply, forcing her eyes away from his without any further waiting.

"No," John confirmed and didn't elaborate.

"I am."

John nodded once in acknowledgement. "That matter these days?" he asked.

Chloe sighed. It was a heavy question, and she had a lot of care for heavy questions lately. It was about all she cared to think about, really. She thought about the many facets of John's question and stared deep into his eyes. He looked to be about her age. Old enough to feel old, and young enough to crave connection like never before. "I don't know," she admitted. "Definitely don't think about Maine when I think about my roots, though," she added with a haunted look in her eyes.

They were silent again for nearly an hour, both devouring a little too much whiskey in that time. Chloe looked again at John through the lens of buzzing blood and swimming emotions. "You look sad," she said. "You look gutted. But like you'd never let it show."

John picked up his glass, seeming to hold his liquor a little better than she did. "You look like..." he trailed off. "You look like someone I-" He closed his eyes for a minute and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"You remind me of somebody too," she said and let more alcohol burn a trail down her throat to join the rest of the temporary patches on the tear in her heart. "But not your hair or your eyes or your smile." She paused and blinked. "You know, I don't think you have smiled," she reflected. "You've got this weight. These people are scared of you."

"Well, good. Don't care for strangers."

"Me neither," Chloe said. "But something tells me we know each other."

John leaned a little closer to her, their eyes locked. "We don't," he contradicted. "But there ain't a damn thing wrong with that either."

()()()

"Hey," Dean said as Sam passed him coming out of the library. "I need to talk to you."

Sam frowned for a second as if he didn't like the way those words had been spoken. He looked over Dean's shoulder at Anna in the kitchen. She dropped her bag next to the counter and got to work making herself an iced coffee, just like always. There was nothing off about her. "Did something-?"

"It's not her," Dean assured. "Well-" he started to amend his statement. "Come on," he requested and jerked his head in the direction of the hallway. They walked through the library and then down the hall until they were in the garage with the door securely shut.

"Dude, what's going on?" Sam said, glancing furtively between the garage door and his brother.

"Man, you aren't gonna believe this. But just give me a minute to explain before you do your whole analyze-the-crap-out-of-everything thing, okay?" Sam looked a little offended, but he didn't say anything, so Dean kept talking, undeterred. "I got a phone call while I was waitin' for the kid to get outta school, and it was from someone we were never supposed to hear from again."

Sam frowned, tilting his head as if trying to think of who Dean could be referring to. "You want me to guess?"

"It was Chloe, Sam."

Sam didn't seem to understand. "Are you about to tell me you got somebody pre-"

"No. Chloe Taylor, Sam. Chloe like-"

"Anna's mother Chloe," Sam breathed, seeming almost detached in his shock. "How-?"

"I don't know."

"She was supposed to-"

"I know."

"Dean, this is-"

"I know."

()()()

"I don't normally do this," she told him the next morning. "I never do this."

"You think I'm about to get on your back about it?" John asked sardonically. "You realize I'm the other half of this equation, right?"

Chloe breathed out a sigh of frustration, "Right." She went back to lacing up her boots. "Listen, I have work, and, uh, it's my first day back, so I really shouldn't be late." She could see his interest had peaked at the words, first day back, but John didn't ask her for details. He just finished buttoning his shirt and ran a hand through his hair.

"I have to go too," John told her plainly, offering no more than that for explanation. He stepped past her. "But if you ever need help with something," he said, his eyes and his voice filled with unreadable layers. "Anything- Give me a call." He dropped his number on the night stand as he headed for the door.

Chloe watched the door close behind him and deflated the second it was shut. She let her frustrated misery overtake her face and surged forward. She brushed the phone number off the nightstand and into the trash without a second glance. She snatched her jacket off the bed post to drape it over one arm and her bag off the table, slinging it over a shoulder. She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

She couldn't say why, but she stooped down and plucked the slip of paper out of the otherwise empty trash bin. She had no intention of using it, but she needed to know that, for one night, she hadn't been alone. She'd had arms around her, whiskey brown eyes to stare into, an understanding soul to wrap her own heart around, and a real human being who knew pain like she did and who, she believed, had found solace in her the way she found it in him.

So, she tucked the phone number into her jacket pocket, and ran her thumb over the shallow grooves where each digit had been scrawled.

()()()

"I'm about seventy-five percent sure they're hiding something from me," Anna said and closed her locker as she slung her backpack over her shoulder. "I mean, it's not like they give me the run-down after every hunt they do. But they haven't even been on a hunt in almost two weeks now. That's weird enough, but the fact that they're both so quiet and secretive too? It's not lookin' good, you know?"

Kate shrugged and stuffed her hands into her sweatshirt pockets. "My parents keep secrets from me all the time. Hell, I never know what my Dad's doing anymore."

Anna sighed as they started to walk down the hallway. "Sam and Dean are different. They're not my parents. Our relationship is different."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just saying, just because they're not telling you something, doesn't mean there's something wrong."

"But it might," Anna insisted. She fell silent then, thinking once more that she should try asking them directly what was up. Then again, she was only about seventy-five percent sure. "You goin' to the dance tonight?"

"Never really decided. I don't wanna go if you're not, though."

"Just 'cause I'm chronically boring, doesn't mean you should be too," she smirked.

Kate shook her head, "Well, it's not fair that you get to sit around and watch Netflix while I'm forced to endure social interaction. I demand an in on your Netflix party."

"I'm having a Netflix party?"

"What else would you do on a Friday night?"

"Good point. We should finish that monopoly game first, though. It's been sitting on my floor for three weeks. I stepped on the money bag this morning and I think my foot has a permanent dent in it."

With a laugh, Kate turned and started to walk backwards down the hallway where her first period class was located. "Surprised you didn't bring crutches."

"I'm a fucking warrior," Anna grinned, then caught a teacher she recognized from Freshman year staring disapprovingly at her. She turned her casual grin into a polite smile and waved. "Good morning, Ms Bailey."

"Anna." She received a look of warning alongside the simple greeting, and Anna let her face fall into annoyance once she'd turned away. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time as she moved toward her first class of the day.

It was just another day, but she felt good, and she let herself think optimistically about whatever she felt her brothers were keeping from her. Couldn't be anything terrible. Couldn't be anything they weren't capable of fixing with a flask of holy water, a shotgun loaded with salt rounds, or a mouthful of words from a dead language. So, she didn't worry. She just high-fived Ethan as she passed him in the hallway and settled into another in public high school. It was anything but glorious, but she knew her place here. She had friends here, and she could laugh. That was better than her family had ever really had.

()()()

She stared at the pages of words she'd written down in advance and listened to the sound of John's phone ringing. Carefully crafted explanations that would be precise and gentle. Responses to the questions she anticipated him asking.

"Who's this?"

Her voice cracked, her heart pounding wildly in her chest as she whispered, "John?"

"Who is this?"

"It's... god, I don't know if you even remember me. My name is Chloe. We..."

There was a long pause. "I remember you." There was an unmistakable hint of dread in his voice, as if he knew nothing good could come of this call.

But she wasn't here to ask for anything, and Chloe felt angry with that insinuation. "I'm calling because we need to talk. If you're in the area, you could come by. Or we can talk like this."

"Camden, Maine?" John asked.

"Camden, Maine," Chloe confirmed. "I work mornings, I volunteer in the afternoons, and I usually have lunch plans, but if you could meet me around nine pm, we could go to the bar or I can give you my address." She waited, wondering what his move would be.

"How urgent is this?" John asked.

Chloe closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm going to tell you," she requested. "Let's just do this like the adults that we are. My apartment or the bar?"

"Not havin' a private conversation at that damn bar."

"Probably for the best," Chloe agreed. She bit her lip and straightened in her chair. "I'm 3B in Sunset Apartments on Spring Street. Nine pm or a little later."

It was quiet for a moment. "Should be able to get there by tomorrow night."

"It's a date, then."

"Funny choice of words."

It was, but Chloe didn't smile. "Knock," she said. "The doorbell's been broken for months."

()()()

"How much Monster can you drink in one night and not have a coronary?"

"Was that a research question, or just a question?"

Kate didn't spend the energy to answer, but flopped back onto the carpeted floor of the study room they'd taken to. It was just off the hallway, halfway between the bedrooms and the library. "Why did we start a second game of monopoly?" she groaned.

"Dude, you're the one who suggested it. You didn't want to watch Netflix."

"It was eleven and I was hopped up on Monster and pie."

Anna smirked and pulled a white can of Monster out of the box beside her. "Still got some."

"Yeah, not all of us are interested in vibrating from head to toe at three am."

"Bitter much?" Anna challenged.

Kate groaned, rolling sideways on the carpet and scrubbing the palms of her hands into her eyes. She carefully arranged her feet so that they wouldn't knock any of the game pieces or card stacks over. "Who invented Monopoly?"

Anna shrugged, disinterested. "Who cares?" Her eyes felt heavy with exhaustion, but her insides were jittery. "Come on, Kate, two hours and the sun'll come up. What's the point in sleeping now?"

"That's such-" Kate groaned, beginning to sit up. "-an unhealthy-" She straightened her spine. "-mentality."

"Which is my specialty," Anna smirked. "Wanna quit the game and watch vines? I won't step on it here."

"Was that coherent on your end? Because it made no sense to me."

Anna laughed and used a nearby chair to lever herself up off the floor and stand. "I mean I won't step on any game pieces if we leave it here. Sam might, but I won't."

"Oh." Kate grabbed the hand Anna offered and stood up. "Well, that sounds good. But no vines. I can already quote them all. I don't want them to get unfunny."

"Like vines can get unfunny."

"They can."

Anna shrugged and blinked to open her tired eyes a little wider. "Wanna make pancakes?"

Kate looked at Anna through her fingers, hands covering her face. "It's three in the morning."

"We could do muffins...?"

"You know what? Sure. Let's make pancakes. Can we play music, or will we wake somebody up?"

Anna shook her head as they stepped out of the study room. She pointed toward the hallway with all the bedrooms. "If they're even sleeping, they're on that end, and we'll be on that end," she added, pointing in the opposite direction. They headed for the kitchen. They both paused in the doorway, staring at the neat kitchen and thinking through the steps of making pancakes. "This seems like a lot of work suddenly, huh?"

To her surprise, Kate gave her a playful shove. "You dragged me out here. We're makin' pancakes."

"You ever cook this late at night?" Anna asked as they situated two mixing bowls of different sizes on the counter.

Kate got a sweet, nostalgic smile on her face. She used the hairtie on her wrist to start sorting her thick brown hair into a messy bun on top of her head. "My mom used to work late shifts at the hospital when I was little. When she came home, she would wake me up because she hadn't seen me since I left for school that morning. She liked baking, so we used to make cookie and bread and muffins and pie. Anything we wanted."

Anna smiled a little as she watched Kate's face light up at the memory. Family hadn't always been so difficult for her friend as it was with her parents often fighting these days. It made her heart ache and swell at the same time, all for Kate. "That's really sweet," she said, then her smile slipped sideways. Her heart split a little, this time for herself. She had no memories of a mother, of a real house and of baking cupcakes at midnight.

"You pretty much always stayed up this late, huh?" Kate asked distractedly as she scrolled through a google search of pancake recipes on her phone.

"Yeah, I guess," Anna answered sullenly. "But, I mean, we were in motel rooms, and usually late nights were for researching hunts. I did make hot chocolate at night a lot back when I used to stay with my uncle. He'd sit up with me sometimes and we'd wait for the boys to get back from a hunt." But she still sounded sullen, because those memories were melancholy too, now.

"I didn't know you had an uncle," Kate said, looking up in innocent surprise. "What was his name? Is he nearby?"

Anna swallowed hard, feeling her face pale a little. She looked intently at her hands on the counter. "He wasn't technically my uncle. A family friend. His name was Bobby." She paused, and when she looked sideways at Kate, she could see that she was putting the pieces together. "He died," she added, trying to make it sound simple, like something in the past.

"Anna, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even asked."

"It's cool," she assured quickly. "It was a couple years ago now."

Kate gave her an understanding and patient smile which Anna returned despite the ache in her stomach. Time didn't change a damn thing, she thought sometimes. Sure, it got easier after those first few months. But Bobby still hurt. Her Dad still hurt. Her Mom still hurt, and she'd died when Anna was a baby. The hurt got different but it didn't get better. She didn't say that, though.

"First ingredient?" she asked instead.

"Uh, flour goes first."

()()()

"I decided early on that I didn't want an abortion," she said. "Or you'd never have gotten a phone call."

John didn't speak, just nodded his understanding, not passing judgement on her words one way or another. Chloe appreciated the distance that he seemed willing to leave between the two of them. She didn't like the idea of having this conversation with consideration to any sort of relationship, an us among all this I.

"I almost didn't call anyway," she admitted, picking up her cup of hot chocolate from the table as if to take a sip. She just held the mug, though, her hands wrapped around it, sucking heat into her hands. "It's been seven months. I really didn't believe you'd pick up, let alone agree to come see me."

"Lot of men wouldn't," John admitted in a manner that seemed almost apologetic. "Chloe, I knew what this was about the minute I saw your name on the caller ID, if I'm being honest. But when you opened the door and I saw you and... and-" He paused and stared down at his coffee cup for a moment before looking her in the eyes. He seemed content to take his time in this conversation, and Chloe was glad for his patience and authenticity. "I don't leave family behind."

"That's noble," Chloe said spitefully, but it wasn't out of spite for John that she spoke so bitterly. She swallowed and took a careful sip of hot chocolate to hide the sheen of angry tears in her eyes as she remembered a man not-so-like John. "Before we get down to it, I, um- I have a question for you."

"Shoot," John encouraged gruffly.

Chloe set her cup down on the table and shoved the sleeves of her flannel shirt up to her elbows. "Who did I remind  you of?"

It was clear by the darkness that entered his eyes instantaneously that she'd stumbled into something painful. Chloe latched onto his pain, drawing strength from it. He was as human as she was. More importantly, he was better at hiding his pain than she was. He'd been living with it longer, maybe.

"Someone important, then," she assumed. He didn't answer one way or another, but the look in his eyes was confirmation enough for her. "What was it about me?" she asked, trying to think what it was about him.

"Your hair. When we were still practically kids, hers used to be lighter like yours and- and curly. And she had green eyes."

"You don't look like anybody to me," Chloe admitted. "But you looked sad that night. I remember it better than I should, I think. Did you know that your eyes tell hundred-chapter stories?"

"Chloe. We aren't here to talk about what we saw in each other while we were drunk, are we? We're here to talk about the baby."

"Right," Chloe said. She wrapped her hands around the mug again as they felt cold and clammy. "I never did any sort of gender reveal. It's all kinda old fashioned anyway, right?" she chuckled awkwardly and John remained stoic-faced. "I don't want to raise the baby, but I don't want an abortion either. I thought, that leaves two choices. Adoption, or you."

"So, you're not asking for help or support. You're asking if I want to raise our child?"

"And I don't expect you to jump at the opportunity or even to answer me right now. But I can't raise them, the way my mind is these days."

"What does that mean?"

"I mean... that night, when we were talking about people we've lost... John, I was raised in an... unpleasant household. I struggled... a lot... as a young adult. More recently, I lost a number of family members in a bad accident, and... there are about ninety reasons that raising this child terrifies me. But not because I don't want to lose something to it. Because I don't want to mess this kid up the way I... I was messed up. I don't know what good parenting looks like, if you don't count sitcoms. And I can't be a Danny Tanner."

"Nobody's a Danny Tanner," John said softly, eyes soft with understanding and sympathy. He rubbed his hands together in front of him to warm them, then picked up the mug of coffee Chloe had given him.

"I know that," Chloe admitted. "But I'm... I'm forty years old, John. And I don't think that makes me too old to become a mother, but I do think it means I should have my shit together by now. And I don't. I'm starting to think I'm never going to have my shit together."

"I know the feeling."

Chloe looked into John's eyes, and for a moment, she felt herself transported back to that January night in the bar on Belmont. But her blood was devoid of that pleasant, alcoholic buzz. Her heart just thumped dully in her chest, a subtle reminder that she was still alive. She still felt connected to him, but she knew why now, whereas that night she'd only let the connection swallow her. She could see that shutter in his eyes, the one closing off the world from a tragedy that was all his own. She saw it, and she understood it, and she'd processed that look subconsciously when she met him. She'd seen somebody like her. She wondered how long ago he got that look in his eyes, the one that made his eyes captivating not for their shade of bourbon brown, but for their glint of secretive mourning.

John suddenly shifted, breaking eye contact and bringing his coffee mug to his lips. "As long as we're doing this, I should tell you a couple things too," he said seriously. He adopted a very guarded look, as if he didn't give away information... ever, and he knew he had to do so with caution. "I'm already a father," he said. "I've got two boys. Both teenagers. And, look, I don't claim to be winnin' any father of the year awards, but I do know they're what keeps me going. And I do know that family is the most important thing in the world to me and to them. So, I'm gonna talk to my kids about this and I'll talk to you again soon. If that's alright," he added courteously at the end. He'd sounded almost commanding in his assertiveness before, and Chloe was almost startled into her answering nod. "Tomorrow night?" John asked.

"Yeah," Chloe said. "Sounds fine."

John gave her a tight-lipped smile, drained the coffee from his cup, and stood up. He shrugged into his jacket and turned toward the door.

"John." He turned back. "If you do decide to raise it- them-" she shook her head in frustration with herself. "I- I still want to know them. I just can't be responsible." She didn't feel content in her articulation. In fact, she felt that she'd wildly under-explained herself. I can't be responsible. It had to be the most hyperbolic under-statement she'd made in all her life. And there she was, thinking in paradoxes again. A hyperbole and an understatement. She placed a hand over her stomach as she heard the front door click shut with John's exit. "I'm sorry," she told the unknown inside of her, speaking like she was talking to an adult with whom she felt the need to make serious amends. Her eyes watered even as her expression seemed to harden. "You never asked for this. But, you know, you're gonna have to trust me on this one thing, because I would've rather had no mother at all than a mother like mine."

()()()

"She called again?" Sam asked carefully in the quiet of the kitchen.

Dean nodded, looking dead-tired as he sipped on a cup of coffee. "Girls still sleeping?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't have asked otherwise."

Dean nodded again, this time in acknowledgement as he set his coffee cup down with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of the other. "She called last night around nine." Sam got a slightly offended look on his face, but Dean cut him off before he could speak. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want Anna or Kate overhearing," he explained in the same quiet, sleep-rough morning voice. "She's still insisting she wants to see her."

Sam sighed. "I still don't get it. I mean, fifteen years is a long time to be away from someone before suddenly deciding you care." He couldn't hide his protective anger, and Dean didn't begrudge him that. He bobbed his eyebrows in understanding and took another sip of strong black coffee. "She saying why yet?"

"Still the same thing. How she feels ready now and she didn't before."

"It's thin. She's gotta know it won't be enough."

"She keeps telling me that she's the kid's mother like it's gonna win her some kind of brownie points. Little does she know, it does the opposite. Not only did she bail, but Dad did a lot to make sure Anna never knew. Letting her back in doesn't just mean chancing a difficult relationship for the kid."

"It means pulling the rug out from under her."

()()()

The dust settled quickly once the immediate shocked reactions were over. Not knowing what to expect, John hadn't expected anything. He'd called the boys and told Dean to drive them up to Maine, giving them a motel room number and no other information. He trusted that they would get there, and they did the following night around seven. He gave them time to shower and eat, but he didn't waste any time on formalities. He cut to the chase and told them the briefest possible version of what had gone on between himself and Chloe, both in January and yesterday.

As he watched both their faces, he felt like he was bracing for an explosion. He'd thought he wasn't expecting anything, yet when he received shock and confusion but not outrage, John felt tension leak from his shoulders. There'd been a number of questions that he was able to answer and a handful that he wasn't. They'd been quiet for the rest of the night, but not uncomfortably so. It seemed more like everybody was mulling the situation over.

Once Sam had gone to bed, John tossed his older son a beer and they sat outside on the step of the motel room. "I know that came as a surprise," he started quietly, looking vaguely up at the sky.

Dean snorted, "You are the one always sayin' to wrap it before you tap it."

John chuckled in spite of himself. They were quiet again for a little while then. The air was sticky and warm around them, mosquitos biting and buzzing through the August night. The stars twinkled above their heads, promising this world wasn't the only one. "What do you think?" he asked bluntly. "We got room for one more?"

"Always, Dad."

"This is deeper than that kid being family, Dean. She's got two possible lives. Foster care and us."

"Yeah, and we may not be perfect, but we're better than the system. You already said Chloe's stepping out of this. We're the next best thing to normal, Dad. We're the next safest thing."

"Your brother would say the opposite," John pointed out, taking a long drink from his beer bottle. He almost wanted something stronger. But he had too much to think about now.

"Well, Sammy thinks different than we do."

John nodded slowly as he thought about that. Sam hadn't been forced to play the leader or the protector in the same way as his family. Yes, Sam knew that his family would do anything for him. But he knew that as a fact that just lingered in the back of his mind. He couldn't possibly comprehend the depth of that yet, at fifteen. He hadn't been put in a place where he had to reciprocate that all-in guardianship yet. Dean was different. John had watched him prove how far he would go for family time and time again.

"Dad, maybe this isn't about us. I keep thinkin' about how that kid's gonna grow up if they end up in some orphanage or foster home. Family is the most important thing in the world. It's the only thing anybody can count on. If we don't help that kid, they won't have anybody to count on." John held his son's eyes for a moment, feeling proud at Dean's mentality and his articulation. "Besides," Dean added with a charming grin. "One more Winchester can only be a good thing."

It felt like something had been decided as they sat there and finished off their beers in the mostly silent August evening.

"Your mother always talked about having more kids." Dean looked over at him with bright, sad eyes, listening closely and with empathy. But John didn't say anything else for a minute. Finally, he tapped the side of his beer bottle with the fingers of his left hand and said, "Was one of the few things we could always agree on."

()()()

Shiny red hair splayed down the demon's back as she stood up, making Maya quiver in nervous excitement. She'd never had anything this big to offer before. She'd always been so low-down, so second-thought, so garden-variety, just waiting for her chance to stand up and do this.

"You," Abaddon crooned, stepping around Maya and touching a hand to her pale blonde curls. She sighed, "I don't think I know your name." Maya opened her mouth, prepared to offer the name Chloe had chosen. "Ah-ah," Abaddon stopped her, waving one finger. She smiled and cocked one eyebrow, "I don't care," she said deliberately. "Tell me why you're here. And if you waste my time," she added in a deadly quiet whisper. "You won't live to tell the story."

"I wouldn't think of it," Maya offered, her voice making her excitement obvious. When Abaddon merely looked at her as if waiting for her to offer something, she straightened. "It's the Winchesters. I have a line to them. I can get them for you."

Abaddon tilted her head, clearly interested. She studied Maya's eyes, the way a muscle in her cheek kept twitching in excitement. "How?" she asked slowly.

Maya smiled. "My vessel. She's the girl's mother. Long-lost. I'm already in contact with them. They're going to let me see her. When they do, I can take the girl, we can use her as leverage to get the others here."

Abaddon narrowed her eyes, and for a moment, Maya believed she'd said something wrong. Perhaps she'd given away too much of her plan and Abaddon would send another, better-known demon in her place to do the job. She swallowed under the scrutiny. "How long ago did you first contact them?" Abaddon asked, speaking quickly now but without any real sense of urgency. Her confidence and surety was what made Maya believe she was worth betraying Crowley.

"Nearly three weeks. It's been slow, but I expected that. It's why I didn't bring it to you until now. As you say, I didn't want to waste your time." She could see that Abaddon wasn't impressed by this, but she didn't receive any reprimands either, which she took as a good sign.

"Move faster," Abaddon did say. She began to step away, heels clicking on the cold cement beneath their feet. "I want the girl by the end of the week, or I'll send somebody else, somebody who can get me what I want in a reasonable amount of time."

Maya's heart began to pound at the new constraints. "Yes, ma'am," she said anyway, already trying to formulate preliminary plans in her head. She turned to go and get started, but she heard Abaddon clear her throat, and she turned back.

"What's your name?"

Maya grinned widely at the honor of this question. "Under Crowley's rule, I was Lucia," she answered. "But I go by Maya now, my Queen." Maya, after the alias of her one big mission- No. Her first big mission. The first of many. Not to mention, it was quite a milestone to be taking down the Winchesters.

Abaddon gave a slow and devilish smile. "Don't let me down, Maya," she said, and her eyes flicked black and empty as she stared.

()()()

His phone rang in the calm silence of the kitchen, and Dean didn't even have to look to know who it was. His stomach curled with a familiar sense of dread. He hated these calls. "Where's Anna?" he asked his brother.

"Catching up on all the homework she, once again, saved for Sunday night." There was fondness in his voice, but he looked tense. He was tense. "Didn't she just call this morning?" Sam asked and closed his laptop as if preparing to listen in.

Dean bobbed his eyebrows in a communication of I know, man. "Chloe," he answered the call. He pressed a button and said, "Sam's here and you're on speaker."

"Good," came a familiar voice through the phone. "I'm tired of waiting, Dean. I want to see her."

"We understand that. But you said you'd be patient."

"How much more patient can I be?" Chloe demanded in audible frustration. "It's been three weeks and some change since the first call I made. And every time since then you've circled around me. It's not such a tall order to let me know my daughter, is it?"

"I'd say it's a lot more complicated than you're allowing right now," Sam cut in.

"Maybe so, but you've had plenty of time to think about it. If you really thought my intentions weren't good, wouldn't you have turned me away for good by now?"

It was quiet as her question hung in the air. The truth was that Dean had a bad feeling about this whole thing. Something just wasn't sitting right. It didn't make sense either, because Chloe had been reasonable from the start. She'd explained that things had certainly blown over enough by now, that she didn't feel she'd be putting anybody in danger by coming back into the picture. She merely wanted to see Anna. She'd even offered, at first, to meet her as if she was just a family friend before any news was broken. She just wanted to see the kid. It had all been very convincing.

But something wasn't right. Dean could feel it in his bones. It was a small feeling, just an itch, but it nagged at him. It made him keep saying, 'Let's wait and see,' every time Chloe said 'please.'

"Somebody give me something," Chloe practically begged through the phone.

"Chloe, it's not an easy choice to make," Sam said apologetically. Funny, Dean thought, how Sam could be angry at Chloe one day and feel sorry for her the next. But that was Sam. "We just need a little more time.

"You've been saying that for weeks. And, you know, three weeks isn't such a long time, I guess, but fifteen years? Fifteen years is a long time. And that's how long I've really been waiting. I never wanted to put her in danger. I waited all that time just to keep her safe and you still think I'm some kind of threat?" There was a pause, almost like she was hesitating, unsure if she should say what she was about to say. "If she doesn't want to see me, that's one thing," she said tentatively, tripping over the words in a way that made Dean frown, that stirred that itch in his bones. "But I'm done asking your permission. I think I've been generous waiting this long, and if you won't talk to her then I will. I'll find a way."

A flash of anger blurred Dean's world for a second. Where the hell did she get off threatening them with their own little sister? The kid they'd raised and loved and protected through her entire life when she decided that was too hard a job in a world full of monsters? Anna wasn't her territory. Anna was fifteen and innocent and naive and she had no right to condemn him or Sam for not wanting to swipe that from her for the one who'd said, 'No, thank you,' to being a part of their family, to being Anna's mother.

He opened his mouth to begin telling her any of those things, but Sam shot him a look that stopped him and even stopped the tingling of the Mark on his arm, fueled by his anger.

"Chloe, give us a minute."

"I-"

"Not another day. A minute. We need to talk."

"Okay." The word was small, but it was enough.

Sam took the phone from Dean's hand and put the call on hold. They stepped away from the kitchen table, though they needn't have since she couldn't hear them anyway.

"Dean, it might be time to give some serious consideration to this."

"Well, it ain't like we've been sittin' on our hands for three weeks, man-"

"No, that's exactly what we've been doing," Sam argued. "Look, I hate this as much as you do. But she said she'd find a way, and considering that she found your phone number after all these years, I'm sure she's already got Anna's lined up, just waiting to call her the second we try to tell her no."

"So, we stop her?"

"How?" Sam demanded, always the voice of reason. "What, are you gonna take Anna's phone away? Punish her for this? I don't think so. Look, we've held onto this for a long time. Maybe it's time to tell her the truth. Ignoring Chloe, I- I think she deserves to know."

Dean locked his jaw and his thoughts warred inside his head. He hated that his brother had a point. "Maybe she does," he said after a minute. "But I'm not ready, Sammy. We both know she's gonna go right off the rails when she finds out. And even if we do agree to let Chloe meet her, we'd have to play it safe. For all we know, she's dead and something's usin' her to get at us. Anna's not gonna have the patience for all those precautions. You know that."

"Dean, we've talked to her how many times? What kind of shifter, revenant, or demon has that kind of patience? Chloe's not a threat. Not in that sense. I know you're scared. Hell, I'm terrified. But we can't take this from Anna. I mean, if I'd had a shot at meeting Mom when I was fifteen..." he got this distant look in his eyes, as if it was something he'd thought about before. "I'm sure she'll be pissed, but she'll get over it eventually, and she'll be glad we told her the truth."

"Yeah, after how long?" Dean debated, unwilling to let the point go. "Sam, there's something weird goin' on here. I can feel it. The second we tell her, she's gonna be all over cutting to the chase. How the hell do we keep her safe if she's pissed at us on top of that?"

"We'll figure it out," Sam said. "But we can't just keep lying. It's not fair to Chloe or Anna."

There was nothing left to say, so Dean stayed silent for a moment. Finally, he looked at Sam, and made sure to command authority with his eyes and voice as he spoke. "If we're doin' this, we keep it under control. We don't tell her where Chloe is, we just tell her she's alive and wants to see her. We give her time to calm down and think about what she wants, and then we proceed with caution. Anything else, and I'm pullin' the damn plug. End of story."

"Agreed," Sam said with a solemn nod.

They held eye contact for a moment longer before returning to the table where Sam hit the talk button. "Chloe?"

"Yes?"

"We're gonna talk to her," Dean said tersely. "Tomorrow night."

"When she knows what she wants, we'll let you know."

Chloe sounded relieved when she said, "Great. I'm- I'm in Lawrence, Kansas," she said. "John had a soft spot for this place, and I- I thought it would be the right place for us to meet, so that's where I'll be."

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Dean said coldly and hung up the phone.

"Dean-"

"We should probably figure out how the hell we're gonna break this to her, huh? Not that it matters. Since it's gonna break her heart regardless." He felt only marginally guilty when he watched Sam flinch.

Sam stood after a moment. "We have time to figure this out," he said, obviously trying very hard to think logically rather than letting his empathy take hold. "Let's just... let's not spend time dreading it. Let's figure it out."

It was quiet for a moment as they stood on opposite ends of the kitchen, both with their arms crossed over their chests as they struggled with the knowledge of what they had to do. Soon thereafter, though, soft footsteps could be heard moving toward them. Both boys turned as Anna stopped in the doorway. She had one earbud in, the other dangling in front of her. In her left hand was a notebook, a hand-drawn graph visible on the page it was opened to. In her right hands was her phone which declared on its lock screen that she was listening to Remembering Sunday by All Time Low. She was wearing mismatched ankle socks, ripped jeans, and an oversized t-shirt, and she just looked so... unbothered, at home... secure. As she should be.

Unaware of how much her presence made Dean's heart ache, Anna looked at Sam and said with a hopeful smile, "Care to accept a promotion to Math Tutor?" She dropped her notebook on the table and sat on her feet on a chair, leaning forward over her math homework. "I swear, the notes stop making sense as soon as you step out of the classroom. It's ridiculous." She glanced up when she realized Sam hadn't moved over to sit with her at the table. "What's wrong?" she asked, and Dean knew she saw Sam's heart bleeding in his eyes.

"Nothing," Sam said, and smiled convincingly.

Everything, Dean thought, and forced himself to walk casually from the room.

()()()

It was October 15 when the call came in. They'd just finished a hunt for a shapeshifter that they'd only taken because it was just a half hour outside of Camden. They'd gotten dinner and were planning to head back to Chloe's place the following morning since the baby was due any day now.

Chloe's name on the caller ID had John's heart racing. If she was in labor, he'd have to break the speed limit and get to Camden in fifteen minutes instead of the twenty-five they had left to go. "Chloe?"

"Johnny Winchester," came a crooning male voice through the phone. "Did you know that you killed my sister today?" And just like that, John knew he was fucked.

"You're a shapeshifter," he said through grit teeth. The boys both perked up, exchanging a look before both settling their gazes on John. He had nothing to give them right now, though, so he focused on the road ahead, pressing his foot a little harder on the gas pedal.

"Bingo, baby. Now, listen, your honey is being awfully cooperative. I guess because she's got a bun in the oven and all."

"What do you want?"

"Johnny, you know this game better than that, don't you? What do you think I want? Revenge. But you, of course, have no siblings, and there are better ways to hurt you. I'd be happy just killing you. But maybe I should one up you, slit this beautiful woman's throat, let your baby die with her."

"How do you even know-"

"Please, John. You aren't the only one with connections. It wasn't hard to find out everything about you. And since your kid is with you, I thought... well, both your kids ain't with you, huh?"

He tried to keep his demeanour calm if for nothing else than to keep his sons calm. He had to be in control. "So we play by your rules," he offered calmly. "What do you want?"

"You, John. I want to slit your throat and make your kid and your lovely watch. But not until I've made you hurt. So why don't you come meet us."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," he said tersely.

"Yes, you will be." The line clicked dead, and John realized he hadn't heard Chloe's voice the whole time. He should have asked for proof that she was alright. But he didn't let his mind stray any further. He looked in the rearview mirror at Sam's intense eyes, then glanced right at Dean. Then he looked at the road again. "We have an advantage," he said. "This guy thinks I only have one kid. He didn't see you, Sammy. Which means you're our shot at saving Chloe and the baby." It was a lot of pressure, but he wanted Sam to know there was no margin for error here.

Sam seemed to take that in for a moment. Then he straightened his spine. "What do I have to do?"

()()()

It was almost funny, actually, in that ironic sort of way. When everything started, Anna had been sitting in her room, flipping through her father's journal. Her eyes grazed over each page as she flipped, trying to find one specific entry. Anna's mother died today, her brain barely registered as her gaze flitted over one particularly painful page on her way to one that would make her smile.

Sam knocked on her door, and she knew it was him because his knocks were distinctly different from Dean's. He poked his head in and then swung the door open when he saw that she was looking at him expectantly. "Hey, uh..." With just those two words, Anna's stomach did a dizzying cartwheel. He was speaking a little too fast and she could hear his nerves in his voice. It was rare that Sam got nervous enough that he couldn't hide it even when he tried. He cleared his throat in that patented Sam Winchester way, and then he finished his sentence. "We need to talk to you."

Immediately, her eyebrows pulled together, her eyes brightening with sharp curiosity even as they dimmed with worry. "Okay," she said, unable to hide how nervous she already felt. She swallowed and set the journal aside, not closing it yet. "Did I- Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Sam answered immediately. He tried to smile but it just didn't work, and he rubbed his hands together, another sure sign that he was apprehensive. "No, no. Just, uh- We just need to talk to you," he assured, nodding more to himself than to his sister.

Anna looked at him, feeling utterly lost and still concerned. She looked down at the journal on the bed, wishing to put whatever terrible thing she was about to hear about off until later. The only way either of her brothers ever got this way was when they had information that would hurt. She let her fingers brush gently over the page with her favorite journal entry, thought of the comfortable nostalgia she'd been sitting in before Sam knocked. "It can't wait?" she asked hopefully, her voice small.

"No," Sam answered without hesitation. "Not really." His tone was enough to get Anna moving, just as it had been enough to turn her stomach a moment before. He didn't sound stern, but his voice seemed to shake and the idea of either of her brothers being that unsettled was unthinkable.

She closed the journal, kissed her fingers, and tapped them against the cover, sending up a silent I love you to the father she barely remembered. "Okay, so, what's up?" she asked as she followed him to the library. Sam was moving fast, though, and he didn't take the time to answer her question. She barely managed to keep up with him, having to jog to reach the library just behind him. She frowned more deeply, heart racing faster in her chest at his lack of response. Something was very wrong here.

One hundred possible headlines for bad news roared in her mind. Something had to have happened to Kate, and her mother had called so that Anna could hear the news from her family. Or something had happened to a fellow hunter. Somebody was dead. Claire, Alex, Jody, Garth, Cas. God, not Cas. Or, even worse, one of them was somehow hurt or ill and she couldn't see it. She thought of the worst possible case. Some sort of deal had been made, and one of them was dead inside a year? One of them had been diagnosed with some fatal illness? Worse, they were both doomed-

She cut off her own dangerous train of thought as they made it through the doorway into the library. There Dean stood on the other side of one of the tables, hands near his face as he paced in a short line, back and forth. His steps were swift and deliberate, but it was clear to her that he was inside of his head. She very nearly shivered at the sudden terror sweeping through her. Dean only got restless like this when he felt he was outmatched by something, like he didn't know what he should be doing but he felt that he needed to do something.

If Dean was dreading this conversation, and Sam was terrified for this conversation... Anna didn't want to think about how unpleasant this would be for her.

()()()

"John. Glad you could make it," smiled the shifter before him. He had tousled brown hair and wide-set eyes in a round face, but he looked at least as old as John, in his early or mid forties. Still, this shifter could be anywhere from ten to a hundred years old wearing a body that wasn't his own. "Funny enough, we were just talking about you. All good things," he promised and grinned sickly at John before shifting his gaze sideways to Dean. "Isn't this cute? Father and son, serial killers incorporated."

John looked to Chloe and realized with a start how confused she must be. She was looking at John in terror, and it wasn't just because of the shifter. She had no idea about the things that went bump in the night. John had seen no reason to tell her. He'd figured that the less she knew, the safer she was. But that hadn't paid off.

Now, she seemed to really be wondering whether John was some kind of killer. After all, being tied down and threatened by a man claiming John had killed his sister definitely did not paint the father of her child in a very positive light. He hoped she would understand once he explained. But a shifter of all things... they looked human, and unless this thing changed forms in front of her, Chloe had no reason to believe John. But she'd had no reason to speak to him, get to know him, and eventually spend a night with him back in January either. So he chose to believe in her rare ability to embrace the terrifying unknown. He could explain as soon as this bastard was down.

"There's no reason for her to be involved in this," he told the shifter calmly but with authority. "Let her go."

The shifter raised both eyebrows and just stared at John for a moment. Then he burst into laughter. "My God," he chuckled. "Did you think that would work?"

John hadn't thought it would work, at least not in the sense that the shifter was asking about. But for their plan, it had worked just fine. John could already see Sam stepping soundlessly into position in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. Sam slowly raised his gun, being careful not to make a sound. The shifter caught John and Dean looking in that direction, though, and he began to turn.

"Now, Sam!"

Sam wasted no time in pulling the trigger. Unfortunately, the shifter responded just as quickly to John's shouted order. Taking it for a warning, he ducked. Sam's aim would have been true, but as the shifter dropped to a crouch, the bullet merely grazed the side of his head on the way down, taking off his ear and making a grotesque sizzling sound as the silver burned his head.

A shout of pain and animalistic rage was pulled from the creature, and it lunged at Sam. He pulled the trigger once more, but he was in more of a panicked state with the shifter coming at him. In an effort not to chance hitting anybody else in the room, he aimed low and only got the shapeshifter in its leg. It stumbled, knocked the gun from his hand, and practically leapt over him. Dean rushed to his brother and helped him off the ground where he'd fallen in the scuffle. John stepped around them and tried for the shifter, but it was gone by the time he'd turned the corner. Chloe screamed through her gag at the sounds of a fight she couldn't see taking place behind her.

"It got away?" Dean asked softly from behind him.

"Yeah, it's gone. We'll go after it later. Can't be too hard to track now. It's hurt and angry. It'll slip up."

Dean nodded solemnly, and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Okay, Sammy?"

"I'm fine," Sam said simply, and he was visibly reprimanding himself silently in his eyes, John noticed. He couldn't place the blame on Sam for this one, though. His shout had been like a warning to that thing. It was John's own fault it had gotten away, and he would take care of putting it down. Sam had done well in his position. "Chloe?" he called then, stepping around his older brother and father.

Both John and Dean turned, recognizing the concern in his voice. When they looked, Chloe had her head down and was keening. They all rushed over, and John cut away her bindings while Dean untied the gag from her face so that she could speak. Sam was speaking to her, telling her it was okay.

"What is it?" John asked, voice harsh with fear.

"It's the baby," Chloe said, looking up at him from her seat with terrified eyes.

()()()

She didn't even try to hide the growing fear on her face. She let it show, plain and abject. "You guys realize you look like someone died, right?" she said, her voice less steady than she'd hoped. "Did somebody die?"

"No!" Sam answered quickly, as if that made any of this better. Well, it sort of did. But Anna couldn't think of anything worse. Even on each of the various occasions that they'd sat her down to explain that the friggin world was ending, they'd never looked this desperately lost or freaked. "No. We have to tell you something, though," he said, making an audible effort to sound calmer. He put a guiding hand on her shoulder and led her to a chair at the table Dean was standing near. "And it's..."

"It's likely to piss you off," Dean finished for him, dropping his hands to his sides and taking a deep breath.

Anna almost laughed out loud, would have if she hadn't been feeling so uneasy. They were afraid of pissing her off? She was barely 5'5" and while she was dangerous when truly enraged, she also didn't get angry without some serious provocation. She was a Libra, after all. Then again, they knew her well. So, whatever they had to say... it would piss her off. She tried to think of what that could be, but came up short. Her mind felt too frantic to even sort through the possibilities.

"Okay," she prompted impatiently. She tossed her hands out in a gesture that clearly said I'm waiting. The boys exchanged a look, and Anna could have screamed in her manic frustration. "What?" she asked, bewildered by their uncharacteristic and downright concerning behavior.

She watched as they both seemed to tense a little further. "It's..." Sam started, then stuttered to a stop. "It's a-"

"It's about your mother, Anna," Dean interpreted.

Anna's heart stopped in her chest. She couldn't breathe. Every automatic process ceased as her body waited for her mind to learn how she could keep living with this new piece of information. My mother is dead, she thought in that objective way she'd learned to say the words over the years. Her body was still trying to figure out how to come out of its entranced state when she heard herself ask detachedly, "What are you talking about?"

"Chloe's-" Sam cut himself off. "Your mother- she's-" Sam's words had never failed him so badly, but Anna couldn't even think that far. All she could do was wait for the real answer, the one that she somehow already knew would shatter her still heart.

"Anna, your mother is alive," Dean said in a hushed and regretful voice.

"She has been," Sam said apologetically. "This whole time."

"What?" came the dumb reply from her comatose body and mind. It sounded colder than her clammy hands and frozen heart.

For a second, the stillness lasted, and Anna thought she might not fragment. Then her heart roared back to life with deafening force and her blood turned to fire in her veins. Her face went slack as, behind her eyes, her mind spit steam trying to comprehend what she'd just been told.

On the face of it, Chloe Taylor being alive was a very simple, straightforward fact. But if you turned the flashcard over, there were one million pieces of Anna's life, her family history, her understanding of who she was that had to shatter to prove that fact true.

Soon, she could only think of one thing. She'd found her mind, her breath followed, then her voice.

"You lied to me," she said as if the fact were inconceivable. It was. The room seemed to fracture, a fine line forming between Anna and her brothers. It was silent, the air dense with secrets. Inside of her, a crucial understanding shattered, making a real mess. "What the fuck?!"

"Okay, you're angry," Dean said. "We get that-"

"Don't patronize me!" Anna demanded. "You lied to me! My whole life!"

To their credit-- though Anna was giving them none-- neither boys looked particularly happy with themselves. "For the record," Sam started, stepping slightly forward and looking closer to tears than Anna had seen him in a long time. "It was-"

"Don't tell her that!" Dean cut his brother off with venom.

"Really?!" Anna spat. "You want to keep more secrets? That'll help!"

"Hang on a second," Dean told her, voice low. "That's not fair."

Anna rolled her eyes and turned away from both of them, trying to get her mind working so she could think just one coherent thought. There was a logical next step here. There was a right way to talk about this. There was a right question for her to ask. She just had to think through it for a second.

"Anna-"

She shied away from the hand that touched her shoulder. She tangled one hand in her hair and tried to think, think, think. But all she could think about was that her mother was alive. She wasn't an orphan. She had a mother, a real, living mother. She was somebody's daughter after all. She began to feel light headed, and she reached out two hands to grab onto a nearby chair and stop herself from falling to the floor. She saw both boys react in her peripheral vision. They moved toward her as if planning to help her, but Anna glared icily at them, and they stopped in their tracks. They had torn expressions on their faces, but she didn't have enough mental energy left to care.

()()()

She was exhausted beyond words. But she stared down at the baby in her arms, and her heart swelled with love. Two little pink fists were held close to the newborn's chest. She was a baby girl and Chloe had known it all along, though she'd never asked for the information. Her eyes were already a light shade of green, and it had surprised Chloe when she first saw. She'd thought all babies were born with blue eyes, but the nurses told her that wasn't so, just a myth, and Chloe took pride in knowing that her baby girl had her eyes, pale as they were now. The baby's hair was dark, and there wasn't much of it on her head, but she knew that could change with time. She wanted to soak in exactly what her baby looked like, and it broke her heart to know that, by the time the baby turned one year old, Chloe wouldn't be able to pick her out of a crowd. She tried to tell herself that they would see each other more often than that, but she knew better. Especially considering what she now had to do.

In light of the previous night's happenings, Chloe was living in a new bubble of fear. She was trying to play it off, but she didn't buy a word of John's story. He'd spun an utterly insane tale about monsters and ghosts, saying that the man who'd tied her up and threatened her life and the baby's yesterday had been something called a shapeshifter. She didn't understand how she hadn't seen it in him before, but John wasn't the man she'd thought him to be. He was as messed up as she was. But he was too selfish to do what she was about to do and give up his children so that they could live better lives.

It had been Sam who shot that man yesterday and Sam who the man had tackled, because John had killed somebody close to him. She'd tried hard to give John the benefit of the doubt. She'd thought maybe he worked for the government, some kind of FBI or CIA agent. Perhaps he'd taken down one in a family of criminals. But then he'd tried to tell her that monsters were real. He believed in the boogeyman, and Chloe couldn't help but scream inside her head, Why do I always attract the lunatics? The ones who insist they mean well even after I know the truth?

But she also felt a sense of calm. She'd been here before. Well, not exactly here. She'd never met a man who believed in ghosts and shapeshifters before. But she'd met plenty of selfish men. And a selfish woman, her own mother. And every time she found herself in that everyday chokehold of loving somebody who didn't know how to love, she'd believed the I mean wells. She'd said okay, and given fifty chances to their zero. She'd cried and bled and screamed and begged and forgiven time and time again. All those drops of blood and tears had pooled in her memory and she'd labeled them Failure, because that's what they were. But no more. No more, because this time it wasn't about her.

Chloe knew exactly how to let herself down. But she did not know how to let down people she loved; that was the trap, after all. Her mother laid it first. Then Allen Wood when she was sixteen. Martin Presque when she was twenty two. And she barely escaped it alive when Linus Quinn caught her with it and kept her there for ten years.

Chloe knew how to let herself down, let herself lose, let herself die in every way but the physical sense. She did not know how to let those she loved suffer that fate. So choosing to ask John for a night alone to get some rest felt good. Wrapping her daughter warmly in blankets and a cozy hat and packing a bag full of supplies felt right. Limping out of the hospital in stolen slippers and scrubs, clutching her baby to her chest felt like growth. She just had to go home and get a few things, and they would go far away, and Chloe would find her little girl a suitable home in a state or a country where John would never think to look.

But when she stepped up to the front door of her own apartment, she immediately saw that it had been broken, the door not fitting against the jamb quite right. Chloe knew a disaster area when she saw one. She'd lived inside of hundreds of them, each just slightly different from the others. She was stepping into one. Or maybe she'd done that when she sat down next to John Winchester on January twelfth and told him her name. She should have learned by now that when she felt drawn to that look in somebody's eyes, it was because that look was insanity. Not loss; it was never loss.

She would never know real love. Even the child in her arms, she would have to give away. Or maybe she'd already messed this up, too, because the door was yanked open and Chloe, weak and aching, not even a day postpartum, stumbled in an unyielding grip of the likes she'd felt one million times.

In her arms, her baby girl cried from the throat, and Chloe's heart tore. Funny, she'd thought it was already in pieces too small to hold.

"Oh, Angel," purred the man from yesterday, and Chloe flinched as he raised a hand toward her face. But he merely tucked her hair almost lovingly behind her ear. "You are a helpful one."

Chloe felt her insides begin to quiver. Whatever he was going to do, she couldn't let him hurt the baby. She held her daughter marginally tighter against her chest as the baby continued to cry, every sob sounding a little like she was choking. Chloe had done some reading. She knew that was how newborns sounded. But it still made her chest constrict as she stared into the blue eyes of the man before her. She felt responsibility clinging to her shoulders in a way it never had before, and it was far more terrifying than the moment of recognizing her fate when she would see her mother cocking her head to the side, absent in the eyes, and pointing at her in accusation. That had been her fate. This was her daughter's too. Chloe's life had been lived. She was forty. There was no turning back. This girl was brand new. Barely twelve hours old.

"I know," she said, voice quivering. "I know that you have beef with John, but believe me I barely know him. We met at a bar, I got pregnant. It's- I didn't realize he was a killer. I didn't realize he was insane. Please, please."

"Oh, this is rich," the man laughed cynically. "Oh, Baby. Oh-oh-oh Baby, you think he's insane. You think he's insane. But you're the one that just walked right back to me." He touched her arm, and Chloe flinched again, but he held on. And then he wasn't him. He was her. He was Chloe. He had her green eyes, her curly hair of an almost bleached shade of blonde, her thin purple scars and her darker, wider pink or white scars. He had her life story written on her body, but he wasn't her, and there, in her own house in Camden, Maine, Chloe Taylor felt her temporary feelings of calm drop through the floor. One more failure. It would have been easy to swallow if it had only been her. Well, not easy... but familiar and more bearable in that sense. But this was worse. She'd chosen for a new life, a clean slate, an infant, and it had been a trap again. She should have accepted her own inability to recognize them. She should have known. But she didn't.

Her heart, it seemed, had been sewn back together only for the stitches to be ripped apart, as if Dr Love had never taken his Hippocratic oath. She knew he hadn't.

A slow, malicious smile spread across Chloe's face, but it wasn't Chloe's smile, just her body. And this creature, a shapeshifter, flashed Chloe's eyes to silver. And there she saw herself, the only version of herself that made sense because it wasn't her. The silver-eyed honest one reached for the baby, and Chloe stepped back away from it, clutching her daughter closer. She thought she'd finally done it and let a loved one down, but a popping sound surprised her.

On the ground lay her double, the one who knew what she was. And there was a neat bullet hole between her eyes. Chloe looked up to see John Winchester holding a handgun with a suppressor on it. Not to damage the baby's hearing or attract unwanted attention. Smart, she thought. And she realized he was the father their baby needed. He could do what was right, make the choices needed to protect a child, and cause minimal harm along the way. She loosened her grip on the baby just slightly, and let Dean take her when he offered. Sam helped her over to sit down on the couch.

Chloe just stared at her body on the ground, unmoving. Good, she thought. Now nobody can expect anything from me.

()()()

"Okay, okay. What-" Anna broke off, still trying to process even one part of this. The gears in her head were turning less frantically now, allowing her to come up with real words born of something besides anger. "No. Wait. Why now? Why are you telling me this all of a sudden?" As she finished her question, she felt her resolve harden a little. That was the right question, she decided. Maybe she was capable of having this conversation.

"Okay, look, if we start explaining this to you, you're gonna have to promise that you can keep your head on straight about it, alright? You have every right to be upset right now, but no flying off the handle on this one. There's something weird going on, and we don't know what it is yet."

Anna frowned. His words should have fueled her anger. He was asking her to relinquish more control over her life and let them call the shots on this one. But this one was the most personal case since the demon that killed their father. She'd been too young to get reckless then. But she was just the right age for it now, and even in her haze of anger, she could see that he was trying to protect her. She didn't like it, especially considering that his means of protecting her had apparently included lying for her entire life. But she wanted to know what was going on with her mother, and to get that information, she had to make this promise.

"Sure," she said. "Fine. I promise."

They didn't believe her, neither of them. Anna didn't blame them. They shouldn't have believed her.

Still, Dean seemed to understand that pushing his luck with her right now would only make things worse, make her more likely to fly off the handle. So, he adopted a look of calm and said simply, "She called."

She'd been cautiously hoping that was it, but Anna still couldn't smile at the information, nor could she frown. There were still about a hundred directions this could go. She didn't want to be let down again. She was stronger than the average kid, but two massive disappointments in the span of ten minutes would still split her in two.

"Wait, when?" she asked suddenly, unintentionally cutting Dean off before he could add anything. "When did she call?"

Sam looked sympathetic as he answered for Dean, "A few weeks ago."

Weeks. They'd spent weeks talking things over. Maybe later that thought would be comforting, but now it was only gasoline on the roaring flames of her anger. What if in waiting so long, they'd waited too long. What if her mother ran out of patience and didn't want to see her anymore? Had she called only the one time, or multiple? Then it hit her.

"You weren't gonna tell me," she realized.

"No, we weren't," Dean said, stepping forward. He sounded much less apologetic than either of them had for the past few minutes. "We weren't gonna tell you. We knew you wouldn't react well, Anna, and besides that, we weren't sure we wanted to do her any favors."

"Do her any favors? What about me? I have a-" She didn't know how to say it, so she didn't finish.

"Yeah, we figured you'd feel that way. Listen, kiddo, what Dad wrote in his journal, most of it is true."

"Chloe called him when she was seven months pregnant. They talked. He was there when you were born."

"Except she didn't die the next day," Anna said, trying not to sound so damn vulnerable. But as she spoke, the logical next sentence invaded her mind. She left. If her mother hadn't died, but she hadn't been a part of Anna's life then... she must have gone away. It was another difficult pill to swallow but she tried to be as mature about it as possible. People are complicated, she tried to tell herself. She probably had a really good reason.

"No. But a shifter did, one that looked exactly like her. She was proclaimed dead and we let her stay that way. She chose to go because she knew you'd be safer with us and she couldn't live this life."

She chose to go. Anna tried to think of something to say to that, but she was coming up short. There were too many gaps in the story. How the hell did a shifter get involved with her mother? Why did they decide that Chloe's daughter should believe the story the authorities cooked up instead of knowing that she'd gone away to keep her safe? Why did her father write down that one crushing lie in the same ink as he wrote down every fact he learned as a hunter, every fact he witnessed in his children? How much more of it was built on lies? Was she even his daughter? No, she had to be. But, then, if Chloe determined she should go, did that mean John hadn't had a choice in taking Anna in, that she'd been forced on him?

She thought back to Adam. She could have been the long lost sister they'd never met, the one whose family was inevitably murdered for being close to John Winchester and the one who was manipulated into going to Hell. The one who stayed there because he wasn't really a Winchester.

It all made her head spin, and she didn't have any idea how to make it stop until it suddenly just did. She thought about what they were trying to tell her. They'd lied. They were owning that. Chloe was alive. Chloe wanted to meet her. That was the important thing. Anna had an opportunity to meet her mother, something she'd always thought entirely impossible. She had to try for it.

"Anna, say something," Dean requested, stepping forward again. But he was still hesitant. Neither of them wanted to get too close if it was just going to upset her more.

She tried to speak, but it was impossible. Her shoulders dropped and she pressed her palms to her forehead. Her hands were cold and clammy, vibrating in her overwhelmed state. She let her hands fall a little lower and rubbed her eyes, fingers still shaking badly. Say something, she reminded herself.

"Kiddo-" A hand moved toward her as if Dean felt brave and was going to try and comfort her.

"Don't," she whispered, straightening and clenching her hands into fists. "Where is she?"

"I'm not gonna tell you that," Dean replied without missing a beat. His voice was gentle, but Anna didn't care.

"Why not?" she demanded, disbelieving. She'd thought for sure that they wouldn't deny her the chance to meet her mother. If they'd had no intention of letting them meet then they would have just kept lying.

"Because you'll run off and find her and you'll get into trouble."

Anna's nose wrinkled and her eyebrows pulled together in anger. She leaned just slightly forward, unable to believe what she was hearing. She yelled, "What the hell are you talking about? She's my mother; she's not a threat!"

"We don't know that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you leave something else out of the story? You want to tell me I'm half demon now?"

"No!" Dean barked over her before she could continue on her tirade. "We're just trying to be-"

"Well, then there's nothing left to talk about," Anna interrupted. She'd locked her jaw and her eyes shot daggers at Dean, then Sam as he stepped up next to Dean. "Where is she?" she demanded.

"We're not telling you where, Anna."

She very nearly exploded at the calm declaration. Blood was roaring in her ears and she felt miles from the kid in ripped jeans and mismatched socks.

"Chloe said she would never be in contact," Sam said reasonably. But Anna had no patience for his rationality now. She stared at him, feeling ragged, insane, out of place and unable to care about any of it. "She knew what she was doing when she left. The authorities labeled her dead and that was the story she went with because she wanted you safe."

"Exactly," Dean added. "The fact she called has to mean there's something weird going on."

"Or she just changed," Anna tried, but the way her voice cracked made it clear that the words were a plea, not an argument.

"Kiddo, I know you want to believe that," Dean said as if in shambles as he looked into her eyes, full of desperate hope and heartbreak. "But we have to play it safe." Bravely, he put a hand on her shoulder, and Anna didn't say anything about it. She didn't tense, but she didn't relax. She just stood there, eyes welling with tears despite that she felt numb.

She let Dean pull her in and hug her. Mechanically, she even hugged him back. And she buried her face in his shoulder just because it was a little safer than the rest of the world. Because even though he'd lied, at least he couldn't hurt her anymore. At least he wouldn't. And at least he was sure of himself when Anna wasn't sure of anything. Just for that, she thought she should give him the benefit of the doubt.

But she couldn't.

She stood there and hid behind her human shield, and she made a plan to let him down.

Swipe his phone, find her number, call, track, do something. You can find her. You can have a mother. Isn't that what you've always wanted?

When she was three years old, Anna fell face first off the slide at a playground in a nameless town. The little girl she was playing with tried to help her up, but Anna just sat there and stared at her bleeding palms and skinned knees. I'll get your mommy for you, the little girl had offered. And Anna started to cry, not because of the fall from the slide, but because she'd just started the fall that would never end.

When she was five years old, John told Dean to put her in school, and he did. And Anna found out that adults weren't the only ones that could be really, really mean. Did you hatch from a egg? one of the kids in class asked her one day. And another piped, No, my Daddy says that babies come from Mommies. They don't come from eggs. The first little girl had said, I know but she doesn't have a mommy. She'd looked at Anna again. Where'd you come from anyway? And Anna had realized there was something wrong with her, because she didn't know where she'd come from.

When she was seven years old, Anna watched John's body go up in flames. She watched until the flames were as dead as her father and, she'd believed, her mother. She'd gone silent in the wake of that funeral pyre, until several weeks later, after her eighth birthday. She was sitting in Bobby's living room when it occurred to her. If she didn't have parents, then she was nobody's kid, and if she was nobody's kid then she wasn't a kid. So she brought her stuffed frog, her best friend from ages two to eight, into the back yard, and she found a Zippo lighter in a drawer in Bobby's kitchen. Halloween's fire was dead too by the time Bobby walked outside and grabbed her by the arm, demanding to know what she was doing with a lighter. Anna had spoken for the first time since John's death then. And it was just to say, I killed him.

When she was ten years old, Anna ran away for the first time. She brought half the clothes from her duffel, a toothbrush, and a few bottles of water. It took about twenty hours for Sam and Dean to find her, and when they did, they wanted answers. I was gonna come back, Anna had told them. I just wanted to see my mom. She hadn't understood back then the look her brothers exchanged, but now she would. You wanted to do what? they'd asked. I know she's dead, Anna had said. I just wanted to see her. So they took her to Chloe's grave, except she hadn't known it wasn't Chloe's grave. She'd looked at the headstone and they'd given her space. And she'd thought, Taylor. I never knew that was her last name.

When she was thirteen, they found the bunker and she started high school. She'd kicked and screamed over that one, not having attended public school since she was six years old and Dean pulled her out. She was just fine finishing online school, thanks very much. But they didn't budge, and she went. She was pleasantly surprised when she found out that Kate Foster, who she'd met and become instant friends with when they were working a werewolf case about six months prior, was moving to the area. They'd started to hang out every day, and they'd gotten close. And Anna had gone to her first sleepover at fourteen. She could vividly remember the feeling of utter shellshock she'd experienced when she met Kate's mother. They'd talked about their families before, but Anna had never met Kate's parents. And when Kate introduced them, and Anna was greeted with a warm smile and an offer of something to eat or drink, she just shook her head numbly. She felt the same sense of dumb loss wash over her later that night when Kate's father got home and the two of them sat down at the dinner table and the place felt whole. She'd been enchanted by the whole scene. But she'd had a father once. She'd just never had a mother. She didn't cry until she was home, though, and she didn't do it where she could be heard. This was private grief because it was years late and because her mother wasn't their mother even if both Mary and Chloe were dead.

At fifteen, Anna curled her fingers into the back of Dean's flannel shirt and hoped he would forgive her for going after what she wanted, because she was going to do it. She was going to find her mother and know what it was like to have one. She was going to know Chloe Taylor as more than a name on a gravestone or an echo in her best friend's mother. Her mother wasn't going to be tears in the shower. She was going to be a face and a beating heart and a real life story.

Anna clenched her eyes tightly shut when she felt Dean kiss the top of her head. She tried not to feel guilty, a lost cause she knew well. But all she wanted was an answer. The question? Where did you come from, anyway?

()()()

Chloe woke in her own bed, and somehow felt drastically out of place. She eased herself to standing and limped to the doorway leading from her bedroom to her small living room. "John?" she called.

She was greeted by the youngest, though, as he cradled the baby, swaddled in a soft purple blanket. "Dad's outside talking to Dean. I've never held a baby before," he admitted to her when she didn't answer immediately. "But Dean showed me how. Makes me nervous, though."

Chloe smiled softly at him. She liked both of John's boys. They were polite, respectful, but they had personality too. And the bond between the two of them was something else entirely. "You know, to be completely honest, I feel nervous when I hold her too."

Sam looked at her with that calculating gaze she'd seen him use a time or two. He didn't seem terribly surprised, which surprised her. Maybe she wasn't so great at hiding everything that was wrong with her despite her years of practice. "I think it's good that we're nervous," he said after a few seconds. He looked down at the baby, and Chloe watched a smile pull at his lips. It was a sweet sight watching John's fifteen year old hold a newborn. "It just means that we care and we don't want to hurt her. I mean, Dean and Dad don't want to either, obviously. But they know what they're doing. I think it would be a lot worse if we didn't know what we were doing but we didn't get nervous."

"Yeah," Chloe said and hesitated before placing a gentle hand on Sam's head. He was about her height, 5'6", and she imagined his family teased him for it. But she was glad for it at the moment. If he'd been as tall as Dean, she wouldn't have reached out and touched him. But the contact felt natural, felt logical. Her hand didn't linger long before she pulled away and moved toward the door, leaving Sam with the baby.

"Not that way," Sam interrupted. "They're on the fire escape."

Chloe frowned for a minute, her brain struggling to keep up. Then she smiled slowly. "They're on the fire escape," she snickered. It seemed fitting for those two in a way she couldn't pinpoint.

She stepped up to the window in the small room just off the kitchen, thinking vaguely that this must be how the creature had gotten away yesterday, and it must have been how Sam got in. She resolved to lock her windows wherever she would end up.

As she watched them talk, she wondered about them and the history she would never get to hear. The shapeshifter's body was gone, and she knew they must have done that. It was terrifying to her that these three were experienced at body disposal. But she couldn't help but recognize that it was just an inglorious part of a very impressive man's life and work. That was the thing about John, she thought. He was just the right amount of dangerous and human to be a father. He could protect the baby. And then there was Dean, who gave her hope because he was rough and tough like John but so much softer inside. He put family before everything. Dean was John, but a little more human and a lot less dangerous. He loved fiercely, and Chloe could see that without even really knowing him. It gave her hope. And so did Sam, because he was the most human of the three of them, and he still carried a dim innocence that Chloe could never have passed on to her daughter. So, she watched them talk quietly outside and she felt a little more confident in her choice. Then Dean turned to look at his father and caught sight of her in his peripherals.

He leaned inside through the bottom of the window and climbed gracefully back into the apartment. "How you feelin'?" he asked instead of questioning her presence.

Chloe smiled a little. She hadn't given much thought to that. "Alright," she answered, and felt herself long for a place where this question was routine. "If I could talk to your dad for a minute..."

"Sure, yeah," Dean agreed and stepped around her. "Hey, and, for what it's worth, we all get why you ran. You wanted to protect her. I'd have done the same thing."

Chloe just smiled at him. She wondered how two teenagers could be so intelligent and empathetic and sure when she, at forty years old, was still so easily shaken and couldn't seem to stop being lost. "Thanks, Dean," was all she said, and he left her alone. She moved toward the window, dreading the pain of climbing outside with her body still recovering.

John climbed inside instead, not even waiting for her to ask for it. "Here, you should sit down," he said and helped her sit in an armchair she'd nearly forgotten existed.

Neither of them knew what to say, so it was silent for nearly a whole minute before Chloe finally spoke. "I'm sorry," she said softly in a tone of perfect apology that she'd practiced over and over since childhood.

"You thought I was a threat," John said, and there was a simple but weighted understanding there. "I know what it's like to want to protect your children."

Chloe stared at him for a moment, at his brown eyes whose layers she understood better now.  She didn't want to spend any more time thinking about John, though. She was leaving him behind because he wasn't the kind of person who could want her or even the kind that she could let herself want. Besides she already knew what the right thing was, and she knew it was right because it was the last thing she wanted. And everything she'd ever wanted had been wrong.

"John, I still don't want to raise this child. I can't raise this child," she said, going slow so that she could choose the right words. "Even if we'd gotten away, I- Well, what ifs aren't worth a damn thing anyway," she admitted and looked down at her hands, curled in her lap.

She could still feel the shame of her younger self who'd so believed in those alternative endings even as they were folded and torn, folded and torn, folded and torn until there was nothing left but the air and the destructive hands that had emptied it. She wanted to weep for that version of herself that still cried, All I want is to be really loved. It wasn't going to happen.

Who could so tightly cling to a fantasy, a recognizable fantasy, that they would let themself lose everything for it even as they were promised nothing but heartache? She knew herself, knew the voice crying All I want is... might as well have been crying, Let me down.

"I still want you to raise her. But I'm not going to know her. I'm not going to see her." John frowned, but not like he was upset by this, just like he was confused. And he gave her space, something she wasn't accustomed to but greatly appreciated. So, she continued, her words equally paced as she continued to choose each one distinctly. "I am not very good at learning from my mistakes. But, you know, it's only ever been me at stake. I'm not in a position to make choices for anybody else. But if I know her, I'm always going to want to protect her. And I clearly don't know how to do that."

"Chloe, you don't have to be anything to her. You can just drop in. Just see her. It'll mean something."

Chloe got the sense, again, that he was speaking from a place of real understanding. She didn't see how he could be, though. "No, John. I don't know how to do any of it. I can't protect her as long as she's living in your world. And if I even tried to raise her... we'd both be targets even on top of how messed up I am. I wasn't made to be a mother. I was born a lost cause," she admitted shakily. She looked toward the doorway and saw the shadow of somebody moving. She pictured the pale green of her daughter's eyes, the thin, dark hair on her head, and she felt her eyes well with tears. "But that baby girl in there, she's different. She's going to be everything that I couldn't be. And you're going to get her there. You're gonna protect that light inside of her and you're not gonna tell her who I am because I don't want her to be afraid of being like me."

"We are not our parents," John said. "My father left when I was a little kid, Chloe. And that's not something I'll ever do. Removing yourself altogether, that's worse than trying."

"You think so," Chloe choked. "But you don't know. There's worse. And I won't be that."

As if he was seeing her for the first time, John nodded, eyes filled with understanding. Chloe let him believe whatever conclusion he'd come to. "The shapeshifter, it looks like you. You should leave town, make a new start somewhere under a new name. I have a friend who can help you settle in. The authorities are gonna announce Chloe Taylor dead when they find that body. You won't be a target so long as you aren't you. But you can't be in contact with anyone who knows you."

"And changing my mind isn't an option." Chloe nodded with a thin, pained smile. "I thought it all through. I want her to have this. And I know better than to think it's for me."

John appraised her for a moment, but he didn't explain or ask anything more. "If this is what you want," he said instead.

Chloe smiled wanly. "It's not," she said. "Which is why I'm doing it. Write this friend's number down for me when you go. I have pamphlets on feeding and caring for the baby in the backpack I was wearing this morning when you got here. Everything the hospital gives out, it's in there. Take that with you, and... and..." She pinched the bridge of her nose and bit her lip, trying not to let herself cry. "And take a picture of me with you. Just in case she ever asks."

"Of course," John said solemnly. "Chloe, I- I'm going to tell her the same story the cops here will believe. Well, not exactly, but- She's going to think you're dead. And she's going to think fondly of you. I want you to know that."

Chloe didn't say anything. "It doesn't matter what you tell her," she said. "This is the only good thing I've ever done. She's better off regardless."

"Okay." He turned to go and Chloe's heart jumped to her throat.

"John." He turned back, and she said carefully, "I had a friend once named Grace. She was... probably the only real friend I've ever had. I messed that one up. But, you know, if you could make that her middle name, I could think of her as the thing I did right."

"Yeah," John agreed easily.

"Have you chosen a first name?" Chloe asked. "I just would like to know it."

"My wife, when she was alive, she... we used to talk about having more kids, having a daughter, and... she always liked the name Anna." He paused and looked away, out the window. The afternoon sun was bright, but he didn't shy from it. "Maybe this is a chance for both of us to make up for letting somebody down."

"To second chances," Chloe said sardonically.

"To second chances," John echoed with a faint but genuine smile. "I guess we'll head out in ten," he said. "But if you need something, ask."

Chloe nodded, and she watched him leave the room. She didn't move as long as she could still hear them moving. She didn't move when she heard the baby cry or when she heard her quiet again. She just stayed there until the door clicked shut and she no longer had the choice to hold her daughter again. Her choice had really been to take the choice out of her hands. And she'd done it.

As she slowly pulled her suitcase from the closet, Chloe realized how little inside of her felt dedicated to anything anymore. She'd given away so much in her life. And finally, it seemed, she'd done the one good thing she was destined to do. Which left... what?

She packed her things with unprecedented fervor. There was nothing for her where she was going, but there was even less for her here.

()()()

"You okay?" Dean asked again as they neared the turn for Lebanon High. "You didn't have to go to school today, you know? I mean, no one'll blame you if you'd rather stay home."

Anna glanced sideways at him with bloodshot, tired eyes. "I'm fine," she answered dully. She'd realized that with how quiet she'd been all morning, the boys seemed to think she was still mad at them. And she was, Anna thought, but that was a whisper in the back of her mind. This silence was an admission of guilty. The bags under her eyes were the fifty problems she hadn't known about until yesterday, and the way she practically ran from the car when Dean put the car in park was avoidance, but not of her brother.

She headed toward the entrance slowly, scuffing the heels of her shoes against the sidewalk and second-guessing herself. She stared at the brief text conversation she'd had with her mother, something that still felt unreal. But the texts had been all business. The thought of seeing Chloe in front of her was what had Anna's stomach doing flip flops. She remembered the looks she'd gotten from Sam when she didn't eat breakfast but downed three cups of coffee in the span of an hour. But he hadn't said anything because he didn't want to push his luck and he thought she was mad at him.

Not gonna be at school today, she texted Kate so her friend wouldn't text Sam or Dean about it. It was unlikely anyway, but Anna wanted to cover all her bases.

She went back to the text thread between herself and Chloe. Leaving now. Should take about four hours to get there.

And it did. She'd taken longer car rides, and some of them had been on the way to prevent the end of the world. But she'd never had such a hard time getting through a ride in her life. She sat in the backseat and blared Hold on Till May again and again and again, turning it up a little louder each time until the volume wouldn't go any higher and her ears felt ready to bleed. She played Hell Above and didn't turn it down. She told herself it was too late to turn around even when she felt scared enough to throw up and all she wanted was to run back home.

She'd turned her back on something. She'd done something wrong. She could feel it. But she wanted to believe she was right, not for her pride but for her mother. It was still selfish, and she wanted to care about that, but there was this hole in her heart that she felt sure her mom could fill. She felt like a little girl, the one she'd abandoned with Halloween's ashes.

She paid the cab driver cash and gave him a generous tip, silently grieving the loss of so much money from the savings she kept buried in her desk drawer. And she walked numbly down the streets of Lawrence, vague memories of the few times she'd been here as a child haunting her as she went. The diner Chloe had asked her to meet at was packed. It made Anna feel relieved, and she purposely didn't didn't think about how she'd argued to Dean just last night that there was no way her mother could pose a threat.

She stepped inside and looked around. It was one o'clock and the place smelled amazing, but she didn't care about that. She wanted to find her mother. She felt sure she would know her by sight, even having seen only one picture, an old one from when she was in her late twenties. She wouldn't have needed to see any picture at all to know her mother when she laid eyes on her for the first time, though. Her hair was just like Anna's. And their eyes, though hers were a bit paler than Anna's, matched as well. Already something about her made sense. She didn't look like Dean. She looked like her mother.

She had holy water in one pocket and a silver butterknife in the other, simple tests she knew her mother would pass. But as she sat at the table and met Chloe's eyes, her heart skipped a beat, and she didn't pour any holy water on her fingers before reaching across the table to offer her hand.

"Is it weirdly formal for us to shake hands?" she asked with a shaking voice and wide, vulnerable eyes. Anna saw pure joy fill Chloe's expression, and she felt overwhelmed by it for a second. Her reflex was to try for humor, and she did, but it was lame. "I didn't sit at the wrong table, right? I mean, talk about awkward-"

"No," Chloe answered quickly and grabbed her hand so tightly Anna would have been uncomfortable if this woman wasn't clearly her mother. "No. I just can't- I can't believe it. You're so beautiful."

Anna blushed a little and self-consciously tucked a handful of curls behind her ear only for more to fall into her face. "Thanks," she said carefully. "So, uh, how... how do we do this?"

"We can just talk. And I'll buy you lunch. You must be starving after your trip. Here." She handed Anna a menu and smiled in a way that Anna recognized as jittery. She chalked it up to nerves as she was dealing with the same thing. "Anything you want."

"Uh, just a boat of onion rings and an iced coffee is fine. Thank you-" She almost said mom. Thank you, Mom. But she didn't know how, and she just knew the tone would be wrong. Just like that, she felt out of place and irreparably different, just like she had in Kindergarten.

"That's not a meal," Chloe said almost like a reprimand, and Anna felt something in her heart warm up.

"Okay, I'll get a sandwich," she bargained, and it felt strange coming out of her mouth. "What about you?"

"Oh, I like grilled cheese. A lot of places don't make them right, but that feeling when you finally get the perfect one is like nothing else."

Anna laughed awkwardly. "Okay well, we can both get that, then."

"Already have something in common," Chloe pointed out with a warm smile. It wasn't like the smile Kate's mother had given her, but Anna reminded herself that as inexperienced as she was at being a daughter, so Chloe was inexperienced at being a mother. She flagged down a waiter and gave him their orders, and Anna just watched her. "Something on my face?" Chloe teased.

Anna laughed again and it was a little more genuine even if it was embarrassed. "Sorry," she said. "I just can't believe you're here." And she felt like she'd expected something more. Not in Chloe. Chloe was a human being and, maybe because she'd never had a mother, that was all Anna had expected. But she'd thought this would be more emotional. Her heart was still pounding a mile a minute in her chest, her mouth dry and brain bursting with questions. But her mother seemed calm. Pleased, but calm.

It took nearly an hour for their food to get to them because the restaurant was so busy, but conversation was pleasant if slightly awkward. They talked about basic things. The kinds of things family should know. Habits, good and bad. Favorite and least favorite foods. Music and books and hobbies. It was like getting to know somebody you knew you would be spending a lot of time with-- a roommate, a classmate, or a family friend you couldn't remember. Not like speaking to a parent. Anna felt a little cold as she realized how distant they were, and how difficult it was going to be to become closer. But now that she'd determined that Chloe was no threat, for sure, she could see her mother with her brothers' blessings which meant she could see her more often and more privately. They could talk about more serious things, hash out the things that hurt between them.

"Hey, I think our food is coming."

"Really? That was fast."

"Anna, it's been an hour," Chloe said with a smile. Anna reacted in shock and heard her mother say, "I know, time flies when you're in good company."

But she hadn't felt surprised at the amount of time that had passed. As their food was placed in front of them and the waiter left, she was reaching that same numbness she'd felt when she met Kate's mother. But it was multiplied. Chloe hadn't called her by name so simply and casually until now, even as they spent an hour talking and getting to know each other in the little but important ways. And it was suffocating how much Anna needed to hear it again. But she didn't ask for it.

Chloe looked at her for a minute, seeming to realize her demeanor had changed. "What?" she asked rather bluntly before seeming to rethink. "What's wrong?" came more gently.

Anna shook her head and tried for a smile, but she felt like crying and she couldn't keep it from showing on her face. The strangest smile came out of this, and she gave up altogether on appearing okay. She stared at her mother and saw how old she looked. She shouldn't have been surprised, she supposed. She was old enough to be Dean's mother because she was about as old as their father would have been had he lived this long. Anna did some quick calculations and put her mother at about 56 or 57 years old. It was a strange realization for her but she knew it shouldn't have been. Maybe this perspective was only born of the fact that she'd been raised by two people who were only fifteen and nineteen years older than she was for almost her whole life.

"What?" Chloe asked again, with more urgency this time.

"It's just- I've wanted this..." Anna broke off and shook her head again, trying to force all the feelings down where they couldn't be seen or even felt.

To her surprise, though, her mother stood up and moved to her side of the table. She had a small smile on her face and her eyes were sympathetic. She reached for Anna, and as awkward as it was to be hugged by a relative stranger, Anna wanted it, so she let Chloe pull her sideways and hug her. It didn't feel natural, or even warm, but it was an effort to be close, and Anna felt it was a promise that there would be better hugs in the future, ones that they both felt a little more. And you thought she was a threat, Dean, she thought smugly, or as smugly as she could while being as vulnerable as she was.

As they pulled apart, there was the sound of the table vibrating slightly as it was bumped, and Chloe's arm brushed against the side of Anna's glass, nearly knocking it over. "Sorry, love," she apologized simply and righted it carefully.

Anna just smiled at her to indicate that it was no big deal, and Chloe took her seat on the other side of the table again. Sorry, love, Anna repeated in her head. Nobody had ever called her that before. She wasn't sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, it felt strange. On the other, it was endearing, having somebody openly nickname you as somebody they loved. But Chloe didn't love her yet, right? She had to prove she was worth it first, because they didn't know each other yet. Or was love inherent for parents and children? Anna felt guilty as she realized that as much longing as she felt for a relationship with her mother, for the chance to love and be loved by her... she didn't believe there was a relationship yet, that there was love yet. Anyway, being called love didn't mean anything different than being called Rugrat. It was just less subtle. If anything, it had meant less to her being called love by her mother than being called anyone of the nicknames her brothers had for her. There was nothing behind it with Chloe.

"Anna."

"Sorry, I guess I spaced out for a second." She gave a half-smile and reached for her drink. "What's up?" She took a sip of rootbeer, frowning at the slightly off-taste of it. Likely the restaurant served a brand of soda she wasn't fond of. She would drink it anyway since Chloe had paid for it.

"No, don't be sorry. I just wanted to ask... you called me separately because Sam and Dean, they... they wouldn't let you see me?"

Anna shrugged one shoulder evasively and drank more of her soda simply as a means of avoidance. She had to concentrate not to cringe at the taste. Chloe shifted in her seat across from her, and Anna looked up. "Sorry, I just... I don't really want to talk about that."

"I would hate to be any sort of division," Chloe said.

"Mom, don't be-" Anna stopped and swallowed hard. She'd said it. She'd gone and said it after having been so careful not to address Chloe by any sort of name through the last hour and a little more. Chloe didn't seem to react, though. She seemed undeterred, in fact. "Don't be ridiculous," she continued, feeling a little bolder. "You're not dividing anybody. I chose to come here. And, like, worst comes to worst, they ground me for sneaking out."

"So they don't know you're here."

Anna looked deliberately at her glass, traced a bead of water on its outside with her right index finger. "If they knew I was here, they'd be with me." She picked up the glass and drank a little more. It was nearly half gone already, and she was glad for it. She seriously did not like this soda. She picked up an onion ring and pulled it apart in various places until she found the seam. Then she ate it. Chloe was still looking at her and she had a smile on her face that Anna thought out of place. "What?" she asked, careful to speak in the most respectful tone she could manage.

"Nothing. I'm just... I'm really glad you came. I'm sorry that it wasn't with their blessing. But I'm glad you gave me a chance."

"Yeah, about that, I'm sorry they stalled you for so long. They're kinda... overprotective. I don't know. Anyway, if I'd known sooner, I'd have come sooner. But I thought... I thought you were dead. They told me you were-"

"I know."

Anna frowned and rubbed vaguely at a dull ache in her temple. "They told you that?" she asked.

Chloe shook her head with a sad but accepting smile. "Your father decided on that story a long time ago."

Anna frowned further. She felt sick. Her father had been the one to start the biggest deception of her life? She should have known, but she'd missed it, perhaps because she always wanted to believe so highly of him. She felt faint all of a sudden, and she tried to take a deep breath to calm herself down. She couldn't comprehend why she would be reacting this way to such a small detail. Even when she'd learned the truth, she'd been able to keep herself from actually throwing up or passing out. Now, she felt close to both.

And then she realized. The strange smiles and lack of real emotion. The pleasure at having Anna there, but the seemingly feigned interest in her. The awkward hug and use of the word love. The casual but never truly comfortable conversation. The questions about whether her family knew where she was. The way Chloe's arm brushed her glass just minutes before she started to drink from it... and then became suddenly ill. She felt inwardly horrified but made herself smile at the woman-- or thing-- across the table from her. She had no idea what was going on, but it wasn't right. And if there was a rule that had been burned into her head, it was: If something feels wrong, it probably is. So bolt.

"I'm gonna- I'm gonna use the bathroom," she excused herself.

When she stood, her vision blurred. She moved as quickly and steadily as she could toward the back of the diner and the bathrooms, but she walked by those doors and straight out the back to a small parking lot with two dumpsters and an empty truck parked nearby. She resolved to get past it before she let herself drop. And her legs wobbled as she pulled her phone from her pocket. She had her thumb just over Dean's name, one of the first in her contact list, when her vision blurred dramatically, and she couldn't see clearly again until her knees were throbbing from a connection with concrete. She tried brace herself with her hands as she began to fall forward, unable to support herself even on her knees. Her phone screen audibly cracked as it hit the ground beneath her hand. Her head swished and pounded, and she thought I've never felt like this. The hand holding tightly to her phone was stepped on at the wrist, and Anna keened, doubling over so her head nearly hit her knees. Barely able to make out a thing anymore, she could see pale green eyes flicker into empty black, and her heart gave a dull thud of understanding.

The demon crouched before her and leaned into her face. "What's the matter, Baby Girl?" she crooned in a voice of mock affection. "Roofies didn't agree with you?"

()()()

Her waking was slow at first. Brain of slush, eyelids weighted, body limp. Then it was sudden. She jerked bodily, and the clink of metal on metal drew her scattered attention. Her wrists were handcuffed and the cuffs were situated around a heavy metal beam suspended parallel to the floor about a foot of the ground.

The metal was tight to her wrists so that Anna could feel them digging in, nearly cutting off circulation. She yanked once against them, but it was pointless and she knew it. The metal cut into her wrists and blood welled sluggishly, slickening the skin under the metal.

"It's about time," Chloe exaggerated. "Was starting to think you'd sleep right through the wait."

Anna squinted, vision still clearing, at the blonde-haired, green-eyed monster. "Mom?" she slurred, confused. She pulled one more time on the cuffs. Her brain felt as if it was melting, and she just couldn't put all of this together.

"Not hardly," the woman scoffed. She moved over toward where Anna was slumped on the floor. She crouched low and smiled devilishly. "But she is alive. Angry, too. Which is just hysterically funny, don't you think?"

Anna frowned. She was glad to know her mother was alive, terrifying as her situation still was. But she also didn't understand the demon's amusement. "Of course she's angry, jackass. You just kidnapped her daughter."

The demon grinned slowly, then she began to laugh. "Oh. Oh, you thought- No, Bright Eyes, she- She's not angry with me. We've got a neat little arrangement up here," she said and tapped her head twice with her index finger. "She's angry with you. You were supposed to stay gone, to leave her alone. Let her try to make something of the life you broke for her."

Anna reared back. The demon seemed to be waiting for her to speak, but she couldn't think of anything to say. Her eyes just filled with fearful understanding. Of course her mother wouldn't have wanted to meet her. She'd had to leave her whole life behind, probably changing her name and losing contact with everyone in her life in the process. And all of it because she had Anna.

"Finally getting it?"

Instead of answering, Anna locked her jaw and looked away. She felt so stupid.

"It really is laughable," came the relentless demon's taunt. "You take everything from her and then you expect some warm and cuddly reunion. You," she laughed some more, and Anna felt herself wither. "Well, you're either some kind of lunatic or you are one naive little girl."

Determined not to let this demon get to her, Anna focused on closing the door on the emotional side of her brain. She wanted so badly to play the part she always did when upset or scared. She wanted to play the care-free, sarcastic, and maybe-a-little-pissed-at-the-world teenager. But she couldn't shut her vulnerable side out. It was screaming too loudly.

"I can tell you all about Mommy Dearest, here," the demon offered malevolently, gesturing at the body she was possessing. "We have plenty of time. No telling when the boss will be in."

Anna's eyes flickered up in surprised fear.

"That's right, Babe. You're a present from me to my boss. And, boy, is she gonna be thrilled to see you all trussed up for her."

Anna wrinkled her nose in a clear show of disgust. "Who is she?"

"You want me to spoil the surprise?" When she got nothing but a dirty look in response, the demon smirked. "I'm pretty sure you've met. Let's see if you can guess. Red hair, sense of humor, real interesting set of scars on her neck from that time your brother cut her head off and sewed it on again."

"Abaddon," Anna whispered in horror. She couldn't believe what she'd stepped into. In her reckless teenage abandon, she'd unknowingly played into the hands of one of the biggest supervillains on the map these days. She forced the fear out of her eyes, but it still played its anthem with her heart as its instrument. Her blood roared in her ears and her hands shook, wrists scraping painfully against metal. "How did you...?"

"I'm good, right?" the demon asked smugly, fishing for compliments. Anna's expression didn't change. "Figures you wouldn't be impressed. Funny enough, I actually possessed Mommy completely by accident. Hysterical, right? I mean, what are the odds I work a simple deal job and end up with a Winchester's mother for my meatsuit?"

Anna began to feel just how small her little parent problems were in this scheme. She was a pawn. Chloe was a pawn. And soon, Abaddon would have everybody right where she wanted them, all because Anna couldn't make the right choice when it counted. Never before had she failed so badly. Never before had she let so many people down in one fell swoop. Sure, she let her family down all the time... in little ways. The curse word that slipped out in front of a family friend, the classes she occasionally ditched just because she didn't see why she shouldn't, and the arguments she sometimes created out of thin air because something about life hurt and she wanted to yell it out with somebody she knew wouldn't hurt her back. She let Sam and Dean down all the time. But she'd never thrown herself so directly into trouble, thereby forcing them to confront their current enemy long before they were prepared with adequate weapons and while battling a desperate and fearful state of mind because their sister's life was at stake.

"What do you think?" the demon asked. "Wanna hear Mommy's secrets?"

Anna chose a spot on the cool concrete floor to fix her gaze. She would be handing out no more ammo to their enemies.

"Well, fine. There are other ways to pass the time." But there was a pause, as if the demon didn't know what those ways were.

Then, a vibrating sound emanated from somewhere nearby, and Anna flinched at its suddenness. She couldn't understand what it was for a minute, but it came to her with force. Somebody was calling her phone. Probably Sam or Dean. And certainly not for the first time. Anna could tell that much because of how dark it was inside despite the many windows around the large and empty room they were in. Only a few wall lights gave them light to see by.

"Like that," the demon said with a grin and stood to pick up the phone. "Dean. No cute nicknames?"

Anna didn't answer, still determined not to fuel the fire. Really, though, she was exhausted, and she didn't have the energy or patience for an overeager, arrogant, and cruel demon to play any more mind games with her.

The phone's vibrations stopped after a few more rings, and then the demon picked it up. She hummed interestedly as she wandered back over toward Anna with the phone in hand. "Twenty-eight missed calls. Sixteen voice mails. Well, that sounds fun, right? Let's give them all a listen."

Anna clenched her eyes shut as the first message began to play in the otherwise quiet warehouse. Hey, you're pretty late. You get held after?

The demon before her laughed, and Anna didn't need to look to know she would have that same mocking grin on her face. "Wow, he had no idea, huh?" A beeping sound was followed by a second message.

Seriously, Anna? Ditching? Right now? Not your smartest move. Call us. Now.

"Never heard Sammy get strict," the demon commented. "Cute."

I don't know what the hell you're trying to prove, but you proved it. We're worried. Is that what you wanted to hear?

Anna felt her stomach clench in guilt and distress. "Stop," she requested in a whisper. "I don't want to hear-" She was cut off by a beeping sound and the next message followed.

Anna, pick up the damn phone. Nothing about this is funny, and if you're just playing games with us, then you can bet your ass you're gonna be in trouble over this one.

"What do you think?" the demon asked quirkily. "I'm intimidated. You?"

"Just stop," Anna requested again. But another beep sounded. And from that point on, they blurred together.

You don't have to give anything up, okay? Stay pissed. That's fine. Just tell us you're okay.

We're gonna find you, kid. And if this is just you, you'd better be scared. But if something's wrong then... then we're gonna find you.

Still time to call us up and say this was a very unfunny practical joke... Anna... give us something.

We know you tried to find her. What we don't know is why you aren't home yet. So, if there's something you were scared of, forget it and pick up your phone.

And they continued, getting increasingly desperate and easing slowly from pure anger to pure worry. Slowly, Anna was worn down by them. She could hear the ins and outs of the fear and love in each of their voices, and it ached not being able to pick up the phone and fix that.

"Don't like that feeling, huh? Well, you know what, kid? You did that to yourself."

Anna didn't look up. She stared at the ground and focused on not crying. She didn't face the demon because the demon was wearing her mother and twisting the knife of family into her heart.

"Don't look so pitiful. Nobody's giving you anything else. Certainly not any sympathy. You do know, don't you, that all you ever do is take? Mommy knows it. It's all she can think about when she sees your face."

Anna sucked her lips into her mouth and bit down. I will not cry. I will not cry.

"Selfish," the demon muttered. "And ungrateful. After everything she did for you, you wanted more. You wanted her to love you. And how could she after what your life did to her? And you're ungrateful for the family you already have. You really abandoned the people who actually care about you to chase after a fantasy that was never going to work out. Maybe ungrateful's the wrong word. Maybe you're just stupid."

Anna bit down harder and squeezed her eyes shut. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't you dare fucking cry.

"You had it all, Princess. And it's gone. You're never gonna see Dumb and Dumber again. They're gonna come in here looking for you, and Abaddon's gonna take their heads."

Anna fought her body's instinctive doubling over as her heart screamed Cry, cry, cry.

She was selfish. She did take her family for granted. And she knew because even now, chained and spitting blood, Anna knew her brothers would figure out a way to fix this and save her. And that understanding, as painful as it made her unintentional betrayal of them, allowed her to be more enthralled by the pain of everything about her mother. What she'd learned and what she hadn't. What she could never have and how she'd taken it away from herself just by existing. What Chloe was suffering all because of her... still.

In a moment of utter heartbreak, Anna heard herself begin to cry. Her eyes spilled over and stung and ached and she just cried, sniffling and trying to breathe.

There was no response at first aside from a brief bubble of laughter from the demon that had been tormenting her. But then there was a sigh. "Okay, I was trying to make you cry, but it's annoying. You can stop now." Spoken like a true non-human.

Anna cried on.

"Stop," the demon requested, still sounding annoyed. "Stop!" she demanded more loudly a moment later. "I'll punch you," she warned. "I'll shoot you. Stop!"

But Anna couldn't, and she knew, even in her haze of guilt and mourning, that she was too valuable to this demon for it to kill her. She was surprised by the fist that met hard with her jawline and snapped her head back to hit the pipe she was handcuffed to. She was more surprised when it landed three more times before the demon quit and stepped back. Hunched forward as much as her restraints would allow, and she continued to cry, but silently. Her chest hitched again and again, her face streaked with tears and now blood as well.

"Are you really not gonna stop? After that?" the demon asked angrily. "You little shit. You're pissing me off on purpose."

Anna wasn't, but she could hardly have spoken, so she took the next hit and was surprised when another didn't fall. When she turned her face up nervously to see what was happening, hiccuping embarrassingly as she still couldn't seem to keep from crying, Anna's blood turned to ice in her veins. A hand held tightly to her mother's wrist.

"Careful, Maya," Abaddon advised, directing a thin, sadistic smile at Anna. "Or we won't get our deposit back."

Tears fell from the tip of her nose as Anna let her head fall again. Her chin dipped to her chest as bloody saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth, and she thought, How the fuck did I do this?

()()()

Anna listened with dread to the beep, beep, beep of Abaddon preparing to call her brother. This was the moment of truth, the moment she would hear the big play from the boss's mouth. The moment she would have to hear her brothers find out just how idiotic she'd been, and just how badly things had gone because of her naivety. Because of her hopeful ignorance.

"Hey, Babe," Abaddon gleamed. "Missed me, didn't you?"

"Abaddon," Dean's voice growled through the phone. Anna was astonished at the amount of dangerous anger and crippling fear he'd managed to stuff into one word.

"You remembered. Listen, I'd love to talk, but I'm a busy girl, so I'm gonna get to the point."

"Where's Anna?" Again with the enraged terror.

"Down, boy," she said and looked at the teenager on the floor. Anna's blood and tear streaked face was downturned, but her bloodshot green eyes were fixed on Abaddon as the demon gave a wicked grin. "I'm takin' great care of her."

"Abaddon, I swear to God, if you hurt her-"

"God. Isn't that funny. Anyway, there's no need for threats. I have no beef with your pretty, pretty princess," Abaddon said and crouched in front of Anna. She reached out with one hand and cupped the side of her face, running a thumb along her jawline. "Only one I'm interested in is you. And, of course, your partner in crime."

"What exactly are you asking for?"

Abaddon chuckled, "Sam. I'm not asking for anything." Her voice hardened. "I'm just saying... I've got this green-eyed little girl in front of me and a brand new knife collection I'm just dying to try out. But if you'd like to come for a visit in the next two or three hours, I think she'll survive that long."

The line was quiet for a moment. "Prove she's okay. Then we deal."

Abaddon removed her hand from Anna's face and leaned forward, holding the phone back and away from her face. "Hear that? You're going to watch them die."

Anna's eyes welled and her chin wobbled as she yanked brutally on the handcuff keeping her in place. "Don't," she rasped, though she'd intended to sound stronger.

"Made that call already, didn't you? Say hello," Abaddon taunted and pressed the phone close to Anna's face. She smiled wickedly and whispered, "Or maybe goodbye would be more appropriate."

Anna didn't say hello or goodbye. She choked on her own mistakes and barely managed to tell her brothers, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," before the ability to speak left her completely. She barely caught the beginning of a warm, forgiving promise that everything would be okay before Abaddon had pulled the phone away from her and taken it off speaker phone.

Anna sniffled and tried to stop her tears. That was exactly what she'd been beaten for earlier. But as she tore her eyes from Abaddon, they landed on Maya. The demon possessing her mother. And it was all she could do to stay silent in her anguish, so she bit down hard on her lip and ground her wrists against the cuffs despite how raw they were already.

"Two hours," Abaddon repeated into the phone. "Or she dies. Simple enough?" She hung up without another word spoken, and she just looked so tickled over this whole thing.

But Anna's world had been reduced to wave after wave of misery. All the apologies, all the what ifs, all the please let me go backs... they were needless, hapless, detrimental even. She wanted so badly to believe she wasn't the stupid, stupid, stupid girl who'd wanted so badly to have a mother that she'd abandoned and subsequently doomed her real family.

But she was that girl. She always had been.

()()()

The sight of Sam and Dean Winchester standing side by side in the doorway of the warehouse was the most welcome sight Anna had faced in ages. But it was also the most terrifying. She jerked the second their silhouettes were in her line of sight, and her wrists bled as she continued to lean as far from the pipe as she could manage despite the painful cut of metal into her skin.

"I assume you two were smart enough to come unarmed," Abaddon drawled, stepping confidently out of the shadowy space beside Anna. Her body still blocked Anna from her brothers' sight, but she could see them, and it hurt physically knowing it was her fault they were here. "But if you decided to test your luck, you can drop everything right there."

"Where is she?" Dean called.

"Weapons," Abaddon repeated coolly.

Sam opened his jacket, and Dean did the same. "Got nothin' but a pocket knife. And that won't exactly do us any good against you," Sam explained. "We're clean. Now, where is she?"

"Come on in, boys. Join the party."

Anna let her gaze fall to the floor as they both stepped inside. She listened to their approach without reaction until Abaddon stepped out from in front of her.

"You said nobody hurt her."

"I said she was okay. She's okay.

Anna could feel her own heart bleeding out her eyes as she slowly lifted her gaze to Sam and then Dean.

"So now what?" Dean asked bluntly. "We're here. Let her go."

Abaddon laughed openly at his request. "I don't think so."

"The deal was-"

"Come here or she dies. I kept my end. She's alive. You kept your end. You're here. That deal is in the past now. So now we get down to business."

"Business?" Sam repeated.

"Business," Abaddon said. "Meet the devil on my shoulder. Maya."

Anna purposefully didn't look at the demon inside of her mother's body as Maya stepped out from behind a pillar to join their dimly lit gathering. Anna couldn't help the way her fists clenched and her body tensed, though. Where did you come from, anyway? Echoed the voice of a stranger inside her head. From a place of loss and resentment, Anna answered silently now.

"Sam. Dean. It's been a long time."

As one, the boys took a physical step back in surprise, a move that was followed by a disbelieving, "Chloe?"

Green eyes fluttered into black. "It's Maya. For now."

"You son of a bitch. That was you this whole-"

Dean's forward movement was halted easily as Abaddon held a hand up lazily. She didn't even say anything to him, just looked back to Maya.

"Down, boy," Maya smirked. "I played nice. Until she started crying. Talk about obnoxious."

Both Sam and Dean held themselves tensely, Abaddon's hold on Dean lessening as he stopped fighting to move.

"I don't understand what you're waiting for," Sam admitted. "Bringing her out like some big reveal and dangling Anna in front of us. If you were going to kill us, you'd have done it already. If you were gonna kill Anna you would have done it already. So what are you going to do?"

Abaddon raised one eyebrow, her smile devious but tiny. "I'm going to win a war," she said slyly, leaning toward them as if telling a secret.

"Who declared war?"

"Isn't that conceited? Not with you, Dean. Not with your brother. Not with your angel. Not with your sister. In fact, my war has nothing to do with you." Her eyes darkened, and she lost her usual charisma as her eyes darkened with anger and then flicked black as if it was a reflexive reaction to such anger. "And that's the problem. Because you have gotten in my way more times than I can count."

"So no more," Sam promised as if sensing something bad was coming and trying to ward it off.

Anna didn't blame him, she could feel the air around them growing thicker. Abaddon stepped up next to her and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her upward onto her knees, and Anna gasped at the pain. She was startled when Abaddon pulled out a knife, one covered in sigils. Anna grimaced. It was a demon-killing knife. Odd choice. She was less concerned with the type of blade when Abaddon put it at her throat. "Now, I need to get you off my back. And the way to do that is with a distraction."

Oh god, Anna thought in horror. I'm about to fucking die. Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. Her face paled, but not the way her brothers' faces paled. They went whiter than sheets, and both looked ready to do anything to stop what was about to happen.

But then Abaddon laughed. She pulled the blade away. "I'm just kidding," she said.

And then she plunged the knife into Chloe's chest.

()()()

In the backseat, Anna rested her head against the window. But it wasn't any real form of rest. Inside her head were screams. The demon's or her mother's she would never know. So they would forever be her mother's.

And the fault Anna's.

Her bloodshot eyes were dry. Her dirty face saw no fresh tears. Her throat, beyond raw, kept silent.

Her own screams, those were muffled memories. All she had stored away in her memory was the message screamed but never communicated, the feeling of numb panic, the weight of hands on her shoulders, her face, the blur of Abaddon's teleported escape, and the blood, blood, blood that gushed from her mother's chest. The blood, blood, blood had poured too from Anna's own body as she forced her hands to slide out of the cuffs even as Sam begged her to hold still and struggled to pick the lock despite her tugging on the metal.

Her right hand had slipped free from Sam's work at the same time as her left one made a terrible popping sound and went limp enough for Anna to maneuver it out of the cuff.

Screams, screams, screams.

She was so tired, and she would never sleep because the screams were unending, relentless, hopeless, and, worst of all, helpless.

The darkening world outside blared with headlights and the hum of rubber on tarmac. The darkening world inside blared with blood, blood, blood and screams, screams, screams.

She hadn't let them fix her hands, wrists, or face for a long while, and they probably thought it was because she was angry with them, but she wasn't. She just hadn't been able to be touched. She hadn't been able to be looked at. She hadn't been able to do anything. Eventually, they'd stopped despite all the pleading Anna was pretty sure she'd done. There'd been a hospital sign that glowed in the dark of late night, and somehow Anna had wound up with a cast on her wrist, but the details as to how any of her physical pain had been taken care of were too foggy for her to access. And she didn't care enough to try to figure any of it out.

It was a good thing the boys were content to drive straight through to the bunker rather than stopping at a motel, because Anna needed the time to drown in herself. Even now, she felt wrong. She couldn't be anything, do anything, feel anything. She could just think about her mother; who she was, who she could have been, what they could have been, how Anna had so swiftly and thoughtlessly caused her death and, long before that, the loss of her life. 

Forever and ever, Anna had been an agent of chaos, a catalyst for the climax, a synonym for paradox. She wanted, for once, to feel the pain not mixed with guilt. To feel the aftermath without having been the storm.

She wanted to grieve for her mother. But there was nothing to grieve. She'd stolen even that from herself, and all in an effort to learn who it was she'd been grieving for fifteen years.

"Stoppin' for gas," Dean dared to say, his words drawing no real response.

The fill up station was empty save for the Impala and one car parked on the other side of the little lot, likely belonging to whoever was working inside.

It was six o'clock in the morning and none of them had slept. But none of them could have, so they'd just driven for home.

"We should have sped things up," Dean said to Sam as he pumped the gas. "If we'd helped her, this never would've happened. And, you know, you were all for that, man. You were the one who said we had to go all in."

"Yeah, and maybe that was the mistake," Sam replied in fatigued rationality or the opposite: energized confusion. "Maybe this was gonna happen all along. Even if we'd gone with her, who's to say Chloe wouldn't have died anyway? Maybe it would've been better if we'd just said no."

"Or maybe she'd have called Anna, and the same thing would have happened."

"We should've seen it," Sam said. "You did see it, and I just pushed."

"Don't do that, man," Dean advised. He was audibly exhausted. "It's not your fault."

"I guess. But it's not yours either."

"I don't know," Dean said and looked away. "She lost something so big, Sammy. And we were standing right there, and it still happened. If finding out we've been lyin' to her since the day she was born didn't break her trust in us, that had to."

"Dean, we... I mean, what Abaddon... It was unpredictable, to say the least. There was nothing anybody could have done."

"I'll pay," was all Dean said, and he stepped out toward the restaurant.

She'd heard enough, so Anna eased her door open and let the cool night air ghost over her. Nothing got to really touch her anymore.

"I didn't lose anything," she said softly, staring distinctly at the gas pump rather than her brother. "I didn't have anything. I have exactly what I always have and I'm missing exactly what I've always been missing. It's just my fault this time. And maybe I deserve that."

"Anna, no. You did lose something. You lost a lot. I never knew my mother, either, but I've never had hope of meeting her. That's what you ran toward and nobody blames you for it. We should have been there for it instead of fighting it so hard."

"No, you were right," Anna argued tiredly. "I was stupid. It was a fantasy, Sam. It was just a stupid fantasy. The same stupid fantasy I've had since I was five. This picture-perfect idea of what my Mom had to be, of what Dad was. This dream of what it must be like to have a mother. Like she'd just automatically know me or want to know me. Like she'd love me. I broke her life. And I have to live with that."

"You didn't break anything."

"Sam, I did," she said, voice cracking as if on a plea. She may have missed the fragile sign, but that meant nothing here. Glass shards were still covering the ground around their feet. "You know I did. I broke everything."

A new voice joined them with a "Kiddo, don't. Don't take this one on. There's enough for you to deal with without thinkin' this is your fault."

Anna locked her reddened green eyes on Dean's clearer ones.

She thought about when she was thirteen and she met Kate's mother and she couldn't breathe. She thought about how, the next night at the bunker, she'd been unable to sleep and she'd wound up sitting on a couch, snug between her brothers, watching reruns of South Park until 4 in the morning.

She thought about when she was ten years old and ran away and the first thing she got when they found her was a hug so tight it nearly strangled her.

She thought about those days following her father's death and she remembered how un-different they'd been from every day before except for the grief. Because Sam and Dean had been the only ones taking care of her for a year by the time John died.

She thought about that day she sat on the rug in kindergarten class and that kid asked her where she'd come from. She thought about the way Dean had looked at her when she told him about it that night. She thought about the stories he'd told her to make her understand that she was a part of the best family there was.

She thought about when she was three years old and fell on the playground. She thought about the tears she'd cried over a little girl's offer to get her mommy for her, and she thought about the soft flannel against her face when Dean rescued her.

She thought about everything she'd broken and everything she still had. She thought how fragile they all were. How fragile she was and her mother had been.

She thought, Bye, Mom, and it didn't feel awkward, it just felt like the glass was shattering.

La Fin