John calls her a week later, asks did she know, did Sam tell her while they were in town.

He’s angry at her but she doesn’t care. She tells him, not caring how loud she is, “I know you’re not mad at me. It’s not like you’re the easiest person in the world to get a hold of. Maybe if you had stuck around like I’d asked, you would’ve found out around the same time I did.”

He’s quiet a moment before he agrees, says, “You’re right. You know Dean said pretty much the same thing.” She doesn’t have to have her gift to know he hates to admit that.

“Somebody needs to tell you something. And you need to listen.” She huffs. “So what’s the plan now?”

“I told them what I know. We’ll going to do this together.”

“Good.”

The next time he calls it’s late and he’s scared. That she can tell even if he won’t admit it.

“Missouri you need to get to Bobby’s” are the first words out of his mouth.

“I’m in danger.” She turns on her bedside lamp.

“Yeah. I told you about the danger. One of them called me. Her name’s Meg.”

“Meg,” she repeats, sliding out of bed, making her way to her closet.

“Meg. She killed Jim,” he pauses, takes a deep breath. “Right in the church.”

“A demon on hallowed ground?” She can’t believe it.

“She killed Caleb, too.”

She takes a moment, one hand braced on the closet door. She’d only met each of them a handful of times, them passing through town. She’s heard about them a lot though. Stories from the boys from their time spent with them. Dean and Caleb forged a special bond over hunting while Pastor Jim and Sam did the same over books. She can only imagine how the boys are feeling right now.

“She’ll kill you, too. They’re going to keep killing everyone the boys and I know. Her exact words were ‘friends, anyone that has every helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved, they’ll all die unless you give us the gun.’”

“The Colt? It exists.” He’s mentioned it to her a few times, believing that it existed and a fellow hunter had it.

“Daniel Elkins had it.”

“He’s dead, too. Vampires of all things.”

“Yeah. It’s not important. I gotta figure out a plan but until then, I don’t want you alone. Get to Bobby’s. He’ll know what to do.”

“He knows I’m coming.”

“I called him first.”

“I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

As she packs, she thinks about her they had taken care of the house. They’d dug up the floor just behind the doors and pieces of the windowsills. They’d poured salt in the holes and replaced the wood so no one could tell those places had been touched. They’d put Devil’s Traps under rugs and furniture so nothing ever moved from its place.

She could’ve explained it though. Her customers wouldn’t have been surprised by such unfamiliar things; probably expected it of her. All she would have to do is tell them some story and they’d buy it.

She thinks how if Meg had found her first she wouldn’t have been safe in her own home. For all she knows and all the times trouble could’ve followed the Winchesters home, she’s always felt safe here.

She packs light and fast – clothes, toiletries, protection while she’s on the road. She makes sure things are turned off before she’s out on the front walk looking back at her home. She wonders when she’ll get back to it, if she ever will.

It’s a ten hour drive to Bobby’s. She’s driven the route a couple of times before. To pick up boys who needed to get back to school. To take John’s off Bobby’s hands. John’s never been the best patient and Bobby is no Florence Nightingale.

She hasn’t seen Bobby in a quite awhile. It’ll be good to see him just not under these circumstances.

The drive is long. She pretty much drives non-stop, only bathroom breaks in the most populated places she can find. She eyes every woman with suspicion having no idea what this Meg demon looks like.

The coffee, music – old school soul – and cool late night/early morning wind keeps her awake, moving down long stretches of highway with only whatever animals that own the night for company.

It’s just after dawn when she arrives, pulling up the dirt road to the house in the middle of pretty much nowhere.

It doesn’t seem like much has changed, still junkers all over the place in various states. Bobby’s old faded blue pickup is still parked out front. The house with chipped blue paint and windows that still need replacing. The only thing that’s missing is the sound of Rumsfeld, alerting Bobby to her arrival.

She hears him when she knocks. Bobby’s there a few seconds later. Rumsfeld skirts around his legs, touches his nose to Missouri’s hand. She pets him while greeting Bobby.

“Missouri Mosley. Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?” He smiles wide.

“Bobby Singer. Don’t act like didn’t know I was coming.” Her smile matches his.

They embrace, not letting go for several moments until Rumsfeld whines about being ignored.

“Seems like old Rummy here’s missed you, too.”

“Hey, there boy,” she says, while he lies on his back. “Now you know an old lady like me can’t get down like I used, too.”

“You ain’t old because that means I’m old.”

“I hate to break it to ya Bobby.” He laughs.

“Let me get your bags. Make yourself at home. You know where everything is.”

She shrugs out of her jacket, lies it on the first available chair back in the living room. His house is so unlike her own, cluttered, dusty, desperately in need of woman’s touch. She likes it anyway. The history of the house itself and the history it holds. Books on every available surface covering all kinds of subjects related to religion and the supernatural.

The desk he always works at sits in front of a wall full of tacked up paper between two tall windows with shutters on the bottom. The room is kind of dark, with the only light being what filters in through the space not covered by shutters. She sees the open book on his desk. It’s open to some page. A black and white drawing of a Devil’s Trap stating up at her. She sits down, starts reading with Rummy by her side.

She listens to Bobby come in the room.

“Boning up I see.” She looks up at him.

“Yeah. John and those boys have stepped into some serious crap,” he tells her, sitting on the edge of the desk. He sighs as if to say ‘it’s always something.’

“Ya think?”

“In a normal year, I’d hear of say three demonic possessions. Maybe four tops. This year I’ve heard of 27 so far. More and more demons are walking among us. A lot more.”

“Do you have any idea why?” Missouri asks, not liking the sound of this at all.

“No. But I know it’s something big. A storm’s coming and the Winchesters are smack in the middle of it. We’re gonna catch hell just by association.”

She doesn’t think the expression on her face suggests what he says to her but who knows. She’s tired. “Bet now you wished you’d never let John in that night.”

She huffs a laugh. “You’d think. But no.” He laughs, too in understanding.

“You want to get some sleep?” he asks after they’ve lapsed into silence.

She looks up. “I should. John called me just as I was about to fall sleep.”

“We’ll talk when you get up. The room is the second on the left.”

It’s well after four when she gets up. Muted sunlight fills the room. She hadn’t bothered to change, just fell into bed and was sleep as soon as she closed her eyes. Her clothes feel too tight and her mouth is dry.

She showers in the bathroom with the old fashion claw tub like the one she’s got at home, then follows the smell of coffee into the kitchen. Rummy greets her first.

“Hey, boy.”

“Afternoon,” Bobby greets, mug of coffee in his hand.

“Afternoon and yes,” she says, sliding into the closest chair at the wooden kitchen table.

“Hungry?” He places the coffee in front of her. The sugar and cream, too.

“Yes. Whatever you got.”

He sets to work fixing her a plate.

“So you’re not too sure we’ll survive this,” she says as she eyes him over the cup of her coffee.

He stiffens for a second. “Hey, now. Don’t go reading my thoughts.”

“Sorry.” She waits a beat. “So.”

He moves around the kitchen warmed by the sun still high in the sky. It’s homey, old fashion in its charm. He talks as he goes.

“I know about demons. But I don’t about any demons that can go onto hallowed ground. We must be dealing with some really powerful ones. I’ve been reading up trying to find something. Hopefully, they can still be stopped by a Devil’s Trap. And that they can be exorcised. If not, we’re up shit’s creek.”

“That’s why John wanted me to come here. I don’t how to do an exorcism.”

“I’ve only done a few myself. The last one was so long ago.” He places two plates down on the table. He sits. Rumsfeld sits right between the two, perfectly positioned just in case either one of them drops some food.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to. John and boys can kill this thing with the Colt. And then this whole thing will be over.”

“John always said he thought Danny Elkins had it. The SOB was right.”

They talk some more, reminiscing, avoiding shop talk before moving on to the basement.

“My version of a panic room,” he says as he pushes open a large metal door. He steps into the space and then motions her to follow.

The space is large, round in shape, lit up by the sunlight that comes in through the ceiling. The shadow of a Devil’s trap on the floor.

“Wow, Bobby.” She’s amazed and a little taken aback. He can tell.

“I have a lot of time on my hands,” he defends.

“I’m not judging. Better safe than sorry.” She smiles at him before turning back to look around.

He tells her, “The walls are solid iron. There’s enough food and water in here to last a week.” She can see two single cots and a desk, already with books on it. “So if anything happens and you can get down here, get down here. You’ll be safe.”

“Okay,” she says although it’s not like she can’t handle herself. She can shoot a gun, wield a knife. John wouldn’t let her get away with not knowing. What if you need to defend the boys? She hasn’t done it in years though so she’s not sure how good she’d be at this point.

She remembers the first time he took out for training. First, up was learning how to shoot, a Tuesday morning when the boys were in school. They were in some empty field off a lesser travelled road out of town. It was like some scene out of the movies – tin cans placed on a rock and them some number of feet away. He stood behind her, both of their legs a little bit shoulder width apart, arms outstretched and fingers wrapped around a .22 pistol.

It’s easy. Just relax and breathe when you pull the trigger. Not hard. Just a little pressure as you squeeze.

Easier said than done so it was awhile before he stepped away and let her do it on her own.

The knife was a lot harder to learn. They both have the scars to prove it.

Three days later and the boys come. Missouri, Bobby and Rumsfeld perking up at the sound of the Impala rolling up to the house. She recognizes those looks, looks that mean they don’t know where John is and it’s killing them both.

“Your father…” she starts, hugging them both one by one after they’ve dropped their bags.

“Meg says she’s got him,” Dean tells them. “She didn’t tell us where.” He turns to Bobby. “We came here first. They probably find us.”

Confident, Bobby says, “I can handle it. I know a little something about demons.”

Dean and Sam don’t take the time to eat or rest a minute even though she insists. After awhile she gives up and joins them. They pour over the book on Bobby’s desk, Sam marveling that he’s never seen anything like it. Bobby tells him what he told her about the mess they’re in. He then leads them to the next room and looks up.

Dean snorts. “Damn Bobby.”

“You’ll thank me later” is all he says.

As Sam recounts how Meg came into their lives, he’s replaced Missouri as Rummy’s favorite human. They plan into the early evening and then expect to wait. For how long, they are unsure. They are about to turn in, except for Bobby who’s got first shift, when the sound of Rummy’s anguished whine comes. Then the door flies open and there’s Meg, a little slip of a thing with a blonde shag cut in blue jeans and a reddish/purple jacket.

Missouri could still make it to the basement but she’s rooted in place by the energy coming off of Meg. It’s not as pure and strong as what she felt walking around the Winchester property soon after Mary died. But it’s close.

“No more crap, okay?” are the first words out of Meg’s mouth.

Dean approaches Meg ready to splash her with the Holy water Bobby had given him. He doesn’t get close enough to do anything. Meg flings him into a stack of books almost as high as the ceiling. Sam steps in front of her, putting distance between them and Meg.

“I want the Colt, Sam. The real one. Right now,” she demands.

“We don’t have it on us. We buried it,” Sam lies.

“Didn’t I say no more crap?” Meg stalks towards Missouri, Sam and Bobby as they back into the next room.

“I swear after everything I’ve heard about you Winchesters, I gotta tell you I’m a little underwhelmed. First, Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun. And then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. Lackluster man. I mean did you really think I wouldn’t find you?” Meg asks.

Dean emerges behind her, a little shaken, voice hoarse as he says, “Actually, we were counting on it.”

Meg turns to look at him, not really believing it. Dean’s look says ‘We gotcha” as his eyes travel to the ceiling. Meg follows his gaze, eyes going wide and angry at the Devil’s Trap.

“When I get out of here, you all are going to pay,” Meg threatens as she walks around the edge of the trap, making sure she locks eyes with every one of them.

“Trust me, sweetheart you’re not going anywhere,” Dean boasts, rope in hand. Sam’s got the chair and they’re ready.

“Be careful boys. You have to help the girl in there.” She tells them this as she stands a few feet from Meg. Meg turns to her, snarls.

Then she smiles. “Missouri Mosley. You were next, you know?”

“Shut up, Meg,” Sam warns as he pushes her down into the chair.

“Don’t worry about it Sam,” Missouri tells him. “That’s just the demon talking. That girl in there? She’s got nothing to do with this.”

She can hear the real Meg, the twenty-one year young woman, screaming, trapped inside her own body. She wishes she could turn her gift off, block out Meg’s pain. She’s been forced to do many evil things. She leaves the room, beckoning them all to follow.

“We got to find out where our dad is,” Dean says to Missouri once they’re all far enough away not to be overheard.

“Boy, don’t you think I know that? She’s still a human being, an innocent victim in all this.” Missouri takes a deep breath. “I’m not saying don’t do it. Just be careful.”

“There’s no way to be careful. She fell out of a window. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon.” Bobby looks at Sam and Dean. “You exorcise it, she dies.”

Dean’s the first to speak again. “We are not going to leave her like that. We’re going to put her out of her misery.” He stalks back into the room.

“You know if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask,” Meg says as if this situation something to joke about.

“Where’s our father, Meg?” Dean asks.

“You didn’t ask very nice,” Meg taunts.

“Okay. Where’s our father, bitch?”

“Geez, you kiss your mother with that mouth? Oh, I forgot. You don’t.” Her smile is sickening sweet.

“You think this is a freaking game?” Dean yells right in her face. “Where is he? What did you do to him?”

“He died screaming. I killed him myself,” she spits. Dean sneers before backhanding her. 

“Dean!” Missouri yells.

“That’s kind of a turn on. You hitting a girl,” she smirks.

“You’re no girl. At least not all of you.”

Sam takes that as his cue. He steps closer, John’s journal open in his hands.

“You going to read me a story, Sammy?”

“Something like that,” Dean says. “Hit it Sam.” Sam begins chanting in Latin.

“An exorcism? Are you serious?”

“We’re going for it baby. Head spinning. Projectile vomiting. The whole nine yards.” Missouri watches as Meg closes her eyes as Sam continues chanting. She grunts in pain. Then her eyes fly open. She turns to look at Sam behind her.

“I’m going to kill you. I’m going to rip the bones from your body.” Her voice is deeper now.

“No, you’re going to burn in hell unless you tell us where our dad is.” Dean is back in her face. Meg smiles and says nothing. “Well, at least you’ll get a nice tan.” Dean looks at Sam who’s stopped. He starts again causing Meg to shake.

Meg’s voice is a harsh whisper, words coming through clenched teeth. “He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his sons one last time. That’s when I slit his throat.”

“For your sake, I hope you’re lying because if it’s true, I swear to God, I will march into Hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you sons of bitches so help me God.” Dean means it. Missouri knows he would find a way.

The air in the room changes, gets colder, stronger, flipping pages in books the more Sam reads.

“Where is he?”

“You won’t just take dead for an answer.”

“Where is he?”

“Dead.”

“No he’s not,” Dean yells, spitting in Meg’s face. “He’s not dead. He can’t be.” Under the anger, Missouri hears the fear. The sound of a child that can’t stand the idea of losing his father.” Sam stops and looks at Dean. He’s afraid it’s true and afraid for Dean. “What are you looking at?” Deans snaps. “Keep reading.”

Meg screams in pain. The chair moves of its own accord in the circle, the harsh sound of wood on wood filling the air as well. She stops, bending at the waist as if to catch her breath.

“He will be,” Meg shouts. “He will be after what we do to him.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Dean questions.

“You don’t.”

“Sam,” Dean says at the same time Missouri says, “She’s telling the truth.”

Meg continues. “A building, okay? A building in Jefferson City.”

“Missouri? Where? An address?”

“I don’t know.”

“And the Demon we’re looking for, where is it?” Sam asks.

“I don’t know,” Meg says. She looks on the verge of tears, some of the real girl slipping through. “I swear. That’s everything. That’s all I know.” She bends at the waist again.

Missouri repeats, “She’s telling the truth.”

“Finish it” is Dean’s only response as he walks around her bent form.

“What?” Meg screams.

Sam interjects. “We can still use her. Find out where the demon is.”

Missouri tells him, “She’s doesn’t know.”

Sam’s disappoint is clear in the look he gives her, the deep breath he takes before he starts again. Meg shakes from side to side so violently. Harsh turns of her body. Her eyes go black. All this before her head goes all the way back. She screams, a thick rush of black smoke pushes out of her mouth towards the ceiling. There’s so much smoke. It seems to go on and on. Missouri expects it to fill the room but instead it disappears into the vents.

The last wisp of it leaves Meg’s mouth, then her head drops, chin to chest. Drops of blood fall onto her jeans. Everyone is frozen in shock, even Bobby who’s seen this kind of thing before. The room is so quiet for several long moments.

Missouri inches toward Meg, knowing she’s still holding on. A touch to her shoulder and Meg slowly lifts her head. There’s blood around her mouth, coming out of her nose.

“Call 911. Get some water and blankets Bobby,” Missouri orders. “You two get over here and untie her.

“Thank you,” Meg whispers.

“Ssh, ssh. Take it easy, honey.” Missouri soothes as best she can.

“Come on, Sam, let’s get her down.” Meg moans in agony as they hear bones crack. They lay her down on the floor.

Sam tells her, “We've got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Meg tells them, eyes on Missouri, who has Meg’s head in her lap. “It’s been a year.” She says it twice. “I’ve been awake for some of it.” She coughs up some blood. “I couldn’t move my own body. It was a nightmare.”

“Was it telling us the truth about our dad?” Dean asks.

“Dean,” Sam admonishes.

“We need to know,” Dean responds, cutting his eyes at Sam.

“Yes, but it wants you to know that they want you to come for him.”

“Dad’s still alive. None of that matters.”

Bobby comes back with water and some blankets. He hands the glass to Dean and a blanket to Sam. Meg can hardly get the water down.

“Where is the demon we are looking for?” Sam asks, clearly now agreeing with his brother.

“Not there. Other ones. Awful ones.” She grimaces in pain.

“She doesn’t have much longer,” Missouri tells them.

“Where are they keeping our Dad?” Dean asks.

“The river. Sunrise” are her last words, a whisper.

“Sunrise? What’s that mean? What’s that mean?” Dean asks, panic in his voice.

“She’s gone,” Missouri says as she closes Meg’s eyes.

Missouri closes her eyes, says a prayer for Meg’s soul. She’s always been on the periphery of the supernatural. Most of the time anyway. She’s never been close enough to see someone die.

By the time she opens her eyes, she's alone in the room with Meg’s body. Voices coming from the next room.

She can’t bring herself to leave just yet, so she stays kneeling, cradling Meg’s head in her lap, knees starting to hurt but she doesn’t care.

When Sam and Dean come back in, they come over to her.

She shakes her head at them. “I’m fine. Fine. You two be careful now. Promise me.” She can feel the tears spilling down her face.

They promise before kissing her goodbye.

Soon after the front door closes, Bobby’s back.

“So the paramedics aren’t coming?”

“Nope,” Bobby admits. “I’m good but not that good.”

“Her parents need to know what happened to her.”

Bobby sighs. “We’ll figure something out.”

Turns out there aren’t many options that won’t have the cops asking a whole lot of questions. The simplest option they determine is the best. They leave her body on the side of the road far enough away from Bobby’s and close enough to town. They cover their tracks as best they can.

They bury Rumsfeld under his favorite tree.

She stays a few more days, reading the local paper for word that Meg’s been identified. On the fourth day, the story is on the front page again. It says her parents, Marshall and Sara Masters, are coming to claim the body.