Sam and I reported our findings to Dean. In simple terms, the dead that rose, were turning sour and would kill anything they could get their hands on. Of course, he wasn't thrilled about it, and we had to tell Bobby before Karen turned on him and eat his guts.

"Keep your damn voices down. Karen's upstairs," Bobby barked at us, rolling into the living room.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We're a little tense right now," Dean remarked, as we traveled around the front, and stood in front of Bobby. "Who's old lady Jones?" Dean asks, as Sam crosses his arms over himself.

"The first one to come up,"

"First one to go bad," Sam was quick with his reply.

"Ah, she was always a nutty broad," Bobby was trying to defend the events of what happened.

"Nutty how? Nutty like the way she ate her husband's stomach? Was that the level of nutty she was in life?" Dean was clearly pissed, and he just wanted to do this job, before more people died.

"No," Bobby's voice was small and soft.

"Look, Bobby, I feel for you. But you have got to acknowledge that you're not exactly seeing this straight!" Dean held back his anger towards Bobby right now, not wanting to fly off the rails.

"Bobby, whether you admit it or not, these things are turning," Sam tried to make Bobby see reason in this. "We have to stop them – all of them," Bobby rolled towards the archway that heads into the hallway, before spinning around. He grabs a gun from the side of his leg, that was in between it and the chair, before placing it on his lap. In clear view for us to see, though he didn't raise it at us - it was just a matter of time before he did.

"Time to go," he was dead serious, but I couldn't help but smirk at his demand.

"What?" Dean was shocked as hell to find this happening right now.

"You heard me. Off my property," Bobby had this cold dead stare, that you knew that if we tried anything he would surely shoot us on the spot.

"Or what? You'll shoot?" Sam seemed hurt by this interaction, and what it could lead to if we went too far.

"If Karen turns I will handle it – my way," he was dead set on these terms, and in a way we had to honor them. The only problem with it being his wife, I don't think he'll have the guts to go through with it, because he lost her once before.

"This is dangerous," Dean didn't let up his intense stare. Bobby cocks his gun, still not pointing at us.

"I'm not telling you twice," it was an intense stare off between us all, and the air was thickening with tension.

"I hope you know what you're doing Bobby," I warned him, as he was playing a very dangerous game here. Without another word, Dean, Sam, and I all walked from the living room, through the kitchen and out of the back door - as that was the way we came.

I climbed into the back of the Impala, as the boys got into their assigned seats. Dean turned the engine on, and we drove away, through the gates. But Dean parked up just outside the scrap-yard. The engine to the Impala shuts off.

"He's crazy," the words flew freely from Dean's lips.

"It's his wife, Dean," Sam could understand what Bobby was going through, as any man who loved their wife would be.

"So he goes 'full metal jacket' on us? We're his family, Sam," Dean spoke wildly, finding the idea of Bobby 'turning' on them maddening.

"Look man, bigger fish, ok? I mean,we got a bunch of zombies about to turn this town into a giant chew toy," Sam was pressing onto bigger matters.

"Yeah, and he's alone in the house making pie with one of 'em!" Dean raised his voice, as he was just really concerned.

"All right? So?"

"So!" Dean replied, his eyes fixed onto his brother - who arched up his eyebrow back, wanting Dean to give him a good answer. "I'm gonna have to go back there. And - And – kill her. That's the only thing I can think of,"

"If he sees you, you're a dead man," Sam knew Bobby, and he was going to be true to his word.

"Well, then, I guess I won't let him see me,"

"One of the many skills of Dean Winchester," I remarked, cracking a chuckle, but he shot me a look, but I didn't care.

"We'll head to town... And rescue everyone – should be easy," Sam added me into the mix, nodding his head back to me slightly.

"Sounds like," Dean remarks, making light of his comment, but Sam just scoffs at him in a playful way.

"I'm gonna need some help," Sam states, as if he didn't have a powerful Hybrid by his side.

"What about the sheriff?"

"Uh, last time I checked. The sheriff was pretty pro-zombies," Sam replied to his brother's question.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to convince her," Dean was hoping Sam could magically convince the Sheriff that her dead son is dangerous.

"How?" Sam was stunned, clearly not thinking of a plan.

"I don't know. You're just gonna," Dean was putting his faith in his brother, and I also had faith he would.

"Can I get my say now?" I asked, arching up an eyebrow, making the boys twist their bodies to face me. I was sitting in the middle of the back seats, eyes flicking between the boys. "I think I can help with the dead situation," as the words left my mouth, their eyes widened as if to tell me to go on. "I might know a spell that would gather all the remaining dead people in town, and 'trigger' their turning," I explained briefly, what this spell could do.

"I feel a but coming," Dean replied, locking eyes with me.

"But, I'll need fresh blood from one of the dead. And I don't think Bobby will willingly sacrifice his wife," my eyes darted from each of the boys.

"And this spell? Will it work?" Sam was skeptical about this spell. "Will it gather every dead person?" He went on, asking another question, wanting to know the ins and outs of the spell. But we didn't have time for that.

"I'm a competent Witch, Sam. Leave it at that," I retorted, as all he needed was to have faith in me, and we will be alright. He nodded his head briefly, agreeing to leave it. "Now let's find a dead body," I said while flourishing my hand up, black smoke generated around me and Sam separately.

Next thing I see, is the smoke fading, and Sam and I now standing near one another on one of the pathwalks in town. Sam turned his head around the environment, seeing where we were.

"This way," Sam instructed, and he marched off down the pathwalk, and I followed behind him with haste. Sam led the way to the sheriff's home, and with how fast we were walking we got there in no time.

As we approached the door, I could smell a lot of blood within. Someone had died, and I don't think it was the Sheriff. I waved my hand out to the door, and it shot open, and Sam went straight in. We arrived inside the living in no time, to see the son covered in blood and the Sheriff looking mortified. Sam latched his large hand onto the sheriff which made her jump, locking eyes with Sam.

"Let's go!"

"No!" She didn't want to leave her son, and her husband. Sam rushed the sheriff out, as I stayed in the living room and my head turned back to see the animalistic gaze of the boy. There was no humanity left in there, it was just primal rage. He shot forward, but I slung my right hand to the right, and the boy followed with the motion. Taken by this strong force. He slams into the cabinet nearby, smashing the glass shelves and the wooden surroundings. The boy brushes it straight off, and stands up in the rumble of the mess that was created. Not phased by the glass he was standing on.

Before he could make a move, I lifted my head up, and the boy shot back to the wall, and was pinned there. He began to form at the mouth, and wiggle around, but he could not move as much as he wanted too. I needed his blood, a bit of it, so this wasn't going to be pleasant.

"Venez sanguis," I began the incantation, my eyes fixed on the boy. "Sanguis venez," the spell began to work, as he began to scream in pain. His arms magically pinned at either side of him, and his head shot back and looked up. As if he was being possessed. I stopped for a moment, thinking about my actions. This boy was a son - who was loved deeply, and here I was about to rip the blood from him. Back in my hay day, I wouldn't have thought twice about this, but I was second guessing myself. At the end of the day, he was already dead.

"Venez sanguis la force de la bête à moi," I finished off the chant. Blood pooled from every orifice in his body; the eyes, the mouth, nose. Anywhere blood could come from it, came. It was all connected through droplets, and cumulated in front of me. The more blood that was drained from him, the weaker he became, no longer struggling to free himself, and finally gave in. On that note, Sam walked in on this happening, and saw what I was doing. Soon enough the boy was bled dry, and the blood stopped flowing. The cumulation of it, swirled and moved, before etching out a square, and bonded together to make a solid form. It was a standard square block a child would play with. It floated in the air, before I grabbed it.

"Find peace," my voice was soft, and caring. I turned to meet Sam. "You'll have to shoot him, I can still hear his heart beating," though my job was done, Sam was actually going to have to shoot him. I could see he was hesitant as anyone would be, but it had to be done. I walked from the living room, and out of the front door, seeing the Sheriff waiting. Undexpectly, a gunshot rang free, and the sheriff jolted in her stance. There was nothing we could do for her now.

..................................

We arrived at the police station, rounding up a few towns folk, and Sam and the Sheriff started to pass out the guns. Explaining what was happening, and all that. However, I was sitting at the desk with my Grimoire open, flicking through the aged crisp pages, finding the spell I needed. I didn't have the cube of blood with me as it would horrify people.

My eyes read through the spell that was on the pages, it was a lengthy one, and would take a lot of people, but lucky for this town - I was powerful. I could hear the chatter, but I blocked it out, focusing on this spell and what I needed to do.

"Uh, you mind telling us who the hell you are?" I hear one of the male town folk speak.

"Friend of Bobby Singer's," Sam replied, kind smug in his reply - as if Bobby's name meant something fancy.

"Town drunk," the man replied. I raised my head up from the page, to see Sam flabbergasted at the statement.

"No. I-I thought he was the town drunk," Sam looked at one of the fellows sitting down.

"Who told you that?" The man asks, clearly already knowing the answer.

"Bobby Singer," Sam's voice was low, but it did bring a smile to my face. My eyes wandered back down to my Grimoire. I read some more about the spell that was given to me from the Grimoire. After a few moments, I felt Sam come behind me and hover.

"And?" He spoke, leaning down, to whisper in my ear. "What else do you need?" He was kind of worried if I needed something living.

"Oh, just twenty-four virgin's," I remarked, cocking my eyes to the side for a moment, seeing his expression - and it wasn't assumed. "I'm all set," I closed the Grimoire. "The thing is-"

"I don't like where this is going," he remarks, cutting me off while straightening up as I get out of the seat.

"You know the gather part of the spell. Well, it needs like a conduit, something the dead can focus on. And well," Sam's face twisted in surprise, as he was connecting the dots together.

"You're going to be their focus?" Sam states, clearly not liking the idea. "Abigael-" I raised my hand up, and my fingers touched his lips.

"I can't put these people in danger. You rather it be me there after, and not these people," I gave him a soft look, as he knew I was right. "I need somewhere quiet," my fingers fell from his lips, while I spoke.

"Follow me," Sam spoke, walking away as I leaned down and grabbed my Grimoire, putting it in the crook of my right arm. I followed Sam to the sheriff's office, it was big enough to do this spell. Sam and I entered, and I placed the book down on the clean desk of the Sheriff's. Magically it shot open, and was already on the page I needed.

"Once I've finished the spell, I'll have to be quick," I state to Sam, as I lean on the desk for a moment, eyes flickering up from the pages to Sam's gaze. I inhaled deeply, getting myself ready. I straightened back up, and black smoke appeared in mid-air, a few inches in front of me. It faded as it came, and there was the cube of blood.

"Sanguis mortuorum non deficient," I began the spell, and instantly, the cube of blood became fluid and moved around. Diverting into droplets, indicating the dead that was still up. There were about fifteen or more. "Intendunt me mortuum," the droplets began to drip down as if it was running. However, the lines began to connect, and divert from their strands. It looked like roots, connected as one main tree, branching in all directions. "Et nulli molestus," as the final part of the incarnation was chanted, the blood caught fire and quickly sizzled down the lines of blood. Before emitting a high blaze that caught Sam and I off guard. I held up my arms to shield myself from the blazing heat, before it quieted down. However, I was no longer in the Sheriff's office but standing in Bobby's living room.

To the right of me was Karen on the bed, a gunshot wound to the head - meaning Bobby had killed her. The spell didn't say I would be transported anywhere, but I could feel in the pit of my stomach that it worked. I have this darkness looming over me, calling out to other evil creatures. In the distance, I could hear multiple shots of gunfire. Before the front door shot open, Bobby came rolling in.

"Abigael?!" Bobby asked wildly, as our gazes met. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"The spell I did. It worked, but it brought me here," I quickly rushed the words out, as there was no time to explain. I could feel the undead coming.

"Got any more ammo? I'm low," Dean's voice pierced the air, as he came to stand next to Bobby.

"Yeah, we got plenty. Just run back past the zombies it's in the van where we left it,"

"A simple 'No' would have been fine," Dean wasn't having any of Bobby's snarkness. "What are they all doing here, anyway?!" Dean wasn't sure, as he strutted back to the front door looking out.

"I think I get it," Bobby had a piece of information that he hasn't shared yet.

"Do enlighten us?!" I rushed out. Before Bobby could speak, an upstairs window shattered. "That's not good," Dean came racing back over with a shotgun in his hand. Suddenly, a zombie jumped through one of the living room windows. Bobby was quick with the draw and shot the man in the head and he went down. Another shot went off, and Dean shot the one coming from the stairs.

"I'm out,"

"Me too," it was intense, the adrenaline was pumping, and certain death would soon follow. Dean pushes Bobby towards the kitchen as a zombie jumps through a window, Bobby holds up the shotgun and Dean grabs it before hitting the zombie hard in the face. He went down, but wouldn't stop him. We made it into the main hallway, ready to go out the back down but a zombie broke through the glass. Zombies were coming from all sides. I flicked my left hand down and fire quickly generated in my palm. I threw my hand in a curved motion, as two separated balls of fire leaped from my palm. Hitting the two oncoming zombies - which once hit with the ball of fire they were shot back as it exploded on impact.

"In," Dean's voice came from behind, as he had opened a closet door, and placed Bobby and him inside. It was fair to many of them to fight, and if they have the strength Ezra Jones had. Well I'll be tossed around like a rag doll. I rushed for the closet, and came inside as the door shut behind me. It was a tight fit, I shuffled and lost my footing and landed on Bobby's lap. Dean switched the light on, and locked the door as the zombies pounded on it.

"Kinda a tight fit, don't you think?!" Bobby states, making me stand up off of him, placing my feet awkwardly between his wheelchair.

"It's alright, they're idiots. They can't pick a lock," Dean was hopeful in his comment. However, the pounding stopped and the knob began to turn and someone was picking the lock.

"Don't you ever get tired of being wrong?" Bobby hissed at Dean.

"I'm making this stuff up as I go. Sue me," Dean snapped back. He raised the but of the shotgun up, as Bobby did the same. I couldn't risk touching the zombies. I might hit Dean or Bobby. I do have fists, and supernatural strength. I raised my hands up and balled them into fists, ready to throw down. Within seconds, the door knob was twisted and suddenly it was shot open. Zombies tried to get their way in, but we held them at bay. Dean hit, I hit, Bobby hit. It was like this perfect pattern. I striked with such force some of the zombies staggered back, and began to bleed.

"Get down!" Sam's voice pierced the air. Before I knew what was happening, Dean grabbed me by the waist, and pulled me to the side, and into him. Shots began to ring out, as I held my head in the crook of his neck. Within moments, the sound of gunfire stopped, and there were no more moans coming from zombies. Dean's eyes locked with mine as I pulled back, I offered a smile, a subtle way to thank him for doing that. I stepped to the middle of the closet to see Sam, and out of the corner of my eyes was Sheriff Mills.

"Are you ok?" Sam asked the general question to the three of us. None of us spoke, but I could feel that looming darkness from the spell fade, meaning that we got everyone who was brought back.

...................................

I helped with the bodies, taking the town folks back to the graveyard, and placed them on the wood ready for them to burn. Sam said he would handle the rest, as Dean and the Sheriff were on patrol looking for any runaway zombie. I told Dean that it was them all, but he wanted to make sure.

I was sitting on top of a white car in the scrapyard, Bobby a few inches away in his wheelchair. He held his own funeral for Karen. It was a way every hunter was sent off. Wrapped up, and placed on a burning pile of wood. The flames roared, as burning flesh waved through the air. But it didn't bother us. The air was silent, as nothing I could say or do could ease his guilt. The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the burning wood. I noticed two pairs of footsteps approaching behind Bobby, and he was no fool, he knew they would come here. They stood behind Bobby as he exhaled a deep breath.

"So, thinking maybe I should apologize for losing my head back there,"

"Bobby," Sam's voice was gentle but he breathed deeply for a moment. "You don't owe us anything,"

"Hey, look, I don't know squat from shinola about love, but... At least you got to spend five days with her, right?" Dean was trying to make Bobby feel better about spending time with his wife before having to kill her second time around.

"Right," he didn't sound too hopeful. "Which makes things about a thousand times worse... She was the love of my life. How many times do I got to kill her?" Bobby was hurting, his expression told us all that.

"Are you gonna be ok, Bobby?" Sam asked, but Bobby didn't reply.

"You boys should know... Karen told me why Death was here," Bobby states, which peaked my interest. I slid off the roof of the car, and landed on my feet, as Sam asked what he meant by his statement. "I know why he took a stroll through a cemetery in the sticks of South Dakota... He came for me," it was kind of shocking to hear.

"What do you mean, you?" Dean wasn't getting a clear image in his head.

"Death came for me. He brought Karen back to send me a message,"

"You? Why you?" Dean asked, as I came a few inches away, arms crossed over my chest.

"Because I've been helping you, you sons of bitches," Bobby raised his head up to look at Dean. "I'm one of the reasons you're still saying no to Lucifer, Sam," Bobby turned his head to the other side of him to meet Sam's gaze.

"So this was like a hit on your life?" Dean spoke wildly.

"I don't know if they wanted to take my life or... My spirit," Bobby meant that metaphorically. To drain his spirit so he had no fight left in him. "Either way, they wanted me out of the way," he made the realization that this was dangerous.

"But you're gonna be all right... Right, Bobby?" Sam wasn't too convinced as Bobby took his head up to meet his gaze.

"Will any of us be ok?" I pondered the question aloud. The air was silent for a moment, as I allowed it to sink in for them. "It won't stop at Bobby, just know that," without another word, and without letting them speak. I vanished in a blink of an eye, away from the scrapyard, and away from the Winchesters...

***********