Out of politeness we sat around the dining table, as Karen served everyone with a slice of homemade pie. Bobby was at the head of the table, Dean was opposite Sam. I was across from Bobby, meaning I was at the other end of the table. A boy on both my arms - so to speak.

Dean was already chowing down on the pie. "Mmm," the sound fell from his mouth with delight. "This is incredible, Mrs Singer," Dean states with a mouthful of pie, as she places a piece on Sam's place.

"Thank you, Dean," she replied to his comment. Walking on over to the side of Bobby ready to cut him a slice. I could hear Sam clear his throat and Dean locked his gaze on his brother.

"What? It is," he defended his comment, chewing the pie freshly made. I took my gaze to my plate, and though it did look delicious, I refrained myself from eating the dessert.

"It's great, Karen. Thanks," Bobby looked up to his doting wife. "Could you, um, just give us a minute?" He asked her, and she nodded with a smile on her face. She cast her gaze to the table, locking eyes briefly with us all, as we all smiled at her - assuring that it wasn't anything bad. The table became quiet as Karen walked away through the doorway into the kitchen, as we watched her pull them closer together, to ensure privacy. Once she moved away, Sam shoved his plate away, and he and Dean twisted their bodies to face him.

"Are you crazy? What the hell?" Dean exclaimed in a hush tone.

"Dean, I can explain," Bobby assured us that there was a good reason for his lying to us.

"This should be good," I mumbled under my breath, reaching my left hand out to grab the cup. By magic the cup filled with hot tea, the steam quickly rising from the cup. I brought the cup to my lips, and took a sip as Bobby's gaze drifted away from me.

"Explain what? Lying to us? Or the American girl zombie making cupcakes in your kitchen?!" Dean wasn't holding anything back, he was visibly angry with Bobby for keeping this from us.

"First of all, that's my wife, so watch it," Bobby snapped back through gritted teeth.

"Bobby, whatever that thing is in there, it is not your wife," Sam now chimed in, getting his point across with his index finger raised.

"And how do you know that?"

"Are you serious?" Sam shot back, as in this line of work, the dead doesn't typically sprung back to life without an looming effect.

"You think I'm an idiot, boy?"

"Still debating," I whispered into my cup, before taking another sip of it.

"My dead wife shows up on my doorstep, I'm not gonna test her every way I ever learned?" He rolled out the words with ease, as Bobby wasn't dumb.

"So what is it? Zombies? Revenant?" Dean listed off a few creatures that she could be.

"Hell if I can tell. She had no scars, no wounds, no reaction to salt, silver, holy water," Bobby spoke, as nothing he tried affected her.

"Bobby, she crawled out of her coffin,"

"No, she didn't. I cremated her," this changed a lot, cremated bodies don't tend to come back together to make a whole of a person. "Somehow, some way, she's back,"

"That's impossible," Sam replied to the back end of his comment. His statement wasn't all that true, nor is it truly impossible in the supernatural world.

"Tell me about it,"

"You bury her ashes?" Sam asks quickly.

"Yeah,"

"Where?" Dean jumped on the bandwagon, as I brought up the cup to my lips and took another sip.

"In the cemetery. That's where they all rose from," there was obviously more than two of the dead coming back from the dead.

"How many?" My voice soared through the air, as Bobby's attention turned to me.

"Fifteen, twenty. I made a list," Bobby plunged his hand into his shirt pocket, and pulled free a piece of paper. Sam holds out his hand as Bobby manages to free the paper and hands it to him. Sam opens the paper, and takes a gander at the names. "Uh, there's Karen. Clay. Sheriff Mills – her little boy came back," Bobby rolled off a few of the names. He could be sly as a fox when he wanted to be.

"And there were no signs? No omens?" Sam asked, because the dead just don't just rise without warning. There are omens.

"Well, there were the lightning storms," as the words left his mouth, Dean threw up his hand in annoyance and anger.

"This is clearly a new side to you Bobby, and I'm loving it," I remarked, allowing a wide smile to etch upon my red lipstick stained lips. Bobby met my gaze, but I could tell in his eyes that he was guilty about lying to the boys, but love trumped anything.

"That's what we said. What else?" Dean's voice was rough and slightly raised, as he wanted the truth from Bobby. Bobby rolled himself out from under the table, and turned to the left, and wheeled himself over to the desk. Picking up a thick book, and opening to a page he had marked.

"And through the fire stood before me a pale horse. And he that sat atop him carried a scythe, and I saw since he had risen, they too, shall rise, and from him and through him," Bobby read the passage from the Book of Revelations, not lifting his gaze up until the end. His eyes flicked from Dean, then to Sam. As we all made the connection on who was currently in town.

"So, what, Death is behind this?" Dean questioned, his tone clearly not happy.

"Death? Death? Like 'Grim Reaper' Death?" Sam wanted to clarify if this was the main Death.

"Yeah." Bobby responded, rolling himself back over to the table.

"Awesome," sarcasm laced Dean's words, as he placed a hand upon his forehead. As the last horseman really took a number on him. It did us all. "Another Horseman. Must be Thursday," I see Dean rub his forehead, not happy about it.

"Bobby," Sam began, swiftly coming up from his chair. "Why would death raise fifteen people in a podunk town like Sioux Falls?" Sam made his way around Bobby as he asked these questions. He gripped the book Bobby placed down, and began to look over it, as he perched his behind on the desk.

"I don't know," Bobby had no clue why Death would do this.

"You know, if Death is behind this, then whatever these things are... It's not good," Dean became serious, his eyes locked on Bobby. "You know what we have to do here," Dean was suggesting that we had to kill Bobby's wife.

"She doesn't remember anything, you know," Bobby states.

"What do you mean?" Dean was fast on his reply.

"Being possessed, me killing her," Bobby explained. I lowered my cup back down onto its saucer. "Her coming back," his voice was soft.

"Bobby,"

"No, no, don't 'Bobby' me. Just... Just listen, ok?" Bobby was in distress about the situation. In the kitchen Karen was doing her own thing, and she was humming softly. "She hums when she cooks," he was remembering the memories of the past. "She always... Used to hum when she cooked. Tone deaf as all hell, but... And I never thought I would hear it again," Bobby was feeling all sorts of emotions right now, most of all he was in love again. I noticed the boys share a look with one another. "Look, just read Revelation. The – The dead rise during the apocalypse. There's nothing in there that says that's bad! Hell, maybe it's the one good thing that comes out of this whole bloody mess," he was trying to justify the dead raising, but it was unnatural.

"The dead should stay dead," Bobby's eyes darted over to me, clearly not liking my comment. "Whoever she is in there. She's not your wife, she's a walking, talking corpse of your late wife," I gave him the cold hard truth, sooner or later her body would rot, and become a monster that he will fear.

"And what would you do if you were us?" Dean leaned ever so slightly forward, not allowing Bobby to reply to my comment. Bobby flicked his eyes between the boys. He already knew what he would do if the roles were reversed.

"I know what I'd do," he admitted with defeat. "And I know what you think you got to do. But... I'm begging you. Please. Please, leave her be," his eyes flicked to me, including me in this. He didn't want to see his wife be killed not again, and surely not by his hands. All I could do was comply with his wishes. But if it came down to Bobby or her. Of course, I would choose the living.

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

Later that day, Dean was staking out Bobby's just to make sure Karen didn't go all wild and kill him. While Sam went to check out the Sheriff's home, and then to a woman who was the first one to rise from the ground. Ezra Jones.

I was also leaning against one of the pillars on the porch outside her home. I think I was there for a few minutes, before I noticed Sam at the gate, peering down at the address on the piece of paper. His head rose up, and noticed me, which indicated he was at the right house.

"Sam," I greeted with a smile, as he came up the porch-steps. "I thought I'll aid you on this one," he gave me a raise of his eyebrow, but he learned not to question my motions. Sam came to the front door, and knocked a few times. I leaned up from the pillar, and turned around to stand diagonally to him.

"Mrs Jones," his voice was loud enough for someone inside to hear him. But we didn't get any answer. Sam's gaze dropped to the floor, to see a formation of blood. His head snapped to me, and nodded slightly to look at the blood.

"Fresh," my tone was serious, as I could just tell. Sam turned his gaze back to the door, ready to open it. However, I blinked and was on the other side of the door, inside the house, and turned the knob, opening the door to Sam. He looked dumbfounded for a moment, but I just offered a smile, stepping to the side, allowing him entry.

"Ezra Jones?" Sam allowed his voice to echo out into the house, as I shut the door. The house looked a mess, as if no one had cleaned it in years. In another room, we could hear the faint sound of coughing. Sam led us through into the next room, and in the bed was an elderly woman, sat up, but from here she looked sickly.

"Um... Ezra Jones?" I could tell Sam was repulsed from her ill appearance. She coughed harshly, as if she had something lodged in her throat. She was waving her hand for us to come closer. However, the coughing didn't let up. She once again beckoned us to come closer. "Uh..." Sam took a few steps forward - I wouldn't even call it that. It was more like a shuffle. "What is it?" Ezra waved her hand for him to come closer and coughed some more. "You think maybe you could tell me from here?" Sam asked with a sheepish expression - as he didn't want to catch anything from here. "Yeah. I'm gonna regret this," Sam spoke aloud, allowing me to chuckle at his comment.

"Let us see," I remarked, and used the palm of my hand to push on his back, pushing him slightly forward. Sam crept forward, as a white substance came from her mouth, and her face looked rotted. Sam leaned in closer, and closer, as I was enjoying the moment. Ezra coughed and grunted into Sam's ear, as she was trying to form words, but couldn't.

Once Sam was close enough, Ezra let out a banshee-like scream, and pushed Sam away. Which caught him off guard, and he fell back onto the floor. I shot forward, as she shot from the bed, and landed on Sam - straddling him. Sam held her back, as she shrieked like a wild animal. I came behind Ezra and gripped her cold nape, and flung her back off Sam, and with my demonic strength, she went flying through the air, and hit the back wall, landing on the mattress. I turned my eyes upon Sam, who had white slobber on him.

"Gross," I pulled a disgusted face, finding it disgusting to look at. I was about to lean down, as I felt the cold-hands of Ezra pushing me. It was like a muscled man throwing me. I flew through the air, and skidded through into the main entrance, and stopped just in front of the door - groaning. The next thing I hear is a gunshot ringing out, making me jolt to my feet, and rush back over to see Sam, gun in hand, and Ezra miller shot in head, and laying next to her dead husband. Sam groans in disgust, and leans up, using the sleeve of his jacket to wipe his cheek.

"You alright?" I came to stand in front of Sam and looked down to him, as he met my gaze. "This is going to happen to all of them, it's just a matter of time," I announced with a dead serious tone, as I extended my hand out for him to grab - which he did. I pulled him to his feet with no strain. "We need to tell Dean," he needs to know about this.

"Let's go," Sam announced, putting the handgun back in the waist of his jeans. Both of us headed for the front door. This was pressing information....

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