Driver picks the music. Shotgun shuts his cakehole. That was one of the first things that was snapped at me when I tried to mess with the radio. We had been driving for nearly two hours and Dean had put in one of his cassette tapes; Bob Segar. Currently, the melody of Beautiful Loser was playing softly with the Winchester tapping the wheel rhythmically to the beat.

"How much did she tell you about Becca?"

The question caught me off guard. The music and the purr of the engine were the only things that were cutting the awkward tension of silence that hung between the driver and I since we started our voyage. I knew he had questions about what Lexi had told us, especially after I had mentioned Becca in the debriefing room.

"Well, she told us that you guys met in high school and then didn't have contact until Becca's ninth birthday party. She mentioned moving to Washington State and how you spent a year with them. And she mentioned how a demon possessed her and made her slit Becca's throat..."

She had mentioned other things, too, but those were the big main events that served as a summary of the portion of Lexi's story that contained her daughter. We knew about everything from when Becca was nine to her death. I risked a look over at Dean as I trailed off, trying to gauge his reaction. His face was stone as he stared out at the road and I was reminded of another part of Lexi's tale; driving in the car with the demonic version of the man beside me. Multiple times, the fact that he was stone-faced and essentially emotionless during that period of time had come up.

"Rebecca was her world. It was just the two of them for so long. Sometimes I wish I hadn't shown up and inserted myself into their lives. Lexi would still have Becca and they could still have a regular life together."

"But she wouldn't have Milo if you hadn't shown up, either. And she loves that boy just as much, if not more than she loved Becca. You can't just focus on the negatives, Dean. A lot of good came out of you showing back up in her life, too."

Dean scoffed, glancing over at me.

"You know, that sounds a lot like what she said to me in Sioux Falls after Sam showed back up."

"Best year of her life, seeing you and Becca together," I nodded.

"So she told you about Becca. What else did she tell you about?"

"She mentioned that after Becca died and she forgot about you, she lost herself in hunting for a few years. The next big thing she told us about, though, was your time as a demon."

The driver let a huff of air from his nose and rolled his eyes at that. It wasn't really something I wanted to get into either. Lexi had said everything she told us was relevant, would all lead to why they had gone after the President. Part of me wished she had left that portion of the story out, though. Yes, knowing about that explained Milo, but really, we could have figured that out without knowing about the time she spent with Demon Dean.

"After that?"

"After that the next big thing she felt like talking about was how you forced Lucifer out of the President."

"So you know that it wasn't an assassination attempt."

"I know from her claims that it wasn't one."

"What do you believe, agent?"

"What do I believe?"

Dean turned his head to look at me for a moment before looking back at the road.

"Do you believe Lexi was telling the truth about the monsters? Lucifer? All that?"

"I believe she believes it. And I think there has to be some grain of truth to it, because no mother can fake the level of emotion she had when she was telling us how Becca died. That was the only time I ever saw her actually cry during her time with us."

"But you don't believe it."

"It's complicated."

The silence between us hung heavy, the tension thicker than ever. In truth, I was open to the idea that the more occult, supernatural type aspects of Lexi's story, and by extension what the Winchesters did, was true. The particular tidbit I pointed to for my reasoning was Rebecca's death.

What Dean said about Becca being Lexi's whole world was true. Anyone who had listened to her talk about the kid could tell that for a fact. Furthermore, her reactions when talking about being possessed by a demon, describing being trapped in her own head as she felt her own hand move across her daughter's throat without her consent... that wasn't something you could fake.

Some people, including the members of the BAU, would dismiss the tears as a sign of remorse. That she felt guilty for murdering her own child and made up the story of being possessed by a demon to compensate. It wasn't the first time someone who was normally gentle in nature made such claims as a way to deal with killing a loved one. However, the fear Lexi had described when talking about not being able to move her own body without her consent was something I couldn't dismiss as a compensation technique. Either everything she told us, including the occult aspects, was true or...

"I believe it's true."

There was a jolt as Dean accidentally hit the acceleration too hard, before he quickly slowed back down a bit. Turning to look at him, I saw his mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide as he processed my words.

"You just said..." he trailed off.

"I know what I said... and like I said, the amount of emotion Lexi showed when speaking about Becca's death is hard to fake. All of it. The sadness, the fear... Unless she was faking caring about her kid, I can't think of any other explanation unless it's true and all of it is real... the monsters, the demons..."

"What fear?"

"When she described being possessed by the demon; being trapped in her own head and not being able to control what she was doing... A lot of people I put away claim stuff like that, but the fear in her eyes when she said it... Like I keep saying, it's hard to fake something like that."

Again, it was like I could see the wheels in Dean's head turning as he processed my words.

"Can I ask you a question?" I inquired after a few moments of silence.

He glanced at me before staring back at the road.

"Why'd you ask for me? When you first showed up? Anyone on my team, and you insisted on me."

"She liked you. Before she went missing, she would spout off random comments referencing her time with you guys. Most of them were about you."

"What kind of comments?"

"Like, one morning she was making coffee and mentioned that you like yours with two sugars and just a dash of cream..."

"She remembered that?"

"Apparently... Or the time Sammy asked about the odds of something happening and she said something about how Reid would be able to spout the statistic off the top of his head... He's the one that mentioned the probability of running into someone you know, right?"

"Yeah, that was Reid. He's our little genius," I confirmed.

---

"You have to give us something!"

"I don't have to give you shit!"

"Dammit, Lexi!" I shouted, sitting down on the couch with a huff.

Tensions had gotten high under the Morgan roof after Lexi's outburst during her interrogation with JJ. I tried to reason with her, tell her why it was so important we track down the brothers. She was having none of it.

"They're innocent, Morgan. All those things you have them down for, that wasn't them."

"Right, it was monsters that did those things," I said the word 'monsters' in the most mocking tone I could muster.

"Yes, it was monsters that did those things. It was a shapeshifter that used Dean's face in St. Louis. And it was Leviathans that used both their faces to go on that murder spree across the country."

"Uh huh, and it was a demon that killed your daughter."

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I was just so frustrated with the whole situation at work and I wasn't thinking. I could physically see the moment her heart shattered and she became even more of a broken shell of a person than she had been before. Her lip quivered and tears sprung to the corner of her eyes as she swallowed hard, drawing herself up to make herself seem taller than she was.

"Lexi, I---" I started, standing up from the couch.

"Don't," came her simple command, voice breaking.

I listened to her, stopping in my tracks. She stared at me with dull, shattered eyes brimming with tears for a moment, breathing shaky. And then she turned on her heel and headed up the stairs to her bedroom. The gentle click of her door was almost worse than when she had slammed it on her first evening in the house.