CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
TIME IS ON MY SIDE.

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THE DAWNING REALIZATION that there was just less than a month now until Dean was meant to die had rattled Birdie.

For months, she and the boys had searched and searched for any way out of Dean's deal, but there was nothing out there——no one knew anything and there wasn't anything in any kind of book about getting someone out of a crossroads deal. They were at a dead end once again in their search for Bela and the Colt as well, having hoped that the gun could possibly kill the demon who held Dean's contract. But in order for that to actually work, they needed to find the gun, and before the one year mark struck.

Birdie had called just about everyone she knew——which wasn't a lot but it didn't hurt to still try——but none of them knew anything; one of them didn't even know who she was and had no idea Serena Fowler was a mother. She brushed it off and dug back into the books, hoping and hoping she would catch something she missed the first time. It'd been a few days since then, and luckily the Winchesters had managed to find a demon; hopefully one that actually knew something useful since the demon who'd supposedly been helping them actually lied about being able to help Dean and said there was no way out of his deal, but that certainly wasn't going to stop them.

They had to save Dean——no matter what.

A loud scream rippled through the room, the demon's dark skin sizzling as holy water dripped down from his face. "Stop!"

"You ready to talk?" Dean demanded to know as the demon heavily panted through the intense pain, his head hung low. He was tied tight to a wooden chair, his wrists bound to the armrest and feet tied to the legs. A fireplace was a few feet behind him, the small flames flickering every few seconds as the smoke rolled out of the brick chimney. Some dusty and outdated furniture were placed off to the side as if the original owners of the crumbling cabin hadn't bothered to take them when they left. Birdie and the boys' supplies were tossed on a table near the window, a few of their weapons near the edge as a precaution. The cabin they were in wasn't the most homey or appealing to the eye, but it was just right for interrogating a demon.

The demon shouted, eyes clenched shut as the water continued to burn his skin. "I don't know," he managed to say, gritting his teeth together. "I don't know anything!"

Dean raised his brows, an amused smile appearing on his lips as he turned towards Sam. "Oh, you hear that? He doesn't know anything."

"Yeah, I heard," Sam said, smirking as he looked down at the demon. Birdie faintly shook her head, folding her arms over her chest. She was standing off to the side of Sam, her dark brown eyes pinned to the demon. They'd been at this for almost a half hour and all they'd received were "I don't know's" and "go to fucking Hell's" by the demon. But, Dean thought it was time to bring out the holy water to see if it might finally jog the demon's memories.

"I'm tellin' you the truth."

"Oh, you are? My god, then I owe you an apology. Allow me to make it up to you." Dean reached forward, grabbing hold of the demon's chin and forcing his mouth open to pour the holy water straight into his mouth. The demon yelled, his skin sizzling and smoke rising up. Birdie let out a tired sigh as the demon shouted and thrashed his head from side to side; it would've all been so much easier if he just cooperated, but that would've been too easy, right? "I'm gonna ask you one last fuckin' time——who holds my fucking contract?!"

The demon suddenly went quiet, head hanging low as the pain began to ease. Then he slowly looked back up at the hunters, eyes black as he started to wickedly grin.

Dean noticed the demon's expression, features faltering slightly before they hardened again. Birdie shifted next to Sam, her brows furrowed together. "Your mother," the demon smirked, eyes returning to normal as he loudly laughed. Birdie raised her brows, stealing a glance at the brothers to see their jaws clench. "Yeah, she, uh, showed it to me right before I bent her over."

Dean leaned in close, gruff hands placed on the armrest with eyes harshly pinned to the demon. "I want a fuckin' name, or else——"

"Or what?" the demon interrupted, humming with content. "You're gonna squirt your holy water in both ends? Please. Brother, that's like a fucking flea bite compared to what's coming to me if I tell you jack shit." Dean stood back up, glaring at the demon. "Do what you want. The only thing I'm scared of is the demon holdin' your ticket."

Dean stared at the demon for a few seconds as both Sam and Birdie silently looked over at him, facing the demon again after a few seconds. Dean rolled his eyes in frustration and silently turned towards Sam and Birdie to give them a look; the demon was no use to them. Sam nodded and clenched his jaw, facing the demon as he began to recite an exorcism from the book in his hands. Birdie pushed some hair out of her face, eyes flickering back towards Dean. Dean moved around the demon, seeing him start to grunt and twitch as Sam firmly spoke. "How does that feel? Does that feel good?" Dean demanded.

The demon let out a shout, craning his neck as he cracked it like the exorcism was no longer working on him. "Go ahead. Send me back to Hell. . ." the demon said, looking past Sam and Birdie so his eyes were focused on Dean, "'cause when you get there, I'll be fucking waiting for you. . .with a few pals who are dying for a nice little meet and greet with Dean Winchester."

Birdie gritted her teeth together as the demon laughed, narrowing her eyes. "Should I?" Sam softly asked, his question directed at Dean.

"Send him someplace he can't hurt anyone else."

Birdie watched and listened as Sam continued with the exorcism, a sinking feeling settling in her stomach as the demon howled in agony. The entire thing had been pointless, and there was only so much time left now until Dean's deal was up.

What were they going to do now?

"——chalk it up to lab error," Birdie heard Sam say, chuckling a few moments later as he spoke to someone on the phone. "Don't I know it. Okay. Thanks. Yeah, I'll tell the lieutenant." Sam looked up as Dean and Birdie entered the room, sweat glistening on their skin. Sam closed his phone, expectantly looking at the two of them. "Bury the body?"

Dean nodded and sighed. "Yeah. Poor schmuck. Looks like these fuckin' demons ride 'em hard just for kicks." Birdie tightened her bun, plopping down on one of the tattered chairs as Dean grabbed a beer and opened it, heading for the torn couch across from her. "What was the phone call about?"

"Remember that thing in the paper yesterday?" Sam wondered, gaze flickering between Dean and Birdie.

"Stripper suffocates dude with thighs?" Dean suggested, brows furrowed.

"The other thing," Sam said, a small smile of amusement on his lips. Birdie shook her head, gently rubbing at her wrist. It was getting better, but there was still some pain in it whenever she put too much strain on it.

"Right, the guy that walks into the E.R. and kneels over dead. His stomach ripped out?" Dean said.

"His liver, actually," Sam corrected, now standing by the fireplace that was still going, his hand placed on the dusty mantle. "Anyways, I just found out something pretty damn interesting."

"And what might that be?" Birdie wondered, leaning back in the chair.

"The dead body covered in bloody fingerprints——not the victim's."

Dean paused, swallowing a sip of his beer. "Okay, great. My man Dave Caruso will be stoked to hear it."

Sam faintly smiled. "Those fingerprints match a guy who died in 1981."

"Really?" Dean asked with his brows raised as he scooted towards the edge of the couch. Birdie knitted her brows together in thought. How was that even possible? "So, what are we talkin'? Uh, walking dead? Walking, killing dead?"

"Maybe," Sam shrugged.

"You're serious? An actual zombie?" Birdie asked, raising her brows. Sam nodded, causing Birdie to frown. She could deal with demons and werewolves even though they were her least favorite monsters, but zombies? Just the mere thought of the flesh eating creatures had her shuddering and grimacing.

"Zombies do like the other, other white meat," Dean said, taking another sip with a quiet hum. "Speaking of——what do you care about zombies?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, giving Dean a confused look.

"Well, you and Bird've been on soul-saving detail for months now," Dean said. "And we're three weeks out, and all of a sudden, you're interested in some hot zombie action?"

"Hey, man, you're the one who's been all gung-ho to hunt," Sam reminded his big brother. "I-I just thought I'd be doing you a favor."

"Hey, no, no, no, no, no," Dean quickly interjected, standing up as he shook his head. Birdie crossed one of her legs over the other, eyes glancing back and forth between the brothers. "I didn't say I didn't want to do it, okay. I mean, obviously, I wanna hunt some zombies."

"Okay, fine, whatever," Sam breathed out, looking at Dean.

Dean partially nodded and headed towards his bag. Sam faintly smiled, catching Birdie's eye. Birdie tilted her head in thought, giving Sam a rather unpleasant look. "What?" he asked, noticing the expression on her face.

"I just had to dig a six foot hole——with Dean——I'm tired, hungry, and now I gotta drive who knows how far away now?" she huffed, tossing her hand out for emphasis.

Sam chuckled, playfully rolling his eyes. "If you wanna sit this one out, maybe you can help Bobby. Find something that might help Dean."

"After what happened the last time I was with him, I don't think he'd like that very much," Birdie said, breathing out a laugh as she stood up.

"What happened last time?" Sam wondered.

"Uh, I. . .he might've spent just a little too much money at the store because I snuck a few things in. . ."

"Of course you did," Sam laughed, shaking his head. Birdie innocently shrugged, rubbing her wrist slightly. Sam noticed the movement, his eyes meeting hers when she felt his stare. "How's your wrist doin'?"

"It's been better," Birdie said, giving him a small smile. "But, I'll be fine."

"You sure you can take on a zombie with it?"

"I could take you on right now with no problem," Birdie proudly smirked.

Sam just raised his brows. "Oh, I'm sure," he sarcastically replied, moving towards his duffle bag.

"Hey, I fuckin' could," Birdie huffed, following him over to the table with a firm expression on her features. "You know, but not right now because we have a zombie to find apparently."

"Sure, Bird," Sam snickered, slinging his back over his shoulder just as he heard the Impala roar to life. Birdie grabbed hers as well, scrunching up her face when she bent her wrist in an awkward angle. Sam shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes. He reached over, giving her a pointed look as he held his hand out to her. Birdie gave him a faint smile, dropping the strap into his hand for him to carry her bag.

"Thanks, Sammy."

"Hey, Bird," Sam said as she started to walk towards the door, his voice causing the woman to pause.

"Yeah?"

"If I tell you something, can you promise not to tell Dean?"

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"I told the cops all of this yesterday. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"It'll only be a few questions, sir," Birdie softly said, giving the man a small smile as she adjusted her grip on the pen in her hand, the other one holding a small notepad. Sam and Dean were down at the coroner's office to check out the body of the man whose kidney had been stolen, leaving Birdie to speak to the most recent victim——a man whose kidney had been taken but thankfully hadn't died. Dean had offered to join Birdie, but she assured him she could handle it on her own. However, she was beginning to wish she'd had one of the boys take her place instead as the man continued to give her an unnecessary amount of attitude.

"Hey, lady. I just got my kidney stolen," the man, Rodney Sires said, exhausted as he looked up at Birdie. He had short black hair that was flat on his head, dark bags under his eyes. He wore a pale, teal hospital gown, his room brighter than any hospital room Birdie had been inside. "I'm tired."

"I know, Mr. Sires," Birdie softly said, nodding in understanding. "But, this might help us catch whoever did this to you."

"Will it get me back my kidney?" Rodney wondered.

Rather than answering his question, Birdie moved on with her questions. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Feeding my meter," he answered, annoyance laced in his voice. He rolled his eyes, letting out a huff as he recalled the attack. "I got jumped from behind. . .and then I woke up strapped to a table. And then the worst pain you could possibly imagine, only worse." he said, raising his brows slightly. Birdie twisted her lips, pretending to jot some of the details down. "And then I black out again——thank God. And then I wake up screaming in some no-tell motel in a bathtub full of ice."

"Do you remember anything about the surgery by chance——maybe what the guy looked like, details about the room?" Birdie asked, seeing Rodney roll his eyes again; he was very much over answering questions, but if Birdie wanted to save some more lives, then she needed as much information as he could give her.

"Let me think about that," Rodney said, and Birdie let out a small sigh, already knowing she wasn't about to get a helpful answer. "Yeah. . .one thing is coming back to me. You know what I remember? Getting my kidney cut out of my fuckin' body!"

Birdie pursed her lips together, faintly nodding as she closed her notepad. Then she gave the man a forced smile, tightly gripping the notepad. "Thank you, sir, you've been a huge help."

Birdie quickly left the room, puffing out her cheeks as she started to make her way down the narrow hall. Her eyes roamed the nurse's station, looking for someone who could've helped give her some more information on Rodney's condition. It didn't take very long, spotting a doctor heading down the hall she'd just come from. Thankfully, it happened to be Rodney's doctor and, after flashing her badge, opened up about the man's condition; which wasn't much help, but he had given her more information than Rodney had. After that, Birdie headed out of the hospital and called Sam, letting him and Dean know what she found, and also how vocal the victim was when they asked how he was doing.

It didn't take her too long to meet them back at the motel, The Erie, where they'd gotten a room for them to share. She'd even picked them up some lunch on her way after Dean not so subtly mentioned it during the phone call, apparently making Dean's entire day when he saw her carry in the bags of fast food. Then she unpacked it all and handed the boys their food before sinking into the seat in between them. Sam gave her a smile as she handed him his, stealing a glance at his computer that he still had opened up. Dean beamed as she slid him his food next, pulling it directly in front of him to eagerly dive in.

"So, I got a theory," Sam said.

Birdie bit into a fry, glancing aside at Sam while Dean picked up his burger after he unwrapped the packaging. "Yeah?" Dean asked, taking his first bite.

"Bird, you talked Mr. Giggle's doctor, right?" Sam asked and Birdie nodded, leaning back in her chair. "And he said the vic's incisions were sewn up with silk?"

"Yeah," she said, picking a few more fries.

"That's weird," Dean said around his bite.

"Yeah, nowadays it is, but silk used to be the suture of choice back in the early 19th century," Sam said, turning around his laptop for Dean and Birdie to see what he'd found; it was a website that had information about suturing back in the 1800's and 1900's with some autonomy drawings of muscles, bones, and every other feature possible. Dean reached forward with one hand, scrolling down and clicking on one of the pictures. Birdie shifted in her seat, eyes squinted as she looked close. She raised her brow as she reached forward, unwrapping her chicken sandwich while her eyes skimmed over some of the words. "It was really problematic. Patients would get massive infections. The death rate was insane."

"Good times," Dean said, eyes raking over the images. Birdie furrowed her brows, taking a bite of her chicken sandwich. There were dozens of diagrams and drawings, most of them explaining body parts and the different procedures and methods that were used to treat wounds and such.

"Right, so doctors, they had to do whatever they could to keep infections from spreading," Sam explained. "One way was maggots."

"Dude, I'm eating," Dean said.

Birdie scrunched up her nose in disgust, quickly swallowing her bite of her sandwich. "That's fuckin' disgusting, Sam," she said, giving Sam a pleading look. "Can you at least wait till we're done?"

"No but see it actually kind of worked because maggots——they eat bad tissue, and they leave good tissue," Sam continued, sounding rather excited. Birdie closed her eyes, looking down. Now, she could see a lot of disgusting things and not be very fazed by it if at all, but. . .bugs, and of course, zombies, were something she didn't care to see or hear about——especially when she was trying to eat. "And get this——when they found our guy, his body cavity was stuffed full of maggots."

"Dude, I'm fucking eating!" Dean firmly said, giving Sam a sharp glare. Birdie shook her head, giving him one as well as she lifted her head and picked up her lemonade. "Alright, let me get this straight," Dean said, taking a sip of his soda. "So, people are getting ganked, right?"

"Yeah," Sam said with a nod.

"A little Antiques Roadshow surgery, some organ theft. But why is this all sounding familiar?"

"It does?" Birdie asked, confusion on her features as she glanced between the Winchesters, taking another bite of her sandwich; if she were lucky, she'd be able to finish her meal before Sam started talking about maggots again.

"Because you heard it before, well, you and me," Sam answered, looking at Dean. He glanced over at Birdie, seeing her look even more confused before he looked at Dean again. "When we were kids. . .from Dad." Sam grabbed John's journal that was off to his side, opening it up and placing it on top of his laptop as he closed it. Dean picked it up and Birdie curiously leaned over, munching on some fries as she glanced over John's sloppy writing. "Doc Benton——real-life doctor, lived in New Hampshire, brilliant and obsessed with alchemy, especially how to live forever. So, in 1816, Doc abandoned his practice and. . ."

"Right, yeah, nobody hears from him for like 20 years, and all of sudden, people start showing up dead," Dean said, remembering more about the doctor as memories of John telling the boys the case started to play inside his head.

"Dead or-or missing an organ or a hand or some other kind of part."

"'Cause whatever he was doing was actually working. He just kept on ticking. Parts would wear out, he'd replace them," Dean said, picking up a few fries from Birdie's container when the woman looked down at John's journal. "But I thought Dad hunted him down and took his heart out."

"Yeah, I guess the Doc must have plugged in a new one," Sam said, shrugging as he spoke.

"All right, where's he doing the deed?" Dean asked.

"According to this, Benton's picky about where he sets up his lab," Sam said. "He likes dense forests with access to a river or stream or some kind of freshwater."

Birdie shook her head, taking another bite of her sandwich, placing her elbows on the table. "Why?" Dean wondered, one of his cheeks puffed out as he chewed on his burger.

"Because that's where he likes to dump the bile and intestines and fecal matter," Sam answered, a small smile on his lips as he breathed out a laugh. Dean looked disgusted, gagging slightly. Birdie grimaced and shuddered, closing her eyes as she turned her head away like she was trying to force the words out of her head. "Lose your appetite yet?"

Dean stole a look and then peered down at his half-eaten burger. "Oh baby, I can't stay mad at you," he said, taking a huge bite as Sam shook his head, a smile still on his lips.

"Nope, I'm-I'm done," Birdie said, quickly standing up and heading straight for the bathroom.

Sam raised his brows in surprise, both him and Dean silently watching the woman hurry across the room. "Wait, you're not really——"

Birdie slammed the door shut, Sam and Dean's faces falling as they heard what sounded like the woman vomiting. Dean slowly turned his head, giving Sam a look. "Smooth move, Romeo."

"Shut up," Sam rolled his eyes, finally starting to dive into his own lunch.

"You really know how to woo the ladies, Sammy," Dean teased, smirking as he sipped on his soda.

"I'm not trying to woo anyone," Sam said with a huff.

Dean just smirked, head tilted to one side. "Sure you aren't."

"I'm not."

"Sam, I see the way you look at her," Dean softly said, giving his little brother a pointed look. "And I sure as hell see the way she looks at you."

"We're just friends, Dean," Sam said, dismissing the mere idea that he and Birdie liked each other in a more than friendly manner.

Dean wiped at his mouth with a napkin, faintly shaking his head. "You know who else said that?" he asked.

"Who?"

"Fred and Daphne."

Sam scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes before giving Dean a pointed look. "That's a cartoon, Dean. This isn't like that."

"Really? So, you two don't look at each other the same way those two do right before they kiss at the end of M——"

"No, we don't."

"Fine, I'll just ask Birdie and——"

"Dean, don't!"

Dean raised his brows as he gave Sam another glare, causing him to huff in annoyance. "That's not——it's not like that, alright?"

"You're really tellin' me that——"

"Samuel. . .Winchester." Sam's eyes slightly widened, slowly turning his head towards the bathroom door. Birdie opened it, eyes directly pinned on him. Dean blinked and glanced between Sam and Birdie. Birdie's eyes were burning into Sam, brows furrowed together and eyes narrowed into tiny slits with her lips were pursed into a fine line. She stepped out of the bathroom, dropping her hands down at her sides while her eyes stayed glued to Sam. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill you."

"Oh, come on, Birdie," Dean started, chuckling as she walked back over to the table. A scent of mint followed her, making the boys wonder if she'd brushed her teeth while she was in there. "There's no way that that——"

"Do you wanna be next?" Birdie sharply asked, pointing her finger at Dean. She sank into her chair, keeping her finger aimed at Dean.

Dean chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. "Technically I'm first."

Both Sam and Birdie huffed, giving him similar glares. "Birdie, I'm-I'm sorry," Sam said, deciding to disregard Dean's comment. "Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

"I'm sure there's plenty of ways," Dean muttered under his breath, snickering to himself. Birdie faintly smiled, her smile widening as Dean suddenly groaned, rubbing at his shin where something had harshly hit him. His eyes immediately swiveled over to Birdie as she just continued to smile and ignore his glare, instead focusing her gaze on Sam.

Birdie let out a small sigh, picking up a fry. "I'll get back to you on that."

A few hours later and Sam, Dean, and Birdie were leaning over a map that was splayed out on one the beds, three different areas circle in red marker. There were four other maps on the bed, some partially unfolded and pushed to the side so they were out of the way. Five large, red circles were drawn near secluded areas with access to fresh water on the map in front of them, all possible locations for where Doc Benton was.

Sam sighed, pointing at one of the circled areas. "So these are all the cabins. Most of them have been abandoned for years."

"So what the hell are we waiting for?" Dean questioned, turning to look at Sam and then Birdie.

Moments later, Dean's phone began to ring on the table off to the side. He glanced over at the sound, standing up straight to pick it up. He checked the name that appeared, looking towards Sam and Birdie as he flipped it open. "Bobby."

Birdie shifted, casting a glance aside at Sam. He faintly shook his head, almost like he was answering Birdie's unspoken question; he didn't know why Bobby might've been calling, but hopefully it was something that could help Dean.

Sam shifted as Dean and Bobby took turns speaking, stealing another look at the maps as Birdie sank down on the opposite bed, trying to listen to what Bobby was saying over the phone.

"And he thinks it's Bela?" At the sound of Bela's name, both Sam and Birdie's eyes snapped towards Dean.

"She's used that before," Dean said, furrowing his brows in thought. "Well, that's kind of of a sloppy move, isn't it——getting in contact with one of your old friends?" Birdie stole another look at Sam, but his eyes were focused on Dean. "Thanks, Bobby. We're on our way," Dean said, starting to turn towards Sam and Birdie until Bobby's voice stopped him. Birdie didn't catch what was said, causing her to huff in annoyance. "Okay." Dean said, hanging up. Then he faced Sam and Birdie again, walking towards his bag. "Come on. We're going after Bela."

"What?" Sam asked in surprise, watching Dean start to pack up his things. Birdie's lips parted, her eyes flickering towards Sam; this wasn't part of his plan to travel to Eerie, Pennsylvania. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a second."

"Come on. Get your stuff," Dean said, slipping on his jacket. "The clock's ticking."

"Look, I-I think we should stay here and finish the case," Sam said.

Dean wheezed out a laugh, continuing to shrug on his jacket. "You insane?"

"Dean, there's no way she still has the Colt. That was months ago. She probably sold it the second she got it."

"Well, then I'll kill her. Win-win."

"Dean. . ."

"Sam, we're going," Dean firmly said, grabbing his back as he glanced towards Birdie like he was going to ask her something, but Sam cut him off.

"No," Sam firmly said.

"Why the hell not?" Dean demanded to know.

"Dean, this——this here, now——this is what's gonna save you."

"What? Chasing some Frankenstein?" Dean chuckled, throwing his arm out.

"Chasing immortality." Dean blinked, brows furrowing together. Birdie let out a quiet sigh, leaning forward to rest her elbow on her knee, chin pressed on her palm. "Look, Benton can't die. We find out how he did it, we can do it to you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You have to die before you go to Hell, right?" Sam said. "So, if you can never die——"

"Wait, wait, wait. Wait a second," Dean interjected, taking a few steps closer to Sam. "Did-did you know that this was Doc Benton from the jump?"

"No." Dean tilted his head; he didn't believe that. Sam licked at his lips, letting out a sigh. "Look, I was hoping——"

"So the whole fuckin' zombie thing, it was lying to me? And Birdie?" Dean stole a look at Birdie, her eyes involuntarily looking away as soon as their eyes locked. Dean shifted, face falling slightly. "Wait, did you already know——"

"No, she didn't——"

"Yes I did," Birdie answered, ignoring the glare Sam sent her. Birdie was hoping it wouldn't come to Dean finding out like this, but she wasn't going to let Sam cover for her; Dean was going to find the truth out anyways and it would've been better to own up to it now.

Dean scoffed in disbelief. "Oh, so now you're both lying to me?"

"Dean, I'm sorry," Birdie sincerely apologized, standing up from the bed to stand next to Sam. Sam softly sighed, briefly glancing towards the floor. "But maybe there's something here that can help."

"I-we didn't wanna say anything until we were sure, Dean," Sam said. "All we're trying to do is find an answer here."

"No, all you two're trying to do is chase Slicy McHackey here," Dean snapped, anger swirling in his eyes. "And to kill him? No. You wanna buy him a fucking beer. You wanna study him."

"We were just trying to help."

"You're not helping! You two forget that if I welch on this deal, you die," Dean said, motioning towards Sam. "Guess what——living forever is fucki mg welching."

"Fine, then, whatever the magic pill is, I'll take it too!" Birdie shook her head at their fighting, running a hand along the side of her face as she moved to sit on one of the beds again. Despite witnessing many of their fights as well as being involved in a handful of them, she never liked being around for them.

"Oh, what is this, Sid and Nancy?" Dean scoffed, moving back towards the table. "No. It's just like Bobby's been saying. We kill the demon who owns the contract and this whole fucking thing wipes clean. That's our best shot."

"Even if you had the Colt, Dean, who are you gonna shoot?" Sam firmly demanded to know, forcing out a quiet laugh in disbelief. "We have no fucking idea who holds the ticket."

"Well, I'll shoot the fuckin' hellhounds then before they slash me up. Now, you comin' or not?" Dean sharply asked.

"I'm stayin' here," Sam answered.

"No, you're not. . ." Dean walked closer to Sam, a stern expression on his face, "'Cause I'm not gonna let you two wander out in the woods to track some fuckin' organ stealing freak."

"You're not gonna let us?" Sam repeated, unable to refrain from letting out a faint laugh.

"No, I'm not gonna let you."

"How are you gonna stop us?" Sam asked, hands placed on his hips. Birdie raised her brows, stealing a glance towards Dean to see him appear surprised by Sam's response. "Look, man, we're trying to do the same thing here."

"I know," Dean said after a few seconds, moving back towards his bag, clicking his tongue against his teeth. "But I'm going." Sam silently nodded and Birdie deeply frowned, her dark eyes pinned to Dean. "So if you two wanna stay. . .stay."

Dean watched Sam for a few seconds, but Sam didn't meet his gaze. His eyes then flickered over to Birdie, catching the woman's eye. She wanted to say something——anything——but she wasn't sure what. She truly wanted to try and find Bela to get the Colt back——if she even still had it, that is——with Dean, but she also wanted to stay with Sam to find out more about Doc Benton as well as stop him from harming anyone else.

Dean silently nodded and then shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. Birdie's eyes followed him, feeling a slight pang in her heart as he walked away. He took a step out of the door, looking back at Sam and Birdie. "Sammy, Bird, be careful."

Sam finally turned to face Dean, meeting Dean's gaze. "You too," he quietly said.

"Dean," Birdie said, causing him to look at her, "if you find Bela, give her hell."

Dean gave her a faint smile in response, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Sam let out a heavy sigh, turning to look at Birdie. She looked over at him when she felt his eyes on her, giving him a tiny smile. "Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Sam asked, sinking down on the bed across from her. "I-I still wanna stop Benton, but if we can just talk to him or-or something. . .maybe he knows how we can save Dean."

"All that matters now is saving Dean," Birdie said. "But we need to find Benton and see if he has a way, and then——"

"Then we stop him from hurting anyone else," Sam said, nodding his head as he knew what Birdie was going to say next.

Birdie gave him another smile, nodding as well.

And, with that and the hope of finding a way to save Dean, they stood up and began to pack up the maps and some supplies, shoving them all into Sam's duffel bag so they could start searching the cabins before they lost any more daylight; it was time to track down Doc Benton.

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They'd checked three cabins so far and there was nothing. They were all completely empty and full of years worth of dust, some tattered furniture left behind by those who'd stayed there last. It had taken a few hours to check each of the cabins, and Birdie was hoping that the fourth one would be the one they were looking for.

Sam pulled over in a clearing of the woods, turning off the ignition with a sigh. Birdie glanced around the area, thankful the sun was still out and made it harder for anything to hide within the trees and shrubbery. They were a couple miles away from the last two cabins, wanting to make sure that Doc Benton wouldn't see them coming by parking too close or near any roads. Birdie quietly sighed and turned towards Sam. He was looking down at the map, planning out their route to the cabin from where they were parked. Then he looked over at Birdie, offering her a faint smile. "I think this is it," he said.

"I think so, too," Birdie said, returning the smile.

They climbed out of the car and Sam stuffed the map in his jacket pocket, pausing near the hood as Birdie rounded the car. She tucked her hands in the pockets of her jacket, eyes skimming the vast trees and bushes to make sure there wasn't anything odd watching them. She silently walked beside Sam as he led the way, listening to the leaves and twigs crunch beneath their boot clad feet.

"You think he'll find her?" Birdie turned her head when Sam spoke a few minutes later. He stepped over a fallen branch, looking towards Birdie as she did the same. "Bela?"

Birdie let out a sigh, partially shaking her head. "After everything we've done to find her, I don't think she'll get away this time."

"Do you think she still has the Colt by chance?" Birdie's expression gave Sam his answer. He sighed, sadly smiling as his gaze shifted to the ground beneath their feet. "Yeah, I don't think so either."

"But I hope she does," Birdie said, adjusting her ponytail that was keeping half of her hair up and out of her face. "And for her sake, she better pray she does."

"Yeah, no kiddin'," Sam softly chuckled.

Birdie faintly smiled, stealing another glance around the tall and lanky trees that completely surrounded them. The scenery hadn't changed much as they got closer to one of the cabins, only finding more and more trees had seemed to grow bunched up, making it harder to see through all of the trees and bushes; just the way Doc Benton wanted. But, as they finally came upon the fourth cabin, they came to realize it wasn't the right place.

"Motherfucker," Sam huffed, rubbing his hand along his jaw as he and Birdie finished searching the fourth cabin. It looked cleaner than the last three, but it was completely empty.

Birdie twisted her lips, trailing behind Sam as they exited the cabin. "The last one has to be it," she said. Sam stepped down the front porch and pulled out the map, hearing Birdie walk in front of him. "There aren't any other secluded places nearby?"

"Not ones that'll work for him," Sam answered, eyes raking over the map. The last cabin was nearly three miles away. He quietly sighed, folding it back up as he looked at Birdie. "Last one's three miles away and we don't have much daylight left."

"Then what're we waiting for?" Birdie shrugged, giving him a small smile. "Lead the way, Samuel."

By the time they reached the last cabin, the sun had settled beyond the horizon. Crickets were beginning to chirp within the tall grass as night fell upon them, lightning bugs weaving around trees and flashing every few seconds. They couldn't see any lights on inside the cabin through the partially covered windows, hopefully meaning that Doc Benton wasn't there at the moment.

Sam quietly led the way, him and Birdie suspiciously looking around to make sure Benton, or anyone for that matter, wasn't around to see them sneak inside. Birdie reached into her pocket as they stepped up the front porch, grabbing her flashlight as Sam turned the door handle. He huffed when he found it was locked. Birdie stepped up beside and watched him dig around in his pocket, pulling out his lockpick set.

Birdie quickly turned on her flashlight and aimed it at the door, causing Sam to give her a tiny smile. "Thanks," he said.

"Anytime, Sammy," Birdie said.

Sam got to work picking the lot, letting out a quiet breath as it opened a few moments later. He stood up and pulled out his own flashlight, curiously looking around the inside before he stepped in. Birdie followed and quietly shut the door behind her, narrowing her eyes in the darkness.

The only light inside came from their flashlights, picking up specs of dust and dead bugs throughout the cabin. Birdie grimaced and looked aside to see a tattered leather couch facing a warped, wooden coffee table. Multiple pictures were hung on the walls, dozens of books and pieces of cloth placed on top of them. Sam was on the other side of the room, opening up a box that was placed on a round table. Sadly, there was nothing inside it. Birdie turned her head and moved forward, eyes skimming over some books that were stacked on the end table by the couch. Sam found a red leather journal on the desk by the window, stuffing it in the inside pocket of his jacket; maybe it would be of some use to them.

Birdie started to turn, but she stopped and spun back around when something on the ground caught her eye. She tilted her head, bending down as she noticed what looked like a hook screwed into one of the floorboards. "Sam?" Birdie called out, hearing some papers scuffling together right before she saw him walk around the couch. "Come look at this."

Sam frowned in confusion and crouched down beside her. He adjusted his grip on his flashlight and pulled on the hook after sharing a silent look with Birdie, their eyes widening when it revealed a set of stairs. "Creepy ass basement, check," he said, looking at Birdie.

Birdie scrunched up her nose, shaking her head slightly. "Basements are never a good sign."

"You'll be fine," Sam told her, moving his legs to start walking down. "I'll be right here."

Birdie playfully rolled her eyes and trailed after the older boy, closing the hatch behind her; she wasn't sure when Benton would return, but she didn't want it to be obvious that they were there if he returned before they could leave.

The stairs creaked as the two hunters cautiously walked down, Sam pausing to glance around with his flashlight to make sure that Doc Benton wasn't down there and waiting for them. Then he carefully stepped down the last few steps, leading the way for him and Birdie.

On the far side of the room, a body was lying on the operating table with a white cloth draped over his lower half. There was an endless supply of medical equipment spread throughout the basement, bottles full of liquids Birdie didn't even want to get close enough to to find out what was stored inside. But, her eyes darted back to the unmoving body.

Sam let out a shaky breath, creeping closer to the body with Birdie right behind him. Birdie came up to the other side of the table, frowning as she looked up at Sam as he placed his fingers on the man's neck to check for a pulse. Sam lifted his head after a few seconds, meeting Birdie's gaze as he shook his head as a silent way to tell her he was dead. Birdie deeply frowned, letting out a heavy sigh. Then she turned away and walked past the steps, shining her flashlight around the rest of the grimy basement.

Dusty tables were pressed against the walls, more medical equipment placed on top; some of which still had blood on them like Benton hadn't bothered to clean them after he was finished. Large spider webs had taken over most of the corners in the ceiling, a few crawling along the walls. Diagrams of the human body and handwritten notes were taped to the walls, a few discarded on the ground with dirt and dust covering them.

A faint noise caught their attention a couple of minutes later, causing them to simultaneously look towards the ragged curtains that were hung a few feet behind them. Through a small opening, they saw another body laid on a table similar to the one near the steps. Birdie and Sam shared a silent look with one another, beginning to creep closer. Sam lifted his hand and separated two of the curtains to walk past, seeing that it was a woman with long, dark hair, strapped to the table. Her right arm was splayed out beside her, part of her wrist bloody and covered in maggots where some skin was missing.

Birdie scrunched up her nose, twisting her lips as her eyes glanced towards the woman's face. "Is she——"

The woman suddenly gasped before Birdie was able to finish her question, startling both Sam and Birdie.

Birdie nearly dropped her flashlight as she jumped in surprise, eyes growing wide with alert. Sam quickly bent down, reaching out to the woman. "Shh! Shh! Shh!" he shushed her. "It's okay. We're here to help you. We're here to help you." He looked aside, shaking out a rag he found on the tray table behind as the woman whimpered in pain. Birdie quickly undid the other straps as Sam gently lifted the womans right arm, carefully beginning to wrap the rag around her wrist. The woman whimpered, clenching her eyes shut as the slightest touch set her wrist on fire. Sam comfortingly shushed her again, trying to move fast but also careful as he didn't want to hurt her anymore than she already was. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Birdie went to move and lead the way out of the cabin, but she froze when they heard a door open upstairs. Sam quickly shushed the woman again when she whimpered in fear, placing his hand over the woman's mouth to prevent Doc Benton from hearing her. The woman softly whimpered again, lifting her head as they heard the footsteps creep closer. Birdie's eyes darted to Sam before she glanced around the basement, trying to find another way out.

She spotted a window off to the side, looking towards Sam. He noticed as well, silently nodding his head. Birdie hastily stuffed her flashlight in her jacket and hurried over to the window. She climbed onto the table directly below it, gritting her teeth together as she pulled the board in front of it off. She winced when it made a creaking sound, peering over her shoulder at Sam. "You first," he whispered, giving her an encouraging nod. "Then you grab her."

Birdie nodded and grabbed the side of the window, hissing as some broken glass dug into her hand. She ignored it and pulled herself out of the window, spinning around to grab the woman. She whimpered at the movement and Birdie frowned, carefully looping her arms under the woman's. "It's okay," Birdie softly whispered, carefully pulling the woman out of the window. "I got ya, I got ya."

Sam climbed out next, picking the woman back up after Birdie helped her onto her feet. He adjusted her in his arms, apologizing when the woman hissed in agony. "Bird, keys," Sam said, turning to her somewhat so she could reach into his pocket.

She nodded and reached her hand into one of his back pockets, frowning when she didn't feel the keys. Sam huffed, tilting his head at her. "Front pocket, left side," he said.

"Oh," Birdie said, face flushing in embarrassment. "I, uh, I wasn't——"

"It-it's fine," Sam said. "Let's just go."

"Right, yeah," Birdie nodded in agreement, quickly rushing off in the direction of the car.

Birdie quickly pressed the unlock on the keys as the car finally came into view, stepping to the side as Sam hurried around the front with the woman tightly clutched in his arms. Birdie's eyes raked over the dark woods, looking for any sign of Doc Benton while Sam gently placed the woman in the passenger seat. "Okay, watch your head, watch your head. Sorry," he said.

Birdie opened the driver's seat door, helping the woman sit up straight when she fell to the side. Sam rounded the car to climb inside, but he was roughly grabbed, his body being harshly slammed into the hood of the car. "Shit," Birdie whispered. She hastily climbed out to help Sam, grabbing Doc Benton by the back of his jacket and yanked him backwards, forcefully kicking him to the ground.
"Go, go!" Sam frantically shouted, nudging Birdie towards the car. She climbed into the backseat this time as Sam got in the driver's seat, sliding into the middle seat so she could see out of the windshield. Sam changed gears and floored it just as Benton lifted his head, seeing only the headlights before Sam drove straight over him.

Birdie jolted in the backseat, tilting her head at Sam as he sped away, leaving Benton lying in the road as they headed straight for the hospital.

Maybe there was a chance that that killed him, right?

Almost two hours had passed since they dropped the woman off at the closest hospital. She'd been rushed away on a gurney, one of the nurses telling Sam and Birdie to take a seat so they could ask them what happened after they checked out the woman's wounds. But, the minute the nurse disappeared down the hall they were hurrying out of the hospital and headed back to the motel. Sam had handed the journal he found to Birdie to look over on the way to try and see if it was any help, and much to her and Sam's surprise, it was Doc Bentons journal——which explained in great detail how he was still alive. But, much of it didn't make sense to Sam or Birdie, but Sam decided to continue going through it to see if he could figure more of it out as Birdie got them some food.

They'd yet to hear from Dean aside from a text that Birdie had gotten from him that simply said where he'd gone when she asked where he was headed. Birdie didn't think much else of it after what had happened before he left and decided to let him contact her next. But, as she was walking from the grocery store a block away, she received a call from Bobby; hopefully it meant he'd heard from Dean about dealing with Bela, or even that he'd finally found something to help Dean.

Birdie adjusted her grip on her phone, tightening her grasp on the plastic bag as she walked back towards the motel. "Hey, Bobby," she greeted him. "Have you heard from Dean yet?"

"Yeah," Bobby answered.

"Okay. . .and?"

"And what do you think?" Bobby replied. Birdie heavily sighed, figuring that meant he hadn't found Bela nor the Colt. "He found Bela, but she didn't have the Colt——sold it as soon as she had it."

"Of course she did, fuckin' bitch," Birdie said, grumbling the last part.

Bobby softly chuckled, having overheard her. "How 'bout you and Sam? You find that Doc Benton?"

"Yeah, we did," Birdie answered. She tucked the phone between her ear and her shoulder, bending down to pick up a carton of cigarettes to throw them in the trash can that was not even less than an inch away. Then she wiped her hand on her pants, taking hold of her phone as she started walking once again. "He had some woman there and we took her to the hospital. But, he found us after we got back to the car."

"What'd you do?"

"Uh, Sam ran him over."

"So, he's not dead?"

Birdie softly sighed, rounding a corner as she started to make her way towards the entrance of the hotel. "Look, Sam took his journal while we were there, and if we can figure out what it all means——"

Birdie's voice abruptly stopped, the sound of clattering coming from her end of the phone like something fell. "Birdie? Bird, you there?" Bobby asked, panic striking his heart as if he already knew something was wrong. "Birdie!"

Birdie grunted as she tried to pry the hand away from her face that had a white cloth firmly pressed over her nose and mouth, but her eyes slowly fluttered shut as she breathed in the chloroform, slowly going limp in the person's arms.

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Birdie hatefully narrowed her eyes, watching Doc Benton move to stand beside the table that Sam was tightly strapped on. She was strapped down on a similar one, but she was able to move her head from side to side unlike Sam who also had his eyes forced open as much as possible by some narrow pieces of tape.

"Hey, you can relax." Birdie's eyes flickered to Sam as she turned her head, seeing that he was now awake. "It's all gonna be okay," Benton said, patting Sam's arm like it was meant to be comforting. "Ain't nothin' gonna happen here that you got to worry about, Sammy. Your chances of coming out of this procedure alive——very, very high."

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh. . .I know. You think I'm some kind of monster, don't you? Well, I got to tell you, I have never done one thing that I did not have to do. This whole eternal-life thing is very high-maintenance," Benton said, peering down at Sam as he held something in his hand that looked like an ice cream scooper. "If something goes bad——like my eyes here——you got to replace them." Benton ran his fingers by Sam's eyes, making Sam grunt as he pulled against the restraints. Birdie sucked in a sharp breath, pulling her wrists against the tight straps. "And sometimes things get damaged, like when your father cut out my heart. Now, that. . .that was very inconvenient. So, I'm sure that you can understand all the joy I felt when I read all about myself here in his journal," Benton said, glancing over one of the pages in John Winchester's journal that was written about Benton before he abruptly closed it, setting it back on the table behind him. Then he turned towards Sam again, leaning down close. "Kind of makes this whole thing just feel like some kind of family reunion, don't it?" he chuckled, but neither Sam nor Birdie laughed along with him. "Well, I guess it's about time that we get this thing started."

Birdie grunted, teeth clenched around the cloth that Benton had tied around her mouth when she mouthed off to him after she woke up. "Birdie?" Sam asked, having heard the sound; somehow he knew it was her without seeing for himself.

"Oh, yeah, your girlfriend's here, too," Benton said, locking eyes with Birdie. "I grabbed her before I got you. But, sadly, what I'm gonna have to take from her——she won't survive the procedure."

"You motherf——" Doc Benton brought the scoop very close to Sam's eye before he could finish his sentence, Sam beginning to shout as he felt it begin to poke into his eye. Three shots rang out before Benton could go any further, causing Birdie to flinch at the sudden sound.

Doc Benton stopped and stood up straight, slowly turning around to see Dean Winchester aiming his signature gun at him. "Shoot all you want."

Doc Benton slowly approached Dean and Dean then shot Benton two more times, but the man didn't deter as the bullets pierced through his body. Then Benton grabbed hold of Dean, shoving him into a table behind him. Some glass tubes shattered as Dean fell to the floor, heavily panting from the force. Benton moved closer to Dean just a few seconds later, bending down and grabbing the collar of Dean's jacket. Dean quickly plunged a shiny knife into Doc Benton's chest, grunting as he shoved it straight into his heart.

Doc Benton couldn't help but laugh, taking Dean's hand and shoving it away from the knife. "A knife? What part of immortality do you not understand?" he asked, standing back up. "Pity about the heart, though. It was a brand-new one."

"Good. It should be pumping nice and strong. . ." Dean said, holding up a bottle of chloroform for Benton to see, "Sending this stuff throughout your whole body. See, I picked up your little bottle upstairs and dipped the knife in it."

Doc Benton groaned, already beginning to feel the effects of the chloroform. He collapsed to the floor after a few seconds, bumping his head on a table as he fell onto his back.

"Dean?" Sam called out.

Dean groaned and got to his feet, letting out a huff as he hurried over to his little brother. He quickly untied Sam before making his way over to Birdie. He pulled the cloth from her mouth and Birdie let out a heavy breath, faintly smiling as he started to undo the straps. Sam quickly took the tape off his eyes and then hurried over to help. "So, girlfriend, huh?" Dean asked, innocently smiling down at Birdie.

As soon as Birdie's arm was free, she reached up and flicked Dean on the cheek, causing him to flinch as her nail smacked against his skin. "Fuck you," she said, sitting up once Sam freed her other arm with a small smile lingering on his lips. "Is that really your main concern right now?"

"No, but it is in the top ten," Dean cheekily replied.

Birdie just rolled her eyes and hopped down from the table, rubbing at her wrists. The right one hadn't been bothering her much, but after being restrained for maybe near an hour at the very least, there was some noticeable pain lingering in her wrist unlike in her left one that just felt a bit sore. But, putting that aside for the time being, she dropped her hands down to her sides and glanced between Sam and Dean, gaze landing on Benton last. "What about this asshole?" she asked, nudging her head in the man's direction.

Dean and Sam followed her gaze, looking down at Benton's unconscious figure. Dean hadn't put a lot of chloroform on the knife unlike the man who used quite a bit to make sure his victims were unconscious long enough to get him to the cabin and tie them down; which meant it wouldn't be much longer until Benton woke up.

"Let's give him a taste of his own medicine," Dean answered.

Birdie breathed out a forced laugh, shaking her head as he headed over to Benton. Sam quietly sighed to himself and followed Dean, moving towards Benton's upper half as Dean went for the man's legs. Birdie shifted and watched them pick the man up, both grunting as they carried him over to the table Sam had been on. Birdie stood off to the side of the table, wasting no time in helping to strap the man down just like he'd done to Birdie, Sam, and countless innocent people over the years.

Just a few minutes later, Doc Benton began to stir on the table as he regained consciousness, the three hunters all peering down at him when seeing him move.

"Oh, hiya, Doc," Dean greeted him, leaning down close with a smug grin as Benton's fearful eyes fell on him. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bac-y."

"Please," Benton said, feeling the restraints keeping him bound to the table.

"Please what?" Dean asked. "You've been killing poor bastards for over 150 years and now you got a request? Shut the fuck up."

"No, you don't understand. I can help you. I know what you need."

"We might have to cut him up into little bits. You know, this immortality thing is a fucking bitch."

"I can read the formula for you." Sam shifted, his expression changing as he heard those words. Birdie stole a glance towards Sam, having a feeling that she knew what he was thinking. "You know. . .immortality. . .forever young, never die."

Dean just stared down at Benton.

"Dean," Sam softly said, eyes pinned to his brother.

"Sam," Dean replied, slowly looking up to meet Sam's gaze. There was something evident in his firm expression, almost as if he already knew what Sam was thinking; he most likely did.

Sam walked out of the room through the large pieces of cloth that were still hung from the ceiling, indicating Dean should follow. Dean tilted his head some, pausing to look across at Birdie.

She folded her arms over her chest, giving him a tired smile. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on this dickhead."

Dean breathed out a faint laugh, silently nodding before he followed Sam. Birdie shifted, narrowing her eyes when Doc Benton turned his head to helplessly look up at her.

"You have to——"

"Shut the fuck up," Birdie snapped, not wanting to hear any of the man's excuses or lies he'd come up with simply to convince them to set him free. "You know, how about I gag you now? Wanna see how that feels——no, wanna know how it tastes?"

"Birdie, please——"

Birdie firmly shook her head. "No."

"But——"

"No."

"Don't you want to save Dean?"

Birdie loudly groaned, throwing her head back in annoyance; of course she wanted to save Dean, but they didn't need Benton around for that; well, hopefully. "Can we just kill him already?"

Dean walked back to stand in front of Doc Benton. "See, what the Doc is is a freakin' monster," he said. Birdie turned her head as Sam returned to the spot next to her, not meeting her eye. "I can't do it. I would rather go to Hell."

Dean reached towards the table behind him, picking up the bottle of chloroform along with a dirtied rag.

"You don't understand. I can help you!" Benton exclaimed.

Dean forcefully placed the rag over Doc Benton's mouth, the man grunting against it as he tried to kick his legs out. Then Dean looked up, looking towards Sam who had an almost solemn look on his face. "Now, I'm gonna take care of him. You can either help me or not," Dean said. Birdie twisted her lips, unable to stop herself from taking another look at Sam. "It's up to you."

It was as if there was something Sam wanted to say, but instead he just nodded, his gaze landing on Benton as the man laid on the table, eyes peacefully shut. "So. . .what do we do with him then?"

Birdie's eyes fell on Benton along with Dean's, silently wondering what Dean had in mind for the doctor. They didn't have a whole lot of time to come up with something, but it needed it to be something that would prevent him from hurting anyone else. Now that the usual method——killing him——wasn't an option, they needed to think of something outside the box.

"I have an idea, but. . ." Dean quietly sighed, lifting his head to look between Sam and Birdie. "We do this, we put the book with him——no else can find it and hurt anyone else just-just for some immortality."

"Are you sure?" Birdie asked, eyes soft as she looked across at Dean. "I get it, Dean, but this might be the only way——"

"I'm sure," he said, firmly nodding his head. "If we don't find something in time, then so be it."

Birdie frowned to herself, wanting to say something that might've eased both of the brothers, but Dean was already walking out of the room. Sam's eyes trailed after his brother, sucking in a sharp breath. Birdie's eyes darted over to him, her face falling slightly as Sam headed after Dean as well to see what he actually had in mind.

A heavy sigh left Birdie's lips, closing her eyes.

So much for no time to die, huh?

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Hello hello everyone!!

ONLY TWO MORE CHAPTERS UNTIL WE'RE ONTO ACT TWO HEHEHE! I'M SO SAD FOR THIS ACT TO END, BUT I'M EXCITED TO GET TO SEE SEASON 4 AND FOR ALL OF YOU TO SEE WHAT I GOT PLANNED (and hopefully y'all will enjoy) 😈😅!!!!

Anyways, please don't forget to leave your feedback in the comments and I hope y'all enjoyed! 💖