Sam leaves Dean and I, and walks around to the back of the house. Dean leads the way into the house. It's massive. Quietly, I follow close behind him, and find myself gripping the iron for some security, even though it's not exactly what I'd like to hold onto. Dean navigates carefully, using his flashlight sparingly to light the way. He finds a blood trail and follows it to a door.

"Stay behind me," he instructs me quietly. I nod.

Dean opens the door, leading in our descent into a pitch black, maze-like basement. The smell of stale blood and death fills the damp air. I wrinkle my nose; it feels like I could catch my own death just by breathing this air.

As we reach the bottom of the steps, the door above us slams shut. I hold back a jump and take a deep breath.

"We've got company," Dean says. "Don't worry. You have your weapons. Listen, we have to split up. There's too much ground to cover down here and not enough time. Can you do this?" His eyes search mine for an answer, piercing me, even in the dark of the basement.

"Yes," I reply. I don't want to disappoint him.

"Alright. You go right, I'll go left. We'll meet somewhere along the way. If you find anyone alive, get somewhere, make a circle and stay. I'll find you. If you find anyone dead, keep moving. If you -"

"I got it, Dean," I interrupt. "Not a lot of time, remember?"

"Right," he nods.

I start down my path. The walls are covered in dust and spider webs, like your classic haunted house. The further down the hallway I go, the stronger the stench becomes. I worry; I don't want to find a dead body.

I find a doorway a ways down the hall and decide to take it. The air in the room is freezing cold. The temperature, mixed with my nerves, sends chills down my spine. Across the room, I see two people chained to the wall, and assume they're the missing people.

"Hey!" I call out to them. "Alexis, Dawson!"

I approach them carefully. They're both alive, but barely. Alexis stirs, waking up with a confused look.

"Who are you?"

"My name's Mallory, I'm here to help you out," I tell her.

Before she responds, her face becomes horrified, and she lets out a loud scream that echos in the room. I turn around to see a man three times my size in bloody clothing. Without thinking, I swing the iron rod right through him, and he disappears.

"Okay, we don't have long. Is Dawson okay?" I ask.

"I - I think so," she nods. "He's been out for a while."

"I'm going to pick these locks and get you two out, be my eyes for me."

As I work on the chains, I begin to feel panicked, wondering where Dean is, and how far Sam's gotten. Surely Dean isn't lost. All I know is that I can't fight a ghost and drag an unconscious man out of a basement by myself.

I unlock Alexis's cuffs and she stands weakly, stretching her limbs.

"Mallory!" She yells. "Look out!"

I turn to see the ghost again, this time taking a swing at me. He knocks me off my feet, but disappears as I reach for the iron again. I scramble to stand back up and struggle to catch my breath.

"Okay, here." I take my salt out, and pour a half-circle connecting to the wall around Alexis and Dawson, giving them shelter. "Whatever you do, don't break this salt line, don't cross this salt line, and don't do anything else. The ghost can't cross this."

As soon as I'm finished lecturing her, the ghost returns. I take my iron in hand and ready myself. He lunges at me, but I swing, disintegrating him.

Finally, the door opens, and Dean enters. He asks if we're all okay.

"We're fine, just -"

Of course, at that moment, I'm flung into the air and plastered to a wall. I drop the iron rod as the ghost appears, a hand around my throat, and all my limbs rendered paralyzed. I regain my eyesight for a moment to see that Dean is held hostage across the room, also pinned to a wall.

"I know you," the ghost mutters in a terrifying voice. "You want to take me away from here."

"I don't," I choke out, trying to save my own ass. "I don't."

"You're a reaper!" It screams. The smell of death accompanies it's rotten breath. Thankfully, I can't breathe much in the first place.

My vision begins to blacken as I hear Dean telling me to hold on. My last thoughts are hoping to everything good in the universe that Sam was finding those bones quickly.

As I wake up, my head feels cloudy, and aches a little bit. I'm reassured by the change in scenery that I'm alive, and still with Sam and Dean. I focus my eyes on the ceiling of the motel room and try to put my scattered thoughts together. I try to sit up, but I'm immediately eased back down onto the pillow by Sam.

"Take it easy," he says. "How do you feel?"

"My head hurts a little, but I feel okay," I reply with a groggy voice. "My throat hurts."

"You got choked out," he points out. "It should hurt."

I grimace. "Thanks. Where are Alexis and Dawson? Dean?"

"Alexis and Dawson are at the hospital getting taken care of, they're both okay though. Dean's finishing up at the scene. He'll be glad to know you're okay."

"Sorry, I should've been more careful."

"And I should've dug a little faster," Sam shrugs. "It happens. But everyone's safe, so it's fine."

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Nine in the morning," he responds. "I'm surprised you slept all night, but you were obviously tired."

"Did you guys get some rest?"

"Yeah, Dean just put you in his bed and took the couch," Sam nods.

I feel somewhat guilty. That couch doesn't look comfortable.

"Thanks for watching me, but can I go back to my room?" I ask, feeling a little uncomfortable.

Sam shrugs. "If you want, I don't care. Just let me know if you need something."

I mumble a quick thanks before clumsily getting out of Dean's bed and leaving the room. Once I get into my own room, I go to my own bed and crash, falling into a deep sleep.

Knock knock

I wake up partially, trying to figure out if someone's at my door. I don't hear anything, so I turn over and get comfortable again.

Knock knock knock

"Ugh," I sigh, feeling irritated that someone's bothering me while I'm trying to rest. I climb out of bed and go open the door, wearing my best scowl. I'm starting to understand why people hate being woken up so much.

"Yikes," Dean frowns.

"Nice to see you're okay, too," I roll my eyes.

"Can I come in?" He asks.

"I guess." I hold the door open. He saunters in, and I take notice of his clothing. A t-shirt and sweats. It's out of character for him, but it looks good.

"You feelin' okay?" He asks. "No offense, but you look like crap."

Concerned, I walk into the bathroom and look in the mirror. Dean's right. My hair is a frazzled mess, I look like I've never slept (which isn't entirely false), and my neck is a sick purple. I cringe at my own appearance and fix it by smoothing my hair down some, and healing the bruising. My headache clears with it.

Dean puts an arm around my shoulders. "Better."

"Are you okay?" I ask. "It's 11 p.m., Dean, what's up?"

"I couldn't sleep, I wanted to come check on you," he answers.

"I'm fine," I assure him. "It could've been worse. Sorry for putting you through that. I should've put myself in the circle with the kids and waited for you."

Dean shakes his head at me. "You were protecting them. That takes a lot for a first hunt. I'm impressed."

I turn to face him and realize just how close we are. My breath hitches slightly, but I cover it by clearing my throat. "Impressed?"

He nods slowly, his lips curling into a smile. "You're very impressive."

I smile in response to him, and think, why not impress him some more?

I grab his face gently and kiss him. It takes him a second to respond, but his hands find my waist and hold me close, making me feel safe. The stubble underneath my palms contrasts the lips against mine; they're surprisingly soft.

Dean takes me by surprise and lifts me onto the bathroom counter. I smile down at him now, a few inches taller than him.

"You really are short, huh?" I tease.

"Don't push your luck," Dean warns me, a playful tone behind his words. Part of me wants to.

At a loss for words, I simply smile at him some more. I can feel the blood pooling in my cheeks, and I know the admiration is palpable from my facial expression.

"What?" Dean asks quietly.

"Nothing, it's just unexpected," I shrug. "You wanted to kill me a few months ago."

"Poor judgement on my part," he jokes. "I'm glad I didn't."

Dean pulls me in for another kiss. He presses me against the counter now, tangling his hands in my hair. I relish this for a moment before I separate myself from him. It takes a considerable amount of control; nothing has ever felt as good as Dean did at that moment.

"What are we doing?" I ask, audibly disappointed. Not in the events unfolding, but the fact that I can't pursue them.

"Good question," he mutters. Dean leans in again, but I put my hand on his chest to stop him.

"You realize that we'd be taking an enormous risk...right?"

This seems to snap Dean back into reality. "Sorry. You're right. I got carried away."

"It's okay, don't worry," I assure him, "I almost did, too."

"I'll let you get back to sleep," Dean says, turning to leave.

I stop him, grabbing his arm with both of my hands. "I didn't say leave. I want you to stay. I sleep better."

Dean laughs. "Fair enough. I'm all yours."