I know, I know, I'm sorry for not updating for such a long time, but I promise I will update more often from now on! Thank you all for your patience! I hope you like this chapter!

*Annabelle's P.O.V.*

I heard grunting above me, and looked up, only to see Sam pulling himself fully onto the railing right underneath the bridge level. As soon as his feet were out of the way, I used all of the strength in my biceps to pull myself up onto the railing I was hanging on to with my hands, the railing being the only thing keeping me from falling into the river beneath us.

"Annabelle!" Sam called, and I looked up at him as I managed to pull the top half of my body up onto the railing beneath him.

"I'm okay," I assured as I managed to get my legs up and join Sam on the other railing, both of us holding on to the bridge top level, "Where's your brother?" I asked as I glanced around, not seeing the older Winchester anywhere. Sam's eyes widened as he quickly glanced around as well, before we both looked down at the rushing river.

"Dean!" we both yelled, before noticing a man crawling out of the river, completely covered in mud.

"Hey. Are you alright?" Sam asked, and nodded.

"I'm super!" he called, and I couldn't help but chuckle a little. Sam also laughed a short laugh, before we both cautiously got to our feet, still on the railing. We then grabbed onto the metal barrier of the bridge, and our arms to fling ourselves over it, landing safely on the bridge. Sam and I shared a look, before sighing in relief.

*5 Minutes Later*

"Your car alright?" Sam asked his brother as Dean checked the Impala. Dean met up with us on the bridge, covered in mud from head to toe, as soon as he managed to catch his breath, and he checked the Impala, while I checked my car.

"Yeah, whatever she did to it, it seems alright now," Dean replied, leaning against his car.

"Yeah, I can't say the same thing about mine," I said, and the two brothers looked over at me, before sharing a glance and walking over to where I was standing next to my car, or rather what was left of it. From behind, the car looked fine, but in the front, the whole hood was completely destroyed as it was slammed into one of the metal posts of the bridge. I could bet all of my money that the engine, as well as everything else on the inside was completely destroyed, not even worth fixing. The post was embedded in my car from the very front all the way to the backseat, and that made it nearly split in half from the front.

"Whoa," Dean muttered as he and Sam stared at my car with wide eyes.

"Mm-hmm," I nodded, using all my willpower to not cause a storm, "That Constance chick - what a bitch!" I yelled.

"Well, she doesn't want us digging around, that's for sure," Sam noted, and I sighed as I looked at my destroyed baby, "So where's the trail go from here, genius?" Sam turned to his brother, who only threw his hands up in the air as he blew out a breath.

"Well," I started as I opened the back door of my car, with a bit of trouble seeing as it was kind of jammed, and grabbed three big bags that were in the backseat, "It looks like I'm stuck with you," I said, turning back to the Winchesters, before stopping abruptly as I smelled the horrendous odor and turning to Dean. "You smell like a toilet,"

*The Next Day*

"One room, please," Dean told the older man at the registration desk in the nearest hotel we found as he threw his fake credit card on the desk.

"You guys having a reunion or something?" the man at the desk asked as he looked at Dean's card, making us shared a confused glance.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"That other guy, Bert Aframian," the man said, and I leaned over to Sam, whom I was standing closest to because I didn't want to be around Dean when he stunk as bad as he did now.

"John?" I whispered quietly, and he nodded.

"He came in and bought out a room for the whole month," the man continued, and I shared a look with the boys, "Alright, here it is. Room 11," the man said, before handing us a key to out hotel room and handing Dean the card back. Sam and I gave him a nod in thanks, before the three of us made our way down the hallways. Thankfully, the man gave us a room right next to the one John resided in, and Sam took care of picking the lock, while Dean and I stood guard.

"What's in these?" Dean asked, and I turned to look at him, only to see him looking down at the three bags in my hands. He and Sam both offered to help me carry them earlier, so each of us carried only one bag instead of me being stuck with three.

"These two have my clothes, shoes, my hair brush, tooth brush, and all the other necessities," I said as I held up the two bags in my right hand, before holding up the largest bag in my left hand, "And this one has all my weapons," I said, and Dean whistled lowly, making me crack a smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted when a hand grabbed his shoulder and another grabbed mine from behind, pulling us into John's room. Sam quickly closed the door before anyone noticed, and the three of us looked around the room.

Dean walked over to a nightstand by one of the beds and turned on the lamp, before picking up a leftover burger and sniffing it, only to reel back in disgust as Sam and I walked around the room.

"I don't think he's been here for a couple days at least," Dean said, while I crouched down beside a thick white line around the beds, touching it and rubbing it between my fingers.

"Salt," I confirmed what we all thought.

"Cat's-eye shells," Sam continued for me, "He was worried. trying to keep something from coming in," he said, while Dean looked at one of the walls decorated with different articles, photos, and such, "What do you got here?" Sam asked after a moment, and the two of us walked over to join Dean as he looked at the pictures of different men.

"Centennial highway victims," Dean replied, as I continued to look around the room while listening to him at the same time, "I don't get it. Different me, different jobs, ages, ethnicities," he spoke, but I started walking away from them as I caught sight of the papers pinned to the wall on the other side of the room, "There's always a connection, right? What do these guys have in common?" Dean continued, and neither Sam nor I answered, seeing as we had no idea. But then my eyes fell on the piece of paper that read: Woman in White. My brows furrowed for a second, before I walked over to the wall where that piece of paper was pinned.

I inspected the different articles and pictures, before letting out a small chuckle as I shook my head.

"Your dad figured it out," I spoke up, and they turned around to look at me.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"He found the same article we did," I replied, pointing to the printed copy of the article I read in the Jericho Public Library. "Constance Welch. She's a woman in white,"

"You sly dogs," Dean commented, turning his head to look at the pictures of the victims, before turning back around to look at me and Sam. "Alright, so if we're dealing with a woman in white, Dad would have found the corpse and destroyed it," I scoffed quietly at the 'if', before shaking my head.

"Well, she might have another weakness," I said.

"No, Dad would want to make sure," Dean said, and I had to force back an irritated sigh as he and Sam walked over to me. "He'd dig her up. Does it say where she's buried?"

"No, not that I can tell," I replied.

"Well, if I were Dad, I'd go ask her husband," Sam said, tapping the photo of Constance's husband.

"If he's still alive," I added, and he nodded in agreement.

"Alright, why don't you two see, uh, if you can find an address. I'm gonna get cleaned up," Dean spoke up, and Sam and I nodded as I picked up my bags from the floor and placed them on one of the beds.

"Hey, Dean?" Sam called, making his older brother stop and turn around, "What I said earlier about Mom and Dad - I'm sorry," he said, but Dean held up his hand.

"No chick-flick moments," he said, and Sam let out a small chuckle.

"Alright," he nodded, "Jerk,"

"Bitch," was Dean's reply before he went to the bathroom, and I chuckled, beyond amused, while Sam laughed. However, I stopped as I saw a worn photo sticking out from underneath the frame of the mirror by the wall, and took a few steps forward before pulling it out and looking at it.

In the picture was a man around his early 40's, with two boys on either of his sides. One looked around 12, while the other looked around 8.

"Hey, Sam," I called, and he turned around.

"Yeah?" I held up the photo, and he looked at it in slight disbelief before walking over to me and taking it out of my hand, staring at it for a while. I couldn't help the small smile that grew on my lips as I saw his eyes soften.