A/N: This is a continuation of Kiddy Corral. The last story finished up with Dean going to hell and this picks up five months later. Those five months will be filled in and you will begin to learn what happens.

Five Months Later

2008 – September

Ohio - Northwood

The memory of hell clung to every fibre of Deans being. He tried to push it to the back of his mind as he followed behind Bobby's car in his Impala. He'd missed his car. Missed Sam and Bobby. Missed the luxury of water and the ability to sleep. But right now, he just wanted to wrap his arms around Charlotte. He wanted to thread his fingers through her hair and kiss her deeply to remind himself that he was free from hell.

When Bobby had told him that Sam had up and disappeared in the months since he'd died, his heart had started to break. When he'd learnt that Bobby had consumed alcohol like it was candy his heart had started to shatter. But when he'd learnt that Charlotte had pretty much followed in Sam's footsteps, after Bobby had told him she really had been alive when Lilith had possessed her but that she had been "real quiet, almost not quite there", Dean had found it hard to keep the pieces of his heart together.

Bobby had tried to kill him. Sam had tried to kill him and Dean tried to mentally prepare himself for Charlotte trying to kill him as they crossed the town's border. He had no idea what to expect and as they turned into the parking lot of a back water motel he felt his chest begin to ache.

Her Pontiac sat close by, dirt climbing its sides as if it hadn't been washed in months. The dents he remembered seeing in the side were still there, along with a few additions to the roof, hood and trunk. It hurt him to look at it. That had been her pride and joy. He hated to imagine what state she would be in.

"Room 8," Sam said and Dean followed behind Sam and Bobby to the right door. He felt his stomach knot with worry as Sam raised a hand and knocked.

Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets and his eyes surveyed the area before he glanced at the window. He frowned as he watched the curtain move half an inch before it fell back into place. The front door being wrenched open snapped his head to the open door and he stared.

Charlotte stood, her body tense and her eyes wary. The blue shirt she wore was stained with drops of blood. Her jeans had rips just above the knees. But it was the gun she held in one hand and the silver knife in the other, trained on just him, that had him curious and worried at the same time.

"What are you?" she ground out, her eyes dark with every promise of shooting him.

"It's him," Bobby said and Dean watched silently as she turned her attention to Bobby. At this angle Dean caught the sight of a fresh slice across her arm and he wondered how that had happened.

She turned the knife in her hand so that the handle was facing them and said, "Prove it."

Sam took the blade first, rolled up his sleeve and nicked his own skin. He held the blade out to Dean and he noticed that her grip on her gun tightened just that little bit. As he glanced over the weapon he found his frown deepening at the sight of bloodied knuckles and bruised wrists. He stared at her as he took the weapon and used it on the spot he'd used to prove to Bobby that he was him. As his blood trickled red he flicked his eyes up to her. Her mouth parted slightly and her hands started to lower. When he passed the knife to Bobby there was something close to doubt in her eyes.

Dean waited before Bobby slit his own skin before he tried a smile and the words, "It's good to see you again Charlotte."

A brief smile flickered over her lips as she lowered her gun. "Good to see you too." Her eyes moved to Sam and lingered on Dean before she frowned at the three of them. "How'd you find me anyway?"

Sam was the one who answered, "GPS in your phone."

She turned her head with a slight look of confusion into her room before irritation took over her face. "Right," she said before she slowly turned her head back to face them. There was conflict in her eyes and Dean tried to get a read on her but he couldn't tell what was going on. Then she was turning around and stepping back into the motel room, pushing the door open. "Guess you should come inside then," she threw over her shoulder.

Dean was the last to enter and he hesitated in the doorway before he closed the door. Empty bottles, bits of paper, books and food wrappers littered the surfaces and there was a bloodied towel draped over the chair. He fixed his eyes on her and watched as she tossed her gun onto the bed and grabbed her phone from the bedside table.

"You forget how to call?" Bobby asked.

She flicked her eyes up then and Dean caught a glimpse of a wound just underneath her hairline. "Sorry," she said.

It was Sam who asked the million dollar question, "What happened to you?"

There was a moment of hesitation before she said simply, "Bad hunt." Her eyes moved to Dean and there was something off in the way she looked him over. "How are you alive?"

"Was kinda hoping you could tell me."

"Wish I could," she said. Her eyes moved to look over all of them and she frowned. "So," she started, moving to perch herself on the end of the bed, "what's the news?"

The three of them gave each other a look before Bobby started to talk, "Few demons decided Pontiac, Illinois would be a good place to haul ass."

She frowned, her eyes flicking to Dean, "That's where you were buried."

Sam nodded, "Yeah. They arrived about the same time Dean got out yesterday morning."

"So not a coincidence then," she said.

"Yeah," Sam said, "but we've no idea what they're planning."

"But it's something big," Bobby said.

Sam nodded his head once, "Right. We need help."

Dean's eyes were fixed on Charlotte, on the way she studied Sam and Bobby, the way she cradled her phone in her hands as if she was expecting a phone call, the way her eyes told him that she was listening but that her thoughts were distracted with something else.

"I know a psychic. A few hours from here. Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking," Bobby said.

Dean tuned back into the conversation completely then and listened to Sam say that it was worth a shot. He fixed Charlotte with a look and said, "You in?"

She glanced at him, at Bobby then at Sam before she shrugged a shoulder. "Sure. Why not? I was just about finished here anyway." She stood and turned her attention to the room before she lifted her gaze to Bobby, "Just give me five minutes to clean up and I'll be out."

"Alright, but be quick," Bobby said before he stepped forward to place a hand on her shoulder. "It's good to see you alive Charlotte." A faint smile barely reached her eyes and Dean tilted his head back with a frown. When the other two men started to move Dean took a step away from the door and passed them a tight smile. Sam gave him a smile and passed a look to Charlotte who just stared at him.

When it was just the two of them Dean closed the door and took a step in her direction. "What's going on with you?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I've no idea what you-"

"Cut the crap. Something's up with you." He nodded his head to the bottles around the room, "Since when did you drink a liquor store?"

Her eyes narrowed and she glared at him. "It's been a rough few months Dean."

"And running away from Bobby? Without a word? And I don't get so much as a 'Hi' from you?"

Charlotte turned her head away from him then, the muscles in her jaw working. "Don't," she whispered, slowly turning her head back to face him. "Don't tell me what I should and should not be doing." She turned and started moving around the room, picking things up and either throwing them onto the bed or into the duffle bag that sat in the middle of it. "I'm glad you're alive Dean. I am."

Dean took careful steps until he was behind her and he whispered, "Are you?"

She spun with a glare in her features. "What do you want from me Dean? You want me to wrap my arms around you and tell you I can think straight now? Want me to cry being thankful that you're here? Do I have to grin and be happy all of a sudden because you're back? Is that what you want? I'm glad you're alive. I am, don't you dare think I'm not happy about it."

"Sure look it."

She ground her teeth and he almost reeled his head back at a growling snarl from her. "So I'm not in a hugging mood! Is that a crime now?"

"No!" He took a step back and shook his head, "I just want to know what the hell happened to you?"

"How was hell Dean?"

"What?"

"Well we're playing twenty questions, how was hell?"

He paused, studying her face and trying to figure out what was going behind those angry blue eyes. "I don't remember."

She scoffed and turned her back on him, going back to packing things away or throwing things in the bin. "Of course you don't." Dean watched her, trying to figure what could've happened to her in the months that he'd been gone for her to turn out like this. It worried him. He was about to take a step back and turn back to the door when she froze, her head tilted downwards. Then she dropped a couple of shirts onto the bed and moved her hands up and over her head. She turned and his eyes were drawn to the necklace in her hands, his necklace. "Here," she held it out to him.

He stared at it for a little longer before he looked up at her. Her eyes weren't quite focused on him and he lifted his head ever so slightly. A smile started on his lips and he took a step forward, lifted a hand and took the necklace from her hands. He kept his eyes fixed on her, watching her watch him and he took the necklace in both hands. He took another step forward until they were toe to toe and lifted his hands. Her eyes moved then and she lifted her hands to try to stop him. Dean shook his head, "I want you to have it."

Charlotte stared at him and gave a shake of her head, "No. You wanted me to keep it safe."

He smiled sadly and pushed her arms away. They fell to her sides and he pulled the necklace over her head. "I want you to have it." He watched it fall over her chest and he used his hands to move her hair out of the way, brushing it back over her shoulders. His eyes found her face and he smiled wider at the dumbstruck way she was staring at him. He pressed his hand to her arm and smoothed his thumb over the red cut. She didn't hiss or wince and he quickly cupped her face with his other hand and pulled her in for a quick kiss. He moved back an inch to look at her, to see what her eyes were saying and he couldn't tell what she was thinking, but there was a slight blush working its way over her cheeks that had him curious and smirking.

He'd never made her blush before.

She stared at him and he watched as her shoulder rose and fell with quick breaths. Then she dragged his mouth to hers with her hands behind his neck. He stumbled at the sudden action and they fell against the wall, his body pressing her into the plaster. She kissed him hard, desperately, sloppily and needily and Dean took it just as desperately. He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, missing the warmth of her body pressed against his. He ran a hand through her hair and felt her tug on his shoulder.

Just as quickly as she had started it she ended it, pulling her head back and tugging on his jacket away from her. Her bottom lip was swollen and her skin was flushed and Dean found himself panting, his hands still on her. There was a faint smile to her lips and he felt her hand gently press against his cheek. "You're alive," she whispered.

He grinned and a short laugh escaped him. "Yeah."

A shaky smile started to fill her face before she stepped back, pulling away from him completely. Her arms dropped to her side and she nodded. "Good, keep it that way." She stepped around him, her head low and he watched her continue to pack things up.

Dean sighed and turned to face her back. Something had happened, something bad. He just watched her put things away for a few silent moments before he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'll be outside," he said.

She just nodded, her back still to him.

He took one last look at her before he left the motel room. Sam was perched against the hood of the Impala, talking to Bobby. When Dean came out he straightened up and asked, "Everything alright?"

Dean looked between the pair of them and shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know." He spared a look over his shoulder at the door to her room before he found his eyes moving to her Pontiac. "Let's just figure out what brought me back first."