Carry On

With a sickening rip, the werewolf's claws sliced through Frankie's shirt and into the flesh on her chest. She let out a loud scream at the sudden sting, straining with all of her might to keep the creature's teeth at bay. It had her pinned, she'd barely managed to lift her legs to the creatures chest in time to keep it from ripping out her heart, though even now the creature fumbled viciously for it, scratching the holy hell out of her chest. Her pistol with the silver bullets, was long gone--lost somewhere after the monster had jumped her from behind.

Reaching for her father's knife at her side, she pushed the creature back, letting out another scream at the pain that radiated from the cuts in her chest. Moving her feet off of the monsters chest, Frankie leaned forward as the werewolf lunged for her, plunging her knife into its heart. After a final gasp, the creature's face reverted back to its human form before collapsing in a heavy mass on top of her. She'd never been more thankful her father's knife was a silver one, even if she'd secretly hoped to never allow a werewolf close enough to use a knife.

"Friggin' werewolves." She grumbled to herself, pushing the girl off of her. She'd been lucky it was a female, and a small one at that. Pulling her shredded shirt away from her chest, Frankie assessed the damage the creature had caused. The cuts burned like a son of a bitch, but her legs had kept the creature far enough away so she hadn't caused too much damage. At least it wouldn't need stitching up, but she'd still need to clean them.

Stretching her sore back as she stood up, Frankie made a silent promise to kick Ellen's ass if she gave her another werewolf case--two in two months was enough for her liking. Not to mention, she hated the smell they gave off as they burned, it was a dirty, pungent odor and it clung to the clothes.

No sooner had Frankie reached her car, her cell phone buzzed from the glove compartment. Tearing off her bloody, torn, t-shirt, she wiped some of the excess blood from her chest before answering her call.

"Yeah?" She asked, tossing the old shirt into the back seat.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you for over an hour!" Frankie frowned, pulling the phone away from her ear as Ellen's voice had risen. Finding another shirt on the back, floorboard, Frankie gave it a quick sniff before sliding it on.

"Well, I'm sorry. How about the next time you look into people with missing hearts you hand the case to Rob or someone, because I've just about had it up to here with werewolves." She spat back, making her way to her trunk to grab the can of gasoline.

"Don't you sass me girl." Ellen's tone had switched to one of warning and Frankie gave an unseen eye roll before closing her trunk and making her way back to the dead girl she'd left in the woods. "I need you to get back here and have a talk with Jo."

Frankie paused for a moment as she'd seen the glint of her gun along the path.

"What for?" She asked, stooping to pick the weapon up and shove it back into its holster at her side.

"I heard her talking to Dean the other day," Dean friggin' Winchester. "It sounded like she was trying to convince him to let her tag along on one of their hunts." Frankie did not like the sound of that. Hunting was one thing, but hunting with people you barely knew was another.

"Why would she ask him instead of me?"

"She is not hunting period, dammit!" Frankie frowned as she'd reached the dead wolf girl. "I want you to try to kick this thought from her head, she listens to you." Like hell she did, Jo just felt more comfortable talking with Frankie than her mother because Frankie was less quick to judge than Ellen.

"Alright, sure." Frankie doused the body, grabbing the matches from her pocket. "I'm all finished here. I'll be headed that way in a bit." Taking a step back, Frankie inhaled through her mouth to avoid the odor as the blue flames encompassed the body.

The thought bugged her more than it probably should have, still Frankie couldn't help wondering why Jo had asked to go with the Winchester's on a hunt. Was Jo really that hooked on Dean? Or had she asked other hunters as well? Shoving her hands into her back pockets, Frankie watched the corpse as it burned to nothing.

The drive from Shawnee, Oklahoma back to Harvelle's Roadhouse was about an eight and a half hour drive. Except for a quick stop back to her hotel to get cleaned up and to dress her wounds, Frankie drove back nonstop and made it in six and a half.

Pulling around the back, she noticed the black, '67 Impala parked in the front and knew the Winchester's had beaten her--there was no mistaking John's American muscle. Since he was gone, it only made sense that his car would be passed on to his boys.

It was late in the afternoon when she'd arrived, so as she entered the saloon Jo was running around trying to give the tables one last clean while Ellen was behind the bar getting ready to open. Sam and Dean were already sitting at the bar, sipping on beers they probably hadn't paid for.

"Oh, Jesus, Frankie." Ellen breathed, tossing her towel over her shoulder. Frankie had almost forgotten about the scratches on her chest, unfortunately she was wearing a low cut top--which she'd chosen specifically to let the cuts get some air.

Glancing down at her new wounds, she gave a shrug before taking a seat adjacent to Dean's at the bar. Sam gave her a wave and Dean gave a nod as his means of saying hello before taking another drink from his beer.

"It's a scratch." Frankie waved it off as Ellen crossed her arms.

"Looks like a few scratches." Sam added, looking at her chest as if he himself could feel the sting from the cuts. Frankie scrunched her face up into a twisted smile before shrugging.

"Jo," Ellen called as she'd been making her over to Frankie, probably to get more information on the scratches. "Go pull up another case of beer."

"Mom--"

"Now. Please?" Jo shot Frankie a look she'd known all too well. Jo loved her mom and respected her more than any other person on the planet, but she was getting tired of the way her mother treated her, especially in front of others. Even Frankie couldn't deny Ellen treated Jo like a child, but she'd told Jo if she didn't stand up to her mother nothing was going to change. Frankie loved them both, but there was a tension between the two that only they could fix.

After Jo had left, Frankie stood up to follow assuming it was Ellen's way of trying to get Jo alone so Frankie could have 'the talk' with her, only Ellen motioned for Frankie to sit back down. It had been a trap.

"So, you, uh, wanna tell us about this last hunt of yours?" It wasn't Frankie that Ellen had approached, but Sam and Dean. Frankie turned in her seat so that she could face the boys. She couldn't understand what Ellen was getting at, but it seemed to strike a nerve in Dean as he picked up his beer with an annoyed expression pressed into his face. Sam looked over to Dean as if awaiting his approval to confess whatever it was they were keeping secret.

"Nope. Not really." He watched Ellen as he pressed the glass to his lips before pulling it away to add, "no offense it's just, kinda a family thing." He gave Frankie a slight wink as he took a drink of his beer.

Frankie let out a short laugh of disbelief. A family thing? He sure as hell hadn't been thinking that when he'd come running to Ellen for help, or Ash. Frankie opened her mouth to say something when Ellen put her hand up to silence her. Licking her lips Frankie sat back, still smiling in annoyed, disbelief.

"Not anymore." Ellen reached under the counter, tossing a stack of papers in front of Dean. "I got this stuff from Ash." She had that look in her face she normally got when she was unpleased about something. Whatever it was she was talking about, it wasn't making her happy the boys were keeping secrets from her after she'd shown them nothing but hospitality.

Dean's patience was growing thin.

"Andrew Gallagher's house burned down on his six month birthday." Just like John's had on Sam's, Frankie remembered John telling her years ago. At this, Frankie reached over for the stack of papers.

"Just like your house?" She asked sifting through the papers and earning herself a glare from Dean.

"You think it was the demon both times, don't you?" Ellen was connecting the dots. "You think it went after Gallagher's family?" Frankie did, it was the only thing that made sense. The yellow-eyed demon had hit more homes. Whatever John had been hunting had been a lot bigger than anything he'd been anticipating and Frankie knew the Winchester searching for this only brought danger with them and to the Roadhouse. They were all in on it now, whether they wanted to be or not.

Dean rolled his eyes, giving an annoyed smile of his own now as he glanced down at the bar.

"Yeah, we think so." Sam confessed, looking between Frankie and Ellen. He understood they had a right to know, especially after he and Dean had sought them out for help.

"Sam." Dean warned.

"Why?" Ellen pressed, ignoring Dean completely.

"None of your business." Dean interrupted, shooting Ellen a fierce look.

"Hey," Ellen's hand shot out to grab Frankie's arm and place her back in her seat. Frankie didn't like Dean's tone. It would have been fine had he directed it towards Frankie, but he was talking to Ellen and Frankie wasn't about to let him get away with it.

"You mind your tongue with me, boy." Ellen warned Dean, meriting nothing but a surprised look from him. "This isn't just your war, this is war. Something big and bad is coming, and it's coming fast and their side holds all the cards." As the weight of Ellen's words set in, Frankie calmed down a bit, sitting back in her seat. Ellen was right, and there was no time for petty quarreling. "Now at best, all we got is us--together. No secrets or half-truths here." Dean looked back at his beer, defeated. He knew she was right, he didn't need Sam's added glance to convince him otherwise. He and Sam needed them, and there was no point in asking these people to trust them if they weren't being completely honest with them.

Taking a deep breath, Sam looked up at Ellen, fidgeting with his glass.

"There are people out there, like Andy Gallagher... like me..." Sam paused for a moment as though searching for the right words. "And um... we all have some kind of ability."

"Ability?" Ellen asked, not quite understanding where he was coming from.

"Yeah. A psychic ability."

Frankie was quiet as she lay on the hood of her Chevelle, her arms tucked behind her head as she looked up at the stars trying to wrap her head around everything. Sam had visions, along with a list of other people hand chosen by the yellow-eyed demon that God only knew was how long. There was no pattern, no way of knowing who was one of these 'chosen' psychics, how many there were, and no one had a clue as to what the demon had planned for them. Trouble was coming and it was coming fast.

She let out a sigh as she heard a set of footsteps approaching. Jo had been bugging her for the last few hours about what the hell had happened when she'd left and Frankie knew if Ellen had sent her away it meant she didn't want her to know. She was afraid if Jo kept persisting, she'd just tell her for the sake of shutting her up, but it wasn't Jo's voice that sounded.

"What is it with hunter's and muscle cars?" Without sitting up, Frankie turned her head to see Dean admiring her car in the moonlight. It seemed as though it had gotten dark quick, though in actuality they'd just been inside drinking for a few hours trying to forget how screwed they all were. She was honestly a little surprised Sam and Dean hadn't left yet.

"Your dad helped me pick it out." She hadn't forgotten, but she didn't normally bring up how she'd come in possession of her car so the memory made her uncomfortable. Sitting up, Frankie rested her feet on the front pumper, folding her arms across her knees.

Dean looked uncomfortable as he tucked his hands away in his jacket pockets.

"I uh, I just thought it was my turn to be giving an apology." Frankie raised an eyebrow as Dean looked every which way but at her. "I shouldn't have snapped, back there and uh...I'm sorry." He said the last part quickly, looking back as if someone was waiting for him.

After a moment of silence, Frankie laughed, hopping down from her car. "You are such a douche." She managed through her laughing fit. Dean's face fell and though he was trying to look surprised by her accusation, he couldn't fight back a smile. Girls didn't normally insult him until he was getting dressed early the next morning.

"I'm trying to apologize, here." He argued, jokingly sounding hurt by Frankie's words.

Crossing her arms, Frankie looked Dean over. She was having difficulty figuring him out and it made him uncomfortable for her to be around. In several ways, he reminded her of John, though she figured that John's smarts had more than likely passed over to Sam, along with most of his patience.

"Why aren't you running after Jo's skirts right now?" At this, Dean rolled his jade eyes, giving her a shrug.

"Can you pretend, for one moment, that I'm not as shallow as you think?" He asked, looking down at her in disbelief. In reality, the reason he wasn't was because a part of him feared that if he touched Jo, both Ellen and Frankie would hunt him down and skin him alive.

"Alright." After a moment, Frankie uncrossed her arms, placing them on her hips. Dean's eyes followed them for a split second before quickly focusing on a spot in the dirt and he hoped to God she hadn't noticed. "There's no need for an apology." That had caught Dean off guard. "I understand why you got all bitchy, if Sam was my brother I wouldn't be too keen on telling people about that either. Especially in a bar full of hunters." If it had been her in his shoes, she would have told Ellen where to go and how to get there.

"Eh, see." He cooed as a grin began to spread across his face. "I think a part of you deep down, likes me, Frankie." He said, playfully pointing a finger at her. Frankie's mouth fell open as she shook her head in disbelief. Why was it this man couldn't take anything seriously for longer than five minutes? Shaking her head, Frankie turned her back on him, leaving Dean alone and still grinning, in the parking lot.

"Friggin' douche." She said through a smile as the front doors of the saloon swung closed behind her.