Last chapter guys...

It took me 2 weeks to write this chapter instead of one, so sorry there was no update last week. Those who'd left me a review knew that, as I'd been able to warn them ^^

Chapter 22: The Lonely

I'm the ghost of a girl
That I want to be most
I'm the shell of a girl
That I used to know well

Dancing slowly in an empty room
Can the lonely take the place of you
I sing myself a quiet lullaby
Then you go and let the lonely in
To take my heart again

Christina Perri – The Lonely

"I know who did it," Sam whispered, and promptly started coughing his lungs out. Someone turned him on his side and softly thumped his back until he stopped wheezing and was able to breathe again. He rolled back on his back and panted, looking sideways. Dean was staring back, looking pale and tired.

"Hey," Sam whispered, smiling a little. He wiggled uncomfortably in his bed, feeling hot and sticky.

"Hey," Dean answered. His voice sounded rough, Sam noticed.

"I know who did it," he repeated. He felt a little detached from his body. His headache made it a little hard to concentrate.

"You need to rest," Dean answered. They were both silent for a few minutes, before Dean silently said "I'm glad you're awake" and brushed his fingers through Sam's hair.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked and clumsily grabbed Dean's wrist, "Dean… Dean, look at me…"

"I'm fine Sammy," Dean gave him a small smile.

"Where's dad?" Sam asked, finally noticing his father's absence.

"In his room," Dean glanced at the wall, "He's almost cracked the case."

Both brothers were silent again, until Sam softly asked: "Is he not talking to you again?"

Dean got up and walked away from Sam's bed, running a hand over his mouth. He walked to the window and stared out of it, before sitting down heavily in one of those plastic chairs.

"It's nothing," he said at last, "How are you feeling?"

Sam shrugged, "Like I've been sleeping for days."

He almost managed to make grin. His brother sighed and sat down next to him again, "Let me check your fever."

"I can do it," Sam argued, pushing Dean away as he tried to stick the thermometer in his ear. He clumsily snagged it away from his brother and stuck it in his ear, waiting for the beep.

"How much?" Dean asked, looking a bit anxious.

"100.4," Sam answered. Dean sighed in relief.

"You're doing great," he said, ruffling through his brother's hair, "You do need to shower though."

"Later," Sam agreed. He yawned and blinked heavily, "Sleep first."

Dean nodded and Sam closed his eyes, blinking them open again to look at Dean, "I know who did it."

"Go to sleep, Sammy," Dean said and brushed his hand over Sam's eyes, closing them.

When Sam woke up again, his father was sitting next to his bad, reading his journal and writing something down every now and then. Sam studied his dad for a while, before the older Winchester noticed his son was awake.

"Hey Sammy," he said softly and smiled, "How're you feeling?"

Sam shrugged and sighed, propping himself up on his elbows a little. John got up and readjusted the pillows, so Sam could sit up without wearing himself out.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked.

"Ssh," John answered, and brought his finger to his lips, before pointing behind him. Sam followed his finger and noticed his brother. Dean was fast asleep, lying awkwardly in the chair. He looked like hell, exhausted and sad.

"He's asleep," Sam mumbled.

"Finally," John sighed, still staring at his eldest, "I don't think he's slept much since you… fell ill…"

Sam blushed a little and looked away from his family members, softly asking: "Are you mad at me?"

"No Sammy," John said and he laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. His son looked up at him. He looked so young and vulnerable.

"Are you mad at Dean?" Sam asked even softer.

"I'm not mad," John sighed.

"He thinks you're mad," Sam said, "He's beating himself up over… everything I did wrong."

"Dean is fine," John said, glancing at the sleeping teenager.

"Please talk to him," Sam begged. John looked back at his youngest son and ruffled the kid's hair. Daddy would make everything alright.

"So…" John asked after a few seconds, "Want to tell me what happened?"

"Eh…" Sam could feel the blood drain from his face, before it all flooded back, making him blush, "I don't… I just… I didn't…"

"Sam…" John said in that slightly threatening tone of his. Sam shook his head and bit his lip, looking away.

"Why didn't you tell us things were going so bad at school?" John demanded. Sam shrugged, refused to look his father in the eye. He could tell him that, really, it wasn't that bad. But he knew he'd be lying, and frankly, he was tired of lying. Besides, he was fairly certain his father knew that the things going on at his school were indeed that bad.

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled. John sighed and Sam scrunched his eyes shut, willing the world to go away.

"C'mon Sam," John asked, sounding a little impatient, "Just talk to me."

"They just… they don't like me," Sam whispered in shame.

"That's no excuse to try and drown you!" John exclaimed angrily.

"Ssh!" Sam hushed his father, "You'll wake Dean."

For a moment he thought his father was going to say 'Fuck Dean' and yell at Sam, but then he seemed to calm down.

"You should have told us something," he said at last, "Things shouldn't have gotten this out of hand."

"I'm sorry," he said, again.

"You're not the one who should be sorry," John mumbled angrily. Sam glanced at Dean and remembered the dream he'd had. This would be the perfect diversion, wouldn't it?

"Daddy," he said, "I know who did it."

"Did what?" John asked.

"The killings," Sam swallowed, "I know who the murderer is."

"What?" he could see his father pale a little and he suddenly wondered if he'd made a mistake. What if his father now thought he was a freak?

"I… I saw it… in a dream," he stuttered nervously. His throat suddenly hurt and he coughed softly.

"In a dream?" John repeated slowly and Sam could see him swallow, "What did you see Sammy?"

"I… it didn't always make sense," he said, "First, I dreamed of… Mia. But suddenly, I… I was the killer. I was in her head… and I… I killed all those girls… and I saw us, while we were hunting her the other night… and there was this… mirror… and I saw myself. Well, not myself, but the killer-self, which was myself in the dream but then at the same time no-"

"Sam," John snapped, effectively stopping his son's rambling, "You were inside the killer's head?"

Sam nodded shyly, "But… there was something weird… I also dreamed I killed this black girl, but no black girls died, right? … right?"

His father's scared look terrified him and he cried out in fear when his father grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"You saw a black girl die?" he asked frantically, "You killed a black girl?"

"Daddy!" Sam cried. Suddenly there was Dean, calling for his dad and pulling on the man's arms. John let go of him and sunk back in the chair, staring at his youngest with a confused and scared look in his eyes.

"Dad?" Dean asked, tentatively, "Sammy?"

"You killed the black girl?" he repeated, softer.

"I… yes?" had that been the wrong thing to say?

John got up and walked to the table, walking back with the big folder they kept the information on the case in. Dean and Sam shared a glance and Dean mouthed 'you okay?'. Sam nodded, feeling confused.

"Was this the girl, Sam?" John asked slowly, holding up a picture of a pretty black girl. There was a Prom Queen Sash around her head, making it look like an Easter egg. Just like in his dream. Panic set in his stomach, making him a little queasy.

"Y-yes," he stuttered. John fell in the chair and looked from the picture to his son and back.

"What…" Dean started, "I don't understand?"

"Your brother knows who our killer is," John said, shaking his head in an unbelieving way.

"What?" Dean asked, looking from his father to his brother, "How?"

"He saw it in a dream," John said and took a deep breath. Dean frowned and opened his mouth to ask something else. Sam looked at him with scared puppy eyes and almost invisibly shook his head. Dean's mouth snapped shut again and he sat down next to his brother, laying his hand on the kid's arm.

"It's okay, Sammy," he smiled. Sam could see he was terrified as well.

"Who was she?" Sam asked in a shaking voice.

"Her name was Leah Menken," John said, "She was last year's junior prom queen… who did it, Sam? Who is our killer?"

"I… I don't know her name," Sam whispered. He could see disappointment flood into his father's eyes, "But, she has long blonde hair and big eyes… and… and I know why she did it. Or, partly at least… she's jealous. I think. You see, all these girls, they're all important somehow, no? They're either really rich or really pretty or a cheerleader or the leader of something, like Kathrine was the head of the school newspaper and Ann was the captain of the girls swimming team… right?"

"You don't have a name?" John asked. Sam shook his head and looked at his hands, "But you think you would recognize her if you saw her at school?"

"Yes," he said, "I'm also pretty certain she's a senior. She spoke of attending an arts college next year."

"Dean," John said, "Make me a list of all female seniors taking arts classes."

Dean jumped to his feet and started the laptop. All three of them were silent, Dean composing a list, Sam resting and John impatiently staring over Dean's shoulder and tapping his fingers on the table, making his eldest nervous.

"Sam?" John gently shook his son awake when the list was finished, shoving the laptop towards the kid, "Sammy, wake up. Is she on the list? Do you recognize her name?"

Sam yawned and blinked sluggishly, rubbing a hand in his eye. His head was pounding and he had to disappoint his father, shaking his head.

"I don't know her name," he said slowly, reading all the names carefully, "I'm sorry."

"Get me pictures, Dean," John ordered. Dean nodded and carefully carried the laptop back to the table. Sam stared after him and looked at his father. When John caught his youngest staring, he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He nodded slightly, as if to say 'yeah, yeah, I know'.

"Better?" Dean asked after half an hour, handing the laptop back to his father. Now, every name was followed by a small picture of a girl.

"Sammy?" John asked. Sam stared at the screen. He could skip all not-blondes, as he had dreamed of a blonde.

"Her," Sam shouted, pointing his finger at the screen, "It's her!"

"Are you certain?" John asked. Sam nodded.

"It's her," he repeated.

"I'm proud of you boys," John said and disappeared into the bathroom. Sam watched as Dean sagged in relief, a small smile tugging at his lips. Sam smiled at him when their eyes met.

"So… eh…" Dean asked, "Who is it?"

Sam pointed at the screen and Dean's eyes grew big in surprise.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Dude," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah…" Dean mumbled, sitting down, "Just… wow... Didn't see that one coming."

"Now what?" Sam asked.

"Now we catch her," John said from the bathroom door.

- SPN -

The brothers sat next to each other in the Impala, staring at the school building. They had given Sam another day to recover before they returned, having thought out a plan to catch their murderous witch. The closer they had gotten to their school, the paler and more silent Sam had become. Now he was a pale, shivering mess in the passenger's seat.

"You okay?" Dean asked softly. Sam didn't pry his eyes away from the brick building.

"Do I have to go?" he asked, his voice slightly shaking.

"I don't want to go, Dean," he begged when his brother didn't immediately answer. He finally turned towards him, giving Dean his best puppy eyes.

"It'll be okay," Dean answered, gently brushing his fingers through Sam's hair, "I'm here now, right? We're in this together. It's almost over."

Sam nervously rubbed his fingers together, glancing from Dean to their school back to Dean.

"You've been brave," Dean whispered, wrapping a hand over Sam's, "You can do this. I know you can."

Sam looked up and sighed, nodding.

"Thank you," he mouthed. He bit his lip, once more glancing at the building, "Don't leave me?"

"I won't," Dean said. He had learned his lesson. Sam came before everything and everyone. His brother reached for the handle and started opening the door.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice stopped him and he turned around, "I love you."

He smiled and blushed, "I love you too, Dean."

Dean grinned and they climbed out of the Impala. They walked in silence, shoulder to shoulder. People stared and pointed at them, making Sam feel uncomfortable. He stared at his feet as he walked, unable to meet the stares.

"Mr. Winchester!" a stern voice sounded, the moment they entered the building. Sam tensed and Dean slowly turned around.

"Why Ms Roberts," Dean said in his I-hate-you-so-much-but-I'm-still-grinning-'cause-I'm-awesome-like-that voice, "How can we help you?"

Ms Roberts stared at him like she's just seen him swallow one of the frogs they had to dissect, "The principal would like to see you."

Sam could feel his brother tense slightly and he briefly looked up to see his face.

"Can't leave the principal waiting, can we Sammy?" he asked, flashing a grin at his brother. Sam shrugged and stared at the old hag that went by the name Ms Roberts.

"Follow me," she snapped and briskly walked away. They almost jogged to the principal, following the high click-clack noises of the hag. For an old, grey woman, she walked remarkably fast. She tapped on the door and opened it, announcing that 'Dean Winchester' was here to see the principal. Her hand snuck out and grabbed Sam's shoulder when he tried to follow his brother into the principal's office.

"No," she said brusquely, "Dean only. We'll deal with you later."

Sam stared at her with wide eyes and she stared back with equally big eyes, challenging him to throw a fuss so she could throw him out.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean said softly, briefly resting a hand on his brother's shoulder, "I'll be right back."

Sam looked up at Dean and nodded back when he nodded at him and disappeared through the door.

"You can wait over there if you like," the old hag said, pointing towards a row of chairs in the middle of the hallway. He nodded and quickly shuffled towards the green chairs. He sat down and stared at the trembling hands in his lap, swallowing thickly. He felt a little dizzy and a little sick. God, he didn't want to be here.

Just come back Dean.

He didn't know how long he sat there, wishing for his brother to come back until someone collapsed into the chair next to him with a heavy sigh, saying "Winchester."

Not Dean.

Definitely not Dean.

Sam's head snapped to the side to see Gary looking at him with an evil glare in his eyes. He jumped up from his chair as if he was electrocuted and stumbled away from the fat kid. He would have screamed for Dean, but he couldn't find his voice. Clumsily, he turned around and tried running away from the bully, tripping over his too big feet and stumbling again.

"Winchester!" Gary yelled and he could hear him get up, "Winchester! Sam, wait!"

Gary grabbed his arm and swirled him around so he had to face him. Sam was panting and his legs felt like rubber, threatening to give out from under him.

"DE-" he started to holler. He cut short when Gary pulled his hands off him and them in the air, palms facing Sam.

"Whoa!" Gary quickly said, "Calm down, okay? I won't hurt you."

Sam stared at the fat boy, every single brain cell screaming at him to run away from him.

"Really," Gary said, "Calm down… I think… you look like… maybe you should sit down…"

The fat boy pointed to the chairs and Sam's eyes flashed to the door to the principal's office. Dean still hadn't come out, and now he couldn't even see Ms Roberts anymore. Slowly, he made his way back to the ugly green chairs and sat down, staring at the other boy.

Gary said, sitting down next to him and heaving a deep sigh, "I got detention for what I did to you."

Sam pulled his shoulders up and tried to disappear like a turtle into its shield. It was his fault Gary had gotten detention, now he was going to receive a beating.

"I don't blame you, you know," Gary said, looking at him.

He was going to beat him up, oh God, he was going to… hold on, what?

"What?" Sam asked, hoarsely.

"I don't… blame you," Gary said, Sam looked up at him. Maybe he had imagined the evil glare earlier, because Gary sure didn't look evil now. Just… remorseful. Or something, "What I did was wrong. I shouldn't have bullied you, or beaten you, or… any of the things I did to you."

Sam blinked slowly, not sure he was hearing this right.

"I guess I got what I had coming," Gary shrugged, "I have detention every evening and Saturday the whole day for a month. Mia is suspended for two weeks and it's on her permanent record. But don't expect too much of it, Mia's dad is one of the big ones around here. He has a lot of influence, and it wouldn't surprise me if she was back in a week."

Sam blinked again. Everything was spinning.

"So, yeah," Gary shrugged, "Like I said: what I did was wrong. I needed a wake-up-call and that's exactly what you and Mia and the principal have given me," his eyes darted to the still closed door and Sam followed his example, "I'm sorry, okay? I don't expect you to forgive me, but… I just wanted you to know that I found my way again… thanks to you."

The door opened and Dean came out, looking pale and angry. Both boys stared at him as he rested a hand against the wall for a second and took a deep breath to calm himself down, swearing softly. His eyes flickered to the two boys in the chairs and he froze for a second, before stalking towards them.

"Sammy," he said, resting a hand on his shoulder and staring at the other boy, "Gary."

He thrust forward his other hand, pointing it towards Gary, "Thank you. I owe you."

Gary shook his head and grabbed Dean's hand, shaking it, "You don't."

"Mr. Walters," Ms Roberts shrieked, "The principal will see you now."

Gary briefly held up his hand to the brothers and trudged away from them.

"Did I miss something?" Sam asked, turning towards Dean after the door had closed with a bang.

"Oh… yeah," Dean looked over his shoulder to the closed door, "Gary saved your life, dude. He's the one who came looking for me. He's also the one who lead the jocks to the teachers. Thanks to him, they all have detention now, including himself. That Mia-bitch is suspended, by the way."

"So I've heard," Sam mumbled. Had Gary seriously saved his life? Of all people he had never expected it to be Gary.

"C'mon squirt," Dean said, leading his brother, "I'll drop you off at your class and see you in the break."

"What did the principal want from you?" Sam asked.

"He wanted to hear my version of what happened to you," Dean shrugged.

"Oh," Sam mumbled, "You mad?"

"Not at you," Dean said, "Wait for me at the cafeteria during lunch, 'kay? We'll eat together."

"Thanks Dean," Sam said and shot him a small smile. Dean ruffled his hair and left.

When he reached his locker, he saw Amy talking to one of the cheerleaders. The cheerleader's eyes darted around, as if their meeting was secret, not to be known. The cheerleader as a popular girl, probably didn't want to be caught talking to one of the Outcasts.

Amy's eyes grew big when she looked up and saw him. She said something to the cheerleader and left, almost running towards him.

"Dean!" she breathed. She made a move as if she was about to hug him and reminded herself mid-movement that she wasn't allowed to do that anymore.

"Dean," she repeated. He noticed she had a fading black eye and he slightly winced, "I didn't think you'd come back."

"I did," he said.

"How is Sam?" she asked, "Can I walk you to psychology?"

He shrugged, "Yeah, sure," truth be told, he kind of did miss her, "Sam's fine."

"You missed two days of school," she said, "I thought…" she shook her head.

"Sam's been really ill," he said in return, "but he's better now. Who were you talking to?"

"Oh, Ruth," she answered, "She's my cousin."

All these girls, they're all important somehow, no? They're either really rich or really pretty or a cheerleader or the leader of something…

Sam's words rang through his head and he looked at Amy.

"Can you do me a favor?" he asked. She nodded and he smiled, "Do you trust me?"

"I do," she answered, "I miss you too."

"Yeah," he said, uncomfortably rubbing his hand over his arm, "can you talk to… Ruth? … again? I'll tell you when and where. All you have to do next is be mean to someone."

"Why?" she asked.

"Remember my 'the killer is a witch' theory?" he asked. She nodded, "Good. We're going to catch her."

Amy looked confused, she he quickly told her about the plan.

"So… I'm… bait?" she asked nervously.

"Only if you want to," Dean said, "My dad and I will protect you. I promise, we're good at this. It's not the first time we do this."

"I'll do it," she said, sounding scared yet determined. They spotted the other Outcasts and Dean slowed down a little. Paco was sporting a fading black eye as well. His was probably a result from the whole Save-Sammy scenario.

Amy must have seen him staring, 'cause she said, "We miss you, Dean. Won't you come back?"

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "It's better if I don't. Alexis hates me anyhow."

"She doesn't hate you," Amy said, lightly touching his arm, "She just feels… kind of betrayed. She trusted you, and suddenly, you blew up in her face about choices she had made."

"I'm sorry," Dean said again.

"We're quitting, you know," Amy said, "No more witchcraft. The others have agreed. We just didn't realize how dangerous it really is."

"I respect your choices, really," Dean said, looking at the brunette walking next to him, "I just… can't. Not with what I've seen."

"If you've dealt with more killer-witches…" Amy started, "I kind of see your point."

They smiled at each other.

"Anyway, I'm going to the Outcasts," she said, "The offer still stands, feel free to join us if you want."

"Thanks, Amy," he said wholeheartedly.

"You're still our friend, Dean," she answered and walked away.

Later that day, Daniel and Alexis came to him and Sam during the last break.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Daniel asked him.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, bewildered.

"Since she talked to you and Ruth during lunch, Amy has been totally out of it," Alexis said, "It's like in some sort of trance or something."

Dean looked at Sam and back at the two Outcasts in front of them, "It has started."

"Started?" Daniel asked, "What has started?"

"You're not going to like this," Dean said, "But you have to trust me on this one."

The Outcasts blinked.

"Trust you?" Alexis started, but she was cut off by Daniel holding up his hand.

"This is Amy we're talking about," Daniel said slowly, "I swear to God, if anything happens to her…"

"I'll keep her safe, I promise," Dean said, "Daniel, I promise I'll do everything in my might to keep her from any harm."

"If anything happens to her…" Daniel said again, "You're still my friend. I've trusted you before and even though you've turned your back on us, I haven't stopped doing so. Don't make me regret it. I'm sorry to be so blunt, but Amy means more to me than you do. No offense."

"None taken," Dean said, "Thanks, Dan."

Daniel nodded and sighed, turning around.

"Did she say anything about tonight?" Dean asked.

"She's meeting Ruth tonight at 9," Daniel answered and he walked back to the other Outcasts.

"Dean," Alexis said, briefly grabbing his arm before letting go of him again, "Please don't let anything happen to her… Amy is my best friend."

"I promise," Dean said, "I'm sorry about before."

"Me too," Alexis said and she walked away from him. Sam laid a hand on his arm and together they waited for the knives to stop slicing through his heart.

It was a lot later when they arrived back at the school. It was a little before nine and Amy was nowhere to be seen. Dean swallowed nervously, caring too much about Amy to ever forgive himself if he broke the promise he'd made.

He followed his father and brother into the school, his gun drawn. Someone was talking, somewhere far away. His father and he shared a glance and they hurried forward.

"Where are we going?" they heard Amy ask when they entered the staircase.

"Almost there," a girl's voice answered. The sound of a door falling shut and the voices were gone. They ran up the stairs, not caring if their footsteps were loud.

When they burst through the door to the arts class, Dean was shocked by the scene in front of him. A blonde was sitting on top of Amy, her hands wrapped around her neck. They were glowing.

She snapped her head towards them, glaring at the intruders.

"You!" she screamed.

"You," Dean breathed. Heather Dawson, the blonde loner from his psychology class was scowling at them. Amy was making horrible choking sounds, staring pleadingly at Dean.

"Let go of her!" Dean demanded, dashing forward to save his friend.

"Stay away from me!" Heather screamed and she unwrapped one of her hands to point towards him.

Dean didn't know what was happening. One moment he was making his way towards Amy and Heather, the next he was flying through the air, his arms and legs flailing. He banged against the wall and he slid down to the floor, dizzy and disoriented. Someone was yelling his name.

Sam fell down to his knees next to him, small hands invading his personal space and feeling up his neck and face.

"Dean," Sam begged, "Dean, say something!"

"S'm," he mumbled, he blinked and waited for his surroundings to come into focus again. Amy was staring at him wide-eyed, still making those horrible choking noises, "'m fine."

He pushed himself up with a groan and Sam had to support him for a second when he lost balance and almost face-planted.

"Get off me, bitch," Dean gently shoved Sam's hands away, bringing his other hand to his head, "Amy…"

Dad and Heather were in the middle of a shouting match. Dad had his gun pointed at the witch's head and Heather's hands glowed stronger. Amy started crying.

She was concentrated on dad and Amy was still dying. He had to stop her. This was his chance.

He leapt forward and punched Heather in the face. Together, they toppled off Amy and he could hear her take a deep, shaky breath before she started coughing, fully sobbing now.

"Dean," someone shouted as Heather's hands closed around his arms and started glowing.

He screamed in agony. It felt as if everything inside him was on fire. He banged his head against the floor several times, but the pain wouldn't go away. In contrary, it only grew stronger. With a jolt, he realized she was melting him.

Heather was screaming in his face, but he didn't understand a word of what she was saying over his own pained cries. He swore he could hear dad and Sam screaming as well, and maybe even Amy.

Then it was over. Heather disappeared from his line of view and the pain gradually lessened, leaving him panting on the floor. Amy appeared in front of him, all bruises and tears and then he was in her arms, as she was shaking and sobbing.

"Dean," she blubbered. Dean wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

She cried louder, clinging to him. After a few minutes, her sobs died away and she was just shaking, her head resting on Dean's shoulder. Dean watched as Sam and dad struggled with the evil witch-bitch.

"I have to help them," he mumbled.

"Help them," Amy answered and let go of him. He dizzily climbed to his feet. Amy held up her hand and he grabbed it to keep himself upright.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Dad slammed the evil witch-bitch's head against the floor and she stopped struggling, staring at him drowsily.

"You don't know," she slurred, "You don't know what it is like."

"You killed 8 girls," dad said, "You almost killed 9."

"I did," she answered, "They had it coming."

"You killed 8 innocent girls," dad growled.

"Innocent," Heather snorted, repeating: "You don't know what it is like."

"What what is like?" dad snapped impatiently.

"They bullied me!" Heather pushed herself up a little so she wasn't lying down anymore, "I've lived here my entire life and ever since I started middle school, everyone has been ignoring me. No one has spoken a word to me in years!"

Tears sprang to her eyes, "And then Zoey Harris came to this school. And she taught me about witchcraft. She taught me stuff, but she didn't know what she was doing. Didn't know what she had started. Witchcraft brings such power. Finally, I could punish them for what they'd done to me. For ignoring me all these years. People finally noticed me. Noticed what I did."

"This ends now," dad growled and he cocked his gun, pointing it between the girl's eyes.

"Dad, no!" Sam yelled and he pushed his hands away.

"Sam," dad warned him.

"No," Sam repeated, "Don't kill her…"

"Sam," dad said again, "What are you doing?"

"Don't you see?" he asked, "She's just lonely. Lonely and crazy, but lonely. They bullied her into doing this, dad."

Dad blinked. Dean had to sit down again, still feeling a bit shaky from the inside-melting and flying into walls.

"There has to be another way," Sam begged, "Can't we call the police?"

"She's a witch, Sam," dad said, "If she was a regular girl, sure, we could call the police. But as long as she's a witch, she'd be able to bust out of prison."

"Can't you remove her witchcraft or something?" Sam asked, tears filling his eyes.

"You can't remove someone's witchcraft, Sam," dad sighed.

"Actually, you can," Amy's shaky, hoarse voice interrupted. Dean glanced sideways.

"I know witchcraft comes from books and all and everyone can learn it," she said, "But you have a magical core. You need that core to be able to perform witchcraft."

"See," Sam was staring at dad with wide-eyes.

"How do you remove the magical core?" dad asked Amy.

"Witchcraft," she whispered.

"Can you remove it?" he asked. She glanced at Dean.

"I thought you said no more witchcraft?" she softly asked, "I see now witchcraft really is evil."

"It wouldn't be evil to use your powers to stop a murderer," dad answered softly. She bit her lip and stared at Dean.

"Can you do it?" he asked her.

"I think so," she answered. Dean grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"NO!" Heather screamed.

"Whenever you're ready, Amy," dad said softly.

"Thank you," Sam mouthed. Amy gave him a small smile and got to her feet. Dad grabbed her arm when she stumbled.

"I'm fine," she said, "Just a bit shaky. Can you hold her hands?"

Sam and dad each grabbed one of Heather's wrists and held them behind her back.

"NO!" she screamed again.

"I'm sorry you're so sad," Amy whispered and she placed her hands on each side of Heather's head. Her eyes closed and her hands started glowing, like Heather's had.

Heather's back arched and she struggled so hard Dean had to help Sam keep her arms away from Amy. When it was over, both girls sagged and collapsed.

"Amy!" Dean shouted, crawling to her, "Can you hear me? Amy!"

"I'm fine," she mumbled, opening her eyes.

"Did it work?" Sam and dad asked in unison.

"I think so," she mumbled.

"Thank you," Sam whispered and hugged her briefly, "Thank you."

Heather was crying, realizing she was a no one again and there was no way on earth she was ever going to be able to perform witchcraft again.

"Are you okay?" dad asked Amy. She nodded shakily, "Okay. We need to go. Call the cops, tell them Heather tried to strangle you and she confessed all the murders. Don't mention witchcraft. Don't mention us."

"Are you leaving for good?" she asked. Dad nodded. She glanced at Dean.

"Thank you, Dean," she said.

"Thank you," Dean mumbled. Dad and Sam looked away to give them some privacy as they hugged.

"No more witchcraft," she promised. He laughed.

"Tell the others I'm sorry," he asked, "and tell 'm 'thank you'."

"I will," she smiled, "Bye Dean."

"Bye Amy," he whispered.

The three Winchesters got up and left the arts class, closing the door with a bang, leaving the two witches behind.

That's all folks... I hope you liked it! I'm both excited and sad that it's over :) I really hope the last chapter didn't let you down :)

First of all: a special thank you to Tali, one of my BFF's ^^ not only did she write the poem I used a few chapters back, she also doesn't watch SPN, yet she loves to hear me plot ^^ I told her everything about this story and she gave me lots of advice. Without her, I wouldn't have been able to write the end ^^ She helped me a great deal with that.

Second: thank you to all you lovely people who have read and reviewed The Lonely. I reached 200 reviews yesterday, YAY! Think we can make it 300? ^^ I still love to hear all your thoughts on this story, whether you read this in 2011 or 2031 ^^ Every review makes my day :D

Third: I now have twitter! Buuut I can't really work with it yet :p I'm figuring out how to use the at en hashtag ^^ If only one of you could explain how to use those cute small hyperlinks instead of long ones and how to add a photo and have a photo-album :D If you want to follow me, just look for LuneCorvin ^^

Fourth: I READ ON TWITTER THAT MISHA IS COMING BACK TO SPN :D :D yaaaay ^^

Fifth: I saw last week's episode and I cried SO HARD! Damn you SPN, for making me cry like a baby! This is seriously the only tv series ever to make me cry ^^

Was there something else I needed to say? Probably ^^

Oh yes! Did anyone see it coming that it was Heather? She was in the story, you know ;)

And another thing I remember ^^ Just a fun-fact ^^ Paco was the name of my first dog. We had to do him away when I was 4 because he was aggressive. I cried really hard when my parents decided to give him away to someone else. He died a couple of years ago, when he ran under a car. I have a new dog now :) her name is Jirka and she's the sweetest French Bulldog you can imagine ^^

Anyway, thank you guys. You are amazing!

I love you,

- Lune x