(A/N)-Hey guys! I'm back! Welcome to the sequel of "I Will Follow You Into the Dark"! I probably won't be able to update as often as I would like, but I figured, we're halfway through hellatus, might as well post! I actually don't know how this story will end-the end of season 6 threw me for a loop-so I'm trying to time it so I don't have to post the final chapters until after season 7 starts. Um, yeah, that's about it. If you guys want a REALLY good Cas/OC story, go check out Maat's profile, because let me tell you, her OC Eli is kick-ass, and it's just a great series of stories. Seriously, go read it. Thanks for sticking around for the sequel, and I hope you guys enjoy "We'll Get By But We Don't Know How". (And, as always, I don't own Supernatural or any of the songs I use as titles.)


"That's easy!" Lydia Carmichael rolled her eyes. "Knife dipped in lamb's blood."

Bobby Singer narrowed his eyes from across the table. Lydia simply smirked and leaned back in her chair. She motioned at the shot glasses sitting in front of him. "Your turn. Bottom's up."

"Damn girl…" Bobby reached for one of the shots and downed it quickly as he could. "Just remember, I know more than you ever will."

Lydia snorted in the most un-ladylike way possibly. "Yeah right, old man. You're losing your touch." She was bluffing, and they both knew it. There was no way she knew more about supernatural creatures then he did, but it was still part of the fun.

"Your turn, wise ass." Bobby shot back at her.

Lydia thought for a second, twirling her now-short and jet-black hair. "Um… rugaru."

"Burn it." Bobby cracked a smile and motioned for her to drink one of the shots, a smirk lighting up his face. "Your turn. Bottom's up."

Lydia took the shot, still smiling, even though Bobby was clearly mocking her. She had to admit, a drinking game was a strange method to quiz her on how to kill different creatures, but that was Bobby's way of teaching, so Lydia never complained. And either way, they both got drunk by the end of the night. It was a win-win situation for both of them. So back and forth they went, trying to stump each other.


"Salt and burn. Shapeshifter?"

"Nothing special. A bullet'll do it. Werewolf?"

"Silver bullet. Wendigo?"

"Fire. Zombie?"

"Silver." Bobby stopped and stared at Lydia before slowly saying, "Trickster?"

Lydia froze-a major brain fart was in progress. She couldn't for the life of her remember how to kill a Trickster. Oh well, blame it an the alcohol.

"I dunno!" Lydia admitted defeat, much to Bobby's delight.

Bobby handed her three shot glasses, glee etched all over his face. "Wooden stake to the heart. Drink up, buttercup."

Lydia took all three shots, wincing as the alcohol raced down her throat. That was the game; they would go back and forth testing each other. Each time the person being quizzed got it right, the person who asked took a shot. Whenever they were stumped-that person was always Lydia-that person had to take three shots. It was unconventional at best, but after a month of living at Bobby's, conventional had no meaning.

Lydia looked up at the clock, blinking a few times as the room started spinning. "Shit, I gotta go!" Lydia stood up and almost fell over, scrambling to get to her bedroom.

"Where're you going?" Bobby called after her. By the sound of his voice, he was just as buzzed as she was.

Lydia almost fell to the floor as she was getting into her miniskirt. "Where do ya think? Work!"

Almost two minutes later, Lydia was racing down the stairs, struggling to put her boots on. Bobby took one look at her and said with an unmistakable slur in his voice, "I thought I told you to give up that stripping shit!"

Lydia racked her brain and found that she couldn't remember if he did or didn't. Whatever. "No you didn't!" Lydia protested. "You said to stop if it didn't bring home any money!"

"I did no such thing!" By the time Bobby had finished his sentence, Lydia had slammed the door behind her and was getting into one of the many cars in the junkyard. Probably wasn't the greatest decision, but she and Bobby hadn't used strong alcohol. They were just buzzed, not drunk. Lydia started the car, and after doing her makeup quickly, she pulled out of the driveway and was on the road to the local strip joint.

It was hard to believe how much her life had changed in only a month. After coming back to Bobby's after Sam went to hell, Lydia was in her own personal hell. Cas had ditched her, Dean was off living with his girlfriend and her kid, Sam was gone, and Bobby was without a soul. Not that it had mattered to her when she got there; Lydia was as high as a kite when she found herself on Bobby's doorstep. After that, it was a giant blur. The next time Lydia woke up, she was downstairs in the panic room, Bobby yelling about detox or something. And true to his word, she detoxed, right there in the panic room. It was even worse than the first time, but it had worked, and after a week, Lydia was back and more determined then ever to become a hunter.

Lydia winced as she pulled into the parking lot of the strip joint, not looking forward in the slightest to go in there. This place was even worse than Rick's place, but after Bobby was yelling at her one night to pull her own weight, Lydia had gotten a job here, at Dave's. Dave, the man himself, was a womanizing dick, but if it paid the bills, it paid the bills. Besides, this was just a side job; hunting is what Lydia engrossed herself in. It almost became an obsession for her, reading about demons, shooting the target in the backyard, finding out about vampires and shapeshifters and every other type of creature. There was nothing left for her in the world, so she might as well kill some evil shit before she kicked the bucket. Part of it, she assumed, was spite. She had promised Castiel that she wouldn't ever get involved in the life of a hunter, but Cas had gone back on his word. She was going back on hers to. He hadn't come down from heaven since that night in May, but Lydia had a feeling that he would eventually come back to Earth and see what she had been doing for the past month. In a way, it felt good, imagining what a rise she could get out of him when he found out what she was doing.

Lydia went into the club, did what she had to do, and came out six hours later with a few hundred bucks in her pocket. It felt so freaking good, actually having money, but that club always made her feel like she needed to bathe in Holy Water. She drove back to Bobby's, pulling into the driveway at almost three in the morning. When she got into the house, Bobby was asleep at his desk. Lydia crept upstairs and locked the bathroom door, stripping her clothes off and staring at her naked figure in the mirror, her back in particular. Bobby had made her get an anti-possession tattoo, and she had chosen to get it on her lower back, like a tramp stamp. It was kind of unique and pretty, in a weird, demented sort of way, so she didn't really mind it. Staring at her reflection almost always gave Lydia the creeps; most people probably wouldn't have recognized her. She had lost even more weight after going through withdrawal again, but Lydia was slowly starting to gain weight back and looked almost like a healthy normal being. Her skin was on its way to improvement, the bags under her eyes were gone, her hair was in a bob and black, and muscle was starting to develop. Her eyes, however, were dark and devoid of emotion. She had tried to keep it that way since coming to Bobby's, tried to keep herself as detached from everything and everyone as possible.

She knew Bobby would probably yell at her for showering this late at night-the pipes in the house were as loud as all hell-but Lydia felt disgusting. She stepped in the warm water and let the smell of the club wash off of her. After a while, Lydia turned off the water and dried off. There was no need to dry her hair-her hair dried as straight as a pin, and Bobby had no need to own a hair dryer-so Lydia just put on one of Bobby's old flannel shirts and a pair of shorts. She had gone back to her old apartment in Iowa to get her old clothes and belongings, but she still liked the way the plaid shirt felt. Collapsing on her bed, Lydia fell asleep almost instantly. That was the usual routine of her life now, living at Bobby's, and she liked it. That was her last thought as she fell asleep…


Lydia groaned and opened her eyes, surprised when sunlight streamed through her windows. It felt like she had just shut her eyes, but apparently she had fallen asleep. Looking at the alarm clock next to her bed, she saw that it was only nine in the morning. She rolled over with the intention of going back to sleep-six hours was so not enough…

"Lydia! Get your ass out here!"

Lydia groaned again and stood up, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she did so. She slowly walked downstairs, grumbling and cursing Bobby under her breathe. What was so freakin' important that it couldn't wait until noon…?

And that's when she saw Sam Winchester standing in the kitchen.