XxXxX Chapter One XxXxX

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Tru Calling.

Sam could feel the bright light receding before he even looked up. He didn't dare look up, not after watching his brother be torn to shreds in front of him. Not after watching as Lillith, in Ruby's host, opened her hand to a blinding light towards him.

It took him all of two seconds to lower his hands from in front of his face, mostly out of curiosity. His face scrunched in confusion as he stood up from his huddled position on the floor. The look on Lillith's borrowed face matched his expression from moments before, until realization mixed with rage stole across his features.

"Back," Lillith commanded, holding her hand out in front of her.

Sam let out a deep breath as he came towards her, his features set as his gaze locked onto hers.

"I said back," Lillith commanded once more, fear creeping into her voice. She watched as Sam knelt down, right in front of her, and picked up Ruby's knife, putting it into his right hand and holding it over his head.

"I don't think so," he murmured, raising the knife higher and bringing it down to where she was standing, ready to send her back to the hell where she had sent his brother.

Lillith could see the glint coming off of the knife as her failed powers were doing nothing to stop Sam's revenge. Thinking quickly she threw her head back, her demonic essence escaping Ruby's useless host as Sam stumbled backwards in surprise. He watched, helplessly, as Lillith's black smoke rushed out of Ruby's mouth and escaped through a vent directly above her, as the body she had been possessing slumped to the ground next to his lifeless brother.

Sam looked down at the bloody remains of his brother, his face twisting in horror and grief. His eyes welled up as he kneeled down next to his body, tenderly taking his head in his hands. "No." He looked down into the lifeless dead eyes staring up at him as his tears began to fall freely. "No. Dean," he coughed out.

"Sam?" Sam's gaze tore away from brother as he looked up, hopeful at the voice that was asking for him. "Sam, oh my god," Bobby muttered, rushing through the doorway of the house in New York that Bobby's ritual had pointed them to.

"Bobby. I can't…What do I do?" Sam gasped out, one of his hands cradling his brother's head as the other clutched tightly onto Bobby.

"She got away, didn't she? Lillith?" Bobby surmised, not even needing an answer. He placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as he looked around, "we have to get out of here, Sam."

"No," Sam growled out, knocking his hand off of his shoulder. "I'm not leaving him," Sam said, crouching back down next to his brother.

Compassion flooded Bobby's eyes as he looked around the house they were in. He could vaguely hear the sirens that he knew were on their way. "Sam, you have to listen to me, alright? When Lillith fled, so did her demonic army, ok? That's an entire neighborhood full of confused people waking up and panicking," Bobby explained to him.

"Why the hell should I care?" Sam spit out.

"Because at least one of those panicked people called the police, Sam. You and I aren't prepared to explain all of this to the cops," Bobby sternly told him. "Now, I mean it, we have to leave right now." Bobby ground out, pulling Sam away from his brother.

"No, not without Dean," Sam told him, jerking out of his grasp. He stood as tall as he could in front of his surrogate father and pointed his finger in Bobby's face. "How can you ask me to leave my brother?" How could you ask me to just leave him here?"

"You think this is any easier for me?" Bobby hissed, knocking Sam's finger out of his face. "Now look, any moment the cops are gonna be here. The same cops that think you and Dean are dead. Yes, they'll find his body. But, they will take it to the morgue, ok?" Bobby reasoned, he calmed down slightly as Sam's features relaxed. "We can get him from there. I promise you that we'll have him back by sun-up," Bobby said, his gaze darting out of the windows at the flashing police lights. "Sam, they're here, we have to go."

"Bobby," Sam sighed out, a new batch of tears blurring his view of the blue and red lights flashing across the living room they were occupying. "I can't just leave him here. He's my brother."

"And he was like a son to me. Just like you are. If I couldn't save him, then the least I can do is save you," Bobby hissed, grabbing onto the front of his shirt and pulling him to the house's backdoor . "Trust me when I say that we'll get his body back."


"Hey, got a fresh one here," Carl yelled, wheeling a covered gurney into the common room of the morgue. "Is there anybody here?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," Tru yelled back as she slipped on her white coat. "Hey, Carl. How's the first week going?"

"It's different," Carl told her, stopping the gurney and putting on the brakes. "I really thought it would be the same old kind of pickups before tonight," he told her nodding down at the covered body. "Hey, where's Davis?"

"Uh, yeah, it's just me tonight. I talked Davis into taking the night off," Tru told Carl as she pulled out a tray of utensils. She looked up as Davis entered the crypt, giving him a knowing smile as he stopped in front of them.

"Look, I had a really rough night," Davis said, by way of explanation. He held up his hands, hoping that would placate any questions Tru had for him.

"So rough, in fact, that you thought the morgue would fix it all?" Tru asked with a smile. Her smile grew at Davis' sheepish shrug. "Well, now that you're here, care to take over? Carl was just telling me that this pickup was a bit different."

"I was?" Carl asked, taking a seat away from them in the office and turning on the TV.

"Yeah, you said you thought the job would be the same before tonight," Tru reminded him as she handed a pair of gloves to Davis.

"Oh yeah, well, back in Texas we had animal attacks all the time, but I've never seen a body that torn up," Carl told her, pointing at the sheet covered body in reference.

"Then I guess now's about as good a time as any to take a look," Tru said with a shrug as Davis reached over and pulled the sheet down, folding it over on the body's torso.

Tru looked down at the dried blood pooled across the midsection of the body. "Oh my god," she whispered, handing over a few instruments to Davis. "Carl, did they say what kind of animal did this?"

"Best the cops could guess was a dog," Carl threw over his shoulder, never taking his eyes off of Wheel of Fortune.

"What do you mean, guess?" Tru asked, cutting away at the bloody clothes still covering the body.

Carl hit the mute button and turned around, shrugging his shoulders at her. "By the time I had the body loaded, they still hadn't found the animal responsible."

"So, it's still out there?" Tru asked in disbelief. "Good to know I'll getting a peaceful sleep later on."

"Yeah, well, I think we can rule out a dog," Davis spoke up, his face hunched down next to the body as he pulled away material and bagged it. "These claw marks are far too deep for it to have been any kind of dog or a coyote. I'd be half tempted to say a bear if this wasn't New York City."

"Well, whatever it was, they'll catch it. One of the cops told me that they had every dog catcher in the city on this. It might take a bit, but they'll stop it from attacking anyone else," Carl told them as he turned off the TV. "Look, I'm gonna head back out, call me if you guys need anything."

"Sure thing, see you later," Tru called, her attention on the new corpse in the morgue. "Should I go ahead and get his personal items bagged?" She asked, turning her attention back to Davis.

"Uh, sure, this all seems pretty cut and dry anyways, even without an autopsy," Davis answered, taking off his rubber gloves.

"So then, cause of death…?" Tru began, reaching over him and taking off the necklace resting on his chest. She looked down at it, arching her eyebrow at the little statue hanging from it before putting it into a plastic bag.

"Well, he clearly died of blood loss," Davis said, letting out a deep sigh as he pulled off the ring on his right hand and gave it to Tru. "Look, do you think you can get him tagged and put away? I kinda wanna get a jumpstart on that paperwork," Davis told her.

"I can definitely do all that, but you aren't touching that paperwork. It's your night off. If you're gonna make me take one, then I'm gonna return the favor," Tru said, patting him on the back. She smiled as Davis' face pinched into a frustrated expression as she lead him to the elevators. "If it makes you feel better, I promise that the morgue will be here when you come in tomorrow."

"Yeah, if tomorrow actually gets here," Davis threw over his shoulder as Tru pushed him into the elevator. "Just call me if you need anything, ok?"

"You got it," she told him as the doors slammed shut. She turned back towards the empty corridor, running a quick hand through her hair before walking back towards the crypt. "Ok, now to get Mr. Meaty put away and do that paperwork."


The morgue was deathly quiet, as Tru leaned over Davis' computer, entering in the files they had been putting off for the last week. "Should I stay or should I go now…" Tru sang to herself, chuckling slightly at the song that was stuck in her head. "If I go there would be trouble…And if I stay it could be double…"

She stopped singing, her attention jumping as someone quickly walked past the office. "Hey, wait. You there," Tru shouted, getting up from the desk and jogging to the doorway. She walked into the hallway as a tall guy stopped in front of her, his back turned to her as he clenched his fist quickly before relaxing his entire body. "Um, can I help you?"

He turned around, his face splotchy as he wiped at his nose. "Uh, yeah, actually." He stopped for a second, trying to regain his voice before speaking again. "My brother's body was brought in here earlier. Dean Winchester?"

Tru nodded her head, doing a mental inventory of the few bodies that had been brought in on her shift before shaking it at him. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize that name. He could have been brought here before my shift started, or we didn't find any identification and put him down as a John Doe. Are you completely sure he was brought to this morgue?" Tru asked, walking towards him.

"Yeah, this was the morgue they brought him to. If it helps, he was killed by an animal," he told her, his voice strained with emotion.

Tru's eyes softened at the grief this man was going through at the loss of his brother. She remembered when Harrison had died, before he asked her for help, and how lost she felt. "Actually, a body was brought in that matches that cause of death. We didn't find any identification, so you'll have to identify the body before you can fill out the paperwork for the body's removal and to get his personal items." Tru said, wincing at the hurt look that flitted across his features.

"Yeah, I understand. I'll do it," he said, not moving from the spot he was standing at.

"Ok, then. If you just follow me," Tru began, motioning for him to follow her. "Then, we can get this part over with."

"Sure, thanks," he told her, his voice changing to a hollow tone as he walked towards her.

Tru turned back around, leading him into the crypt with her for the ID. "Alright, well, you can take a seat if you want, I just have to get the slab pulled out," she explained to him. Her brow furrowed in sympathy as he ignored her, typing something on his cell phone instead.

She walked over to the recently filled locker and opened it up, pulling out the rolling slab that the body was on. She moved the sheet down away from his face before turning back around to face the body's brother. Her eyes went wide as the first thing to flood her vision was a gun being pointed directly at her. The grieving man in front of her was looking behind her at his brother's body, but still managed to have the gun expertly trained on her. She raised her hands, backing away from the gun wielder and towards the body, "what the hell?"

"Look, I'm not going to hurt you," Sam told her as he moved to where his brother's body was laying. He kept the gun pointed at her on the opposite side of where he was standing, her hands up in surrender. "I'm just here to get my brother," he informed her, not even looking up at her.

Tru looked down at the gun's barrel that was pointed at her, vaguely wondering if this was how her mother had felt when that gun had been trained on her all those years ago. She could feel sweat beginning to roll down her forehead as her breathing became shallow.

"Look, I promise that I won't hurt you," Sam told her as he looked up at her with tired eyes. It was bad enough that he had lost his brother tonight and had to steal his body, but now he was scaring the wits out of some innocent girl stuck with the night shift.

"Really, you're not going to hurt me?" She managed to not roll her eyes as the man in front of her nodded his head in the affirmative. "Even if I don't let you take this body?" Tru asked, her voice betraying the bravery she was trying to portray.

Sam's expression turned to one of surprise as he looked up at her, noticing that her eyes were locked on his gun and not him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I cannot and will not let you take this body," Tru repeated to him, trying very hard to keep her voice from shaking.

"Look, I'm really sorry that this all has to go down like this, but you really don't have a choice on me taking him," Sam told her. "He died because of me, and I'm not gonna let some city officials rule out his life and bury him in a shallow grave next to the John Doe's of New York City."

"Yeah, well, I'm not gonna let some guy with a gun come in here and steal a body. Especially when you could just be some sicko that's here to steal a random body," Tru said, her hands still held up.

"Sam, are you almost done?" They heard coming from his pocket. Sam rolled his eyes as he switched the gun to the other hand and pulled out a cell phone/walkie talkie.

"I am, we'll be down in just a second," he spoke into it, never taking his eyes off of the girl in front of him.

"Don't count on it," Tru said before narrowing her eyes. "I already told you, I'm not going to let you…

"Tru"

Tru stopped talking, her eyes tearing away from the gun on her to the body just below her. She looked back up at the man in front of her, his eyes wide as he looked down at his brother's body, his arm going slack enough for the gun to drop to his side. "What the hell…? Did he just…?"

"Sam"

Tru looked from the body to the man standing in front of her, her face twisted in shock and surprise. "Did he just say your name too?"

"He's supposed to be dead," Sam answered. They locked gazes before looking back down at the body. Almost instantly, Dean's pale arms shot out and grabbed each of their arms, his eyes opening wide.

"I need you. The both of you. Help me!"

Tru looked back up as Sam began to rewind away from her, the image of his shocked face falling away from her as the day restarted.

Author's Note: This story was originally posted, but I took it down to revamp it. I actually posted it before the season finale of Supernatural, and I didn't like that the story went so against the actual show. I'm actually really excited to be doing this one story again, and I hope everyone enjoys.