A/N:

Happy Valentine's Day! To celebrate (since I have no love life), I'm writing this fic. I only got this idea last night, though I will be posting throughout today – I'm not sure yet how long it'll be, but I will finish it today. Enjoy, and have a great day – I hope y'all have someone to spend it with and that he/she brings you chocolates and watches Netflix with you, you geeks :)


As per usual, Sam and Dean Winchester were hanging about in the Men of Letters bunker. It was late morning, and slices of warm orange sunlight would have cut through the windows, that is, if there were any windows in the gloomy bat-cave. Instead, the comforting touch of natural light was segregated from the brothers, cut off from them as they basked in darkness. Well, not complete darkness – mostly metaphorical, of course.

Dean was just freshening up while Sam surfed 'Searchtheweb' for cases. As the older brother casually meandered out of the bathroom with a towel hanging around his neck, the younger one beckoned him over.

"Hey, Dean, check this out." Sam angled the computer screen so his brother could see it clearly, though Dean stooped slightly nonetheless.

"What is it, Sammy? Think you found us a case?" He inquired, his inquisitive apple-green eyes searching Sam's face intensely for any flicker of emotion that might reveal how well he currently felt, since Dean was generally always concerned about his baby brother. After hastily studying his features like a high school student revising work for finals, the hunter came to the conclusion that Sam seemed pretty okay at the moment – his eyes were bright, though slightly tired, and he appeared to be upbeat and content with how they were coping for a change. A change for the better.

"Maybe." Sam's reply slashed through Dean's reverie, snapping him back to the present. The younger brother took a sip of coffee from the mug resting on the mahogany table next to him before continuing, getting straight down to business. "Lincoln, Nebraska. Ten people have gone missing in the last few days alone. No particular type: mixed genders, most are different ages, et cetera. The strange thing is, they have all gone missing in pairs, even though they weren't always together, in person, at the time." Sam angled the laptop back towards himself as he read more detail. "Most recent victims are Gary Broadbent and Cassia Winters, disappeared last night at around half ten. Wanna check it out? It could be a vengeful spirit, maybe vamps."

"Both of those would just kill though, right? And it doesn't seem like much of an M.O. for a ghost. I don't know, Sammy. I don't really see a case here…" Dean's cynicism resurfaced fairly quickly.

Sam sighed. "Come on, man. We've been cooped up in here for like a week now, I really need to work. Plus, it's February 14th today. You know what that means, right?" When acknowledging his brother's puzzled expression, Sam carried on, his puppy-dog eyes subconsciously becoming prominent. "Valentine's Day? If we stay here the whole time, you have no chance of hooking up. Unattached drifter Christmas, remember?"

The reaction was immediate. Dean's eyebrows shot up and his eyes wandered off as he smirked, day dreaming about the possibility of getting laid. Also, he figured it was best for Sam, if he wanted to hunt, which must also mean he was feeling much better. If Sammy was happy, then so was he.

"Sure thing, Sammy. Right, pack your things. And suit up. We might as well talk to the victims' families once we arrive." As the older Winchester scuttled away to load up the Impala, the younger one smiled to himself. His brother was hilarious, though he'd never admit that he thought this to Dean, of course.

Around four hours later the infamous sleek yet honest car, black as Alaskan sealskin, pulled up outside the quaint home of Gary's mother (one of the victims). Both brothers had donned their FBI suits after checking in to a cheap motel, though Dean had selected a plain navy-blue tie, whereas Sam's was blood red, adorned with stripes. They prepared their FBI badges on the doorstep as Dean rang the doorbell, waiting for an answer. They weren't waiting for long.

"What can I do for you?" A puffy-eyed woman in her late forties asked as she laid eyes on the boys.

"Afternoon, ma'am. I'm Agent Gillan, this is my partner Agent Glover – we're with the FBI. We just need to ask you a few questions about your son's disappearance, if that's alright." It was Sam's turn to reel off the generic 'we're cops, answer our questions please' speech.

"I, uh, already spoke to the police, many times." The lady answered, though the brothers were prepared for such a reply.

"Of course, we just need to follow up, if you don't mind." Dean cut in smoothly. Gary's mother soon invited them in, however her responses to each of their specific questions didn't aid their attempts to narrow down what type of monster could have potentially taken the people. As they strolled out of the house and down the path, the older brother spoke what they were both thinking.

"Sam, I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure there's no case here. We have absolutely no evidence of any supernatural activity. Maybe this time it really is just people."

But Sam refused to give up. "Okay, yeah, you're probably right. But can we at least check out the crime scene first? There might be clues, something we've missed…"

After a brief moment of hesitation, Dean replied. "Sure. I don't see why not." The younger brother revealed a grin of gratitude as he led the way back to the Impala.

By the time they arrived at the scene of the disappearance, it was late afternoon/early evening, therefore dusk was just beginning to creep out of the shadows. A couple of cops were lurking about the place, so Sam headed over to them first, while Dean hung back, pacing about and studying the pavement for clues.

"Evening officers. Agent Glover, FBI. What can you tell us about the disappearance cases so far?" The younger Winchester inquired professionally.

"Well, Agent, there's not much to go on. Apparently a couple of other people a few states across went missing at the same time some days previous. And when we talked to the families to ask for any changes, the missing girls had all had haircuts the day before going missing. CCTV was wiped, so we have no idea who took them. Other than that, we got nothing." The female cop replied. The man next to her whispered something in her ear just after she finished talking. "Oh, yeah, my partner just reminded me – we did find something, just a little clue, at all the crime scenes so far. There were a few red petals scattered around where the victims had disappeared. Rose petals, so we think. Probably means nothing to you, Agent, but there you go."

"Rose petals…" Sam muttered to himself, trying to think of what creature would leave such a thing, however he came to no conclusion. "Alright, thanks for your help, Officer." Turning away, he grabbed Dean's arm, gesturing for them to return to the car.

"Anything?" Dean questioned.

Sam shook his head. "A few rose petals were found at each point of disappearance, and girls have been having haircuts, but that's all." He sighed as they clambered into the Impala. "Look, you can go have a drink if you want – I'll head back to the motel, see if I can find anything on rose petals. We could maybe see if there's a connection with the hairdressers tomorrow."

"You sure? You can come with if you want."

"No, I'm fine. Kind of in the research mood, I guess. You should go though. It's Valentine's. When was the last time you hooked up anyway?" Sam couldn't resist a dig at his brother.

"Shut up." Dean looked slightly offended, but smiled at his brother soon after. "Thanks, man."

"No problem."

The rattle of the Impala's engine fired up as Sam drove back to the motel, eager to find at least something to show there was a case; he hated travelling for no reason and his research not coming to fruition. Meanwhile, Dean mustered up a cocky smirk for any lonely lady he hoped to meet in the bar to which he was headed. However, before he even rounded the corner of the puddled pavement which gracefully reflected the limited moonlight, he was distracted by a flight of doves abruptly gathering overhead.

"What the hell?" He uttered under his breath. What were doves doing there at that time of night, especially that many of them? They were completely silent, apart from the delicate flutter of wings they emitted. For a moment, it seemed as if they were about to bombard the hunter, and he raised his arms to protect his head, but mere seconds later, they were gone.

"O-kaaay…" Dean was vaguely freaked out, though his fear rapidly dissipated as he quickened his pace. Yet again, he was interrupted, though this time it seemed more severe. A glorious white light appeared before him, encompassing him completely. Though it should have rung major alarm bells, all Dean felt was pure comfort, bordering on elation as the light swallowed him up. The last thing he could sense as he vanished was a cloud of sweet scented perfume…