"Hey, Dean, I think I found us a case," Sam said with a hint of surprise evident in his voice. He was seated at the small table in their run-down motel room. Dean, who had been flipping through the paper while lounging on the bed, quickly made his way to peer over his brother's shoulder at the computer screen. The headline read as follows: "Three Bodies of Esteemed Officials Found Dead."

"That just sounds like a plain old serial killer," Dean replied.

"No, if you kept reading, you would have seen that the victims had words tattooed onto their chests. Apparently, they were accusations for crimes that had gone unsolved," explained Sam.

Dean feigned surprise at his brother's sarcastic tone, but nonetheless stated, "Let's hit the road, sounds like we have work to do," as he slung his duffel over his shoulder, "I'm tired of this place."

Sam rolled his eyes and closed his laptop, quickly packing it away before following Dean out the door.

The brothers didn't arrive at their destination until the following morning, and they chose to get to work. After they stopped at a motel and changed into attire more appropriate for FBI agents, they headed to the latest crime scene.

"Ok, so the victim is Daniela Olasz, and she seems to have been killed in her office where she worked. We should check for security footage," Sam said offhandedly while reading through the file. He knew Dean wasn't really paying attention. Dean found reading through the file before arriving at the crime scene to be pointless. Why read through the file when you can just see it in person? Dean sighed, and he just let Sam do his thing. It seemed to make him feel better.

They parked across the street and made their way into the building, flashing their fake badges at the security. They met up with an officer stationed outside of the room in which the crime took place. He gave them a puzzled expression until they simultaneously flashed their badges.

"FBI. I am Agent Bonham, and this is my partner, Agent Jones," Dean authoritatively stated.

"Right this way," the officer said as he motioned them to follow him into the room. With the officer's back turned, Dean wiggled his eyebrows at Sam and gave him a smirk. Sam gave him a reproving glare. He had not wanted to use the Led Zeppelin based badges, but Dean had insisted because they had listened to some of their album on the way.

Upon entering the room, both brothers could see that there had been a struggle. Plants were knocked over, papers were scattered, and the victim was only semi-propped against the wall. It was gory, and Sam was glad that he was not queasy around blood. She had lacerations in straight, horizontal lines across her abdomen, a single puncture wound through the heart, and jagged wounds were visible on her forearms. The jagged cuts were presumably defensive wounds, but the others were surgically straight, and clearly intentional. None of this was particularly strange, however. The part that made this a supernatural case was the fact that the tattooed words seemed to be a result of the slash marks. It was like they had oozed from the wound itself. This woman, according to the words, had embezzled thousands of dollars from the company she worked for. She had not been caught nor suspected, however, the police had investigated the claim and found it to be true.

Sam pondered this information while surveying the room. Soon, his eyes landed on Daniela Olasz's desk. There was only one thing undisturbed: a small set of balanced scales. This was peculiar because balanced scales had been found at each crime scene, yet none of the scales were the same. Daniela Olasz's scales were small and golden, but the first victim's scales had been large and wooden. Suddenly, fingers snapped in front of Sam's face, abruptly jerking him out of his thoughts.

"Time to go, we have seen what we needed to. Thanks, officer," Dean said, turning to the officer that had shown them in.

"I guess we can skip the morgue this time since it's pretty clear what we're going to find," Dean grimly stated. Sam had finished explaining his theory about the scales, and they both knew this case had nothing to do with demons or ghosts.

They decided to go back to the motel room and get some research done instead. It wasn't long before Dean had nodded off, but Sam let him sleep. They had been up for a considerable amount of time, and Sam couldn't really blame his brother for wanting to catch up a bit on rest. After many hours, Sam considered taking a break. He still hadn't found anything. He leaned back in his chair and sighed, looking over at Dean's sleeping form. His eyes rested on the amulet he had given Dean for Christmas many years ago. The once shiny gold had become quite muted over the years. Then it occurred to him. Daniela Olasz's scales had not been particularly shiny. In fact, there had been quite a bit of dust around the base. Maybe the people being attacked were those already owning scales. Those who were supposed to be standing for justice, yet had committed crimes that went unpunished.

Sam abruptly went to work and pulled up records for people buying scales. Luckily, in this town, scales were pretty much only found in stores devoted to antiques. There were several people on the list, but by checking their profiles, Sam could reasonably assume the next victim would be Dustin Walters. He was a lawyer, and was in his mid-thirties, which was the same age range of all the other victims.

Dean woke up to the sound of furious typing. He blinked and tried to read his watch, and it seemed that he had slept for most of the night. It was 3:47am. First, he felt guilty, as he had fallen asleep well before 6pm. Second, he was hungry. They didn't eat dinner. He vaguely wondered why Sam never woke him up. Only then did he look over at Sam. Sam was sitting at the small table, hunched over his computer screen. He appeared to have dark circles under his eyes, and he didn't seem to have noticed Dean.

"Have you slept at all?" Dean asked groggily. Sam gave a slight jump at the sudden noise, but quickly relaxed.

"No, I had to research. So, get this…" Sam began.

"No, I will listen to you in a few hours. It's almost four in the morning, and you need some shut-eye. So, put the laptop away and get some rest. We'll go get some breakfast in a few hours and you can tell me then," Dean interrupted.

"I just have a few more things to look at and then I'll get some sleep," Sam said, turning back to his laptop screen. Suddenly, the screen shut on his fingers.

"Hey!" he yelped as he pulled his fingers free. Dean had shut the laptop and looked more than pissed.

"I am going to sleep now, and so are you," Dean stated and put the laptop on the nightstand by his head. Sam knew that if he tried to take it, Dean would hear him and stop him. After all, as hunters, sleeping lightly is an occupational requirement. Sam sighed and got into bed. Both brothers quickly drifted off to sleep.

The alarm went off at 7:30am, and Dean smashed the button. Sam hadn't even registered the fact that it was going off before Dean had silenced it. Dean had gotten more sleep than usual, so he was chipper and talkative. Sam was grateful for this since he was tired and did not want to work at a conversation. They were ready by 7:45am and seated at a booth in a diner at 8:00am.

After ordering Dean nonchalantly said to Sam, "So, I hear you had a breakthrough on the case?" Sam shot him a look, and Dean gave a toothy grin. He was saved from Sam's sarcastic comment by the arrival of their food.

While they hungrily dug into their food, Sam explained, "This seems to be the work of a Xiezhi. It's a creature found in Asian folklore, and legend suggests that it was once used as a sort of judge in the courts. In some translations it's a cattle animal with a single horn on its head, and in other cases it is described as a lion."

"If it were used in the courts, wouldn't it be pretty docile?" Dean asked in between shoveling eggs into his mouth.

"That's what I would have thought, but my hunch is that the Xiezhi has gotten tired of the corruption in the courts and is frustrated by the people who walk free. I think that the people buying the scales, if they have done something wrong, are insulting the Xiezhi, provoking it to attack," stated Sam.

"So, we have a vigilante unicorn on our hands," Dean joked.

"Pretty much," Sam replied with a slight smile.

"The next victim is probably going to be Dustin Walters. He's a lawyer, and he bought a set of antique wooden scales from the same shop as all the other victims," Sam clarified. He had just informed Dean of the address of the Walters's vacation home, and they were speeding their way there now.

As they pulled up to the cabin, Dean analytically stated, "This is a secluded area. That's good. We don't want to draw any unwanted attention." Sam simply nodded in agreement.

They made their way to the front door, and they knocked. The sun beat down on their backs, making them sweat. It had taken a while to arrange the weapon, so it was late-afternoon. Only a katana covered in the blood of the innocent could kill the Xiezhi. Sam and Dean were under no pretenses, and they knew they were far from innocent, so they had to "borrow" some blood from a recently deceased in the morgue.

The door opened, and the brothers were surprised to see a woman holding a small toddler. She had a fair face and dark brown hair swept up in a ponytail. The little boy had the same brown hair, but he had startling blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" she cordially asked.

"Um, we were wondering if Dustin Walters was here?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I'm his wife, Lauretta. You can come in, he's just in his office," she explained, leading them into the sitting room.

"He has a kid?" Dean pointedly asked Sam behind Lauretta's back.

"I didn't look to see," said Sam apologetically. With that, Dean followed Lauretta.

They sat on the edge of the small couch while Lauretta fetched Walter. Dean turned to Sam and stated, "We weren't planning on protecting three people. We don't have the supplies for that."

"I know. We could just send them back to town," Sam suggested. However, Dean could not reply because Dustin had just entered the room. He was not quite as tall as Dean, and he was considerably shorter than Sam, but he was reasonably good looking. He had dirty blonde hair and the same eyes as his son.

"Hello, I am Dustin Walters," he stated while shaking both of their hands, "Now, you guys must be clients. I told Aaron to give only serious customers my location while I am on vacation. I am surprised that I didn't receive a call, however. Anyways, what can I do for you?"

"Uh…" Dean started, looking to Sam.

"Well, we aren't actually clients. We will explain more once your wife leaves the room," Sam smoothly interjected. She looked suspicious, but left once her husband gave her a reassuring smile and a small nod.

"So what is this about?" Dustin inquired.

"Someone is going to attack you tonight for something you did wrong in the past," Dean explained.

"Exactly, and we know it is something that others don't know about," Sam confirmed. Dustin looked shocked at these words, and stuttered, "Well I- I… You can't… I didn't…"

Dean held up his hand and said, "Save it. We don't care. We're going to save your sorry ass anyways. Send Lauretta and your son back to town so they aren't caught in the crossfire."

Dustin looked like he was going to argue, so Sam quickly threatened, "Unless you would rather take your chances. Or I guess you could go to the police…"

At this Dustin hurriedly went on to say, "No, no, that's okay. I'll tell her now." He then got up and went into the other room. He was gone for a while. Dean thought Lauretta was probably arguing. This was confirmed when she came storming out with a duffel in one hand and her son in the other. She grabbed the keys and made for the door.

"We have to prepare for-" Dean began, but he was cut off by a high pitched scream. Lauretta had just opened the front door, and she was in hysterics. Sam and Dean were there before she had even shut the door. What had been seen prowling around the Impala made even the experienced hunters shudder.

A huge lion, easily Sam's height, had been seen by both. A gleaming horn protruded from its forehead, so sharp that they could not make out where the horn ended and the air began.

"Shit," whispered Sam.

"Ok, everyone out the back, it hasn't spotted us yet," Dean commanded, "We don't have the weapon to actually kill it, so we have to run. We're going to have to double back to get it."

Both brothers pulled out their guns that had been concealed, but Lauretta was sobbing and holding her son and Dustin was standing pale-faced a few feet away.

"I know you guys are scared, but we need to move NOW," Sam ordered, herding them out the back door with Dean following closely behind.

When they made it to the tree line, they heard a big crash behind them. It sounded like the Xiezhi had finally decided to break into the house. Losing his victim, the Xiezhi let out a loud roar. At this point, Sam grabbed the toddler out of Lauretta's arms and yelled, "RUN! GO!"

They all turned and ran as fast as they could away from the house, but Sam could soon discern sounds of pursuit near him. He chanced a look to his right and he caught sight of the lion. It was running next to him, but it clearly wasn't going to try and hurt him.

"DEAN! IT'S ONLY AFTER DUSTIN!" Sam shouted ahead of him. Dean understood, and he ordered Lauretta to hide behind a tree and not move. Sam handed her the toddler and she cowered among the roots. Sam then ran quickly to catch up to Dean and Dustin.

Once he was within five or so feet of the group, he noticed that Dean was shouting at Dustin to keep up. It seemed that Dustin was not nearly in shape enough to keep up with the pace of the two hunters. Suddenly, motion in Sam's periphery caught his eye. The Xiezhi was making its attack.

"GET DOWN!" Sam yelled, lunging forward and pushing Dustin to the ground. A sudden pain bloomed in Sam's left arm, somewhere around his elbow.

"SAM!" Dean screamed, and he shot six rounds into the beast. With a mighty roar it ran away, apparently injured. Dustin had gotten up and now had his back to a tree, clearly terrified. Sam, however, was still on the ground, but he was moving.

"Sammy, hey, hey, what's wrong? Where?" Dean worriedly asked as he dropped to his knees next to his brother. Dean stored his gun in the back of his pants, and moved to look at the arm Sam was clutching. Red blossomed all over his sleeve, and the fabric was torn in a jagged line from his bicep down to his forearm. Dean could see the ink forming words around the cut, writing out the names of the people and monsters Sam had directly and indirectly killed over the years.

"I thought he wasn't after us. The cut shouldn't have landed," Sam said through gritted teeth. Meanwhile, Dean was pulling out a piece of cloth and wrapping it tightly around the wound.

"Can you get up? That thing won't stay away forever," Dean asked, slightly panicking

"Yeah, it got my arm, not my leg," came the sarcastic reply. Nonetheless, Dean grabbed under his right arm and helped him up.

"You good?" he asked with his hand still on Sam's right side. Sam knew it was there to keep him steady in case he lost his balance.

"Yeah, fine. Let's move. You lead the way," Sam dictated.

"Ok," Dean said with gruff acknowledgement. His eyes betrayed him though. Dean was worried. They had no weapon that was effective against this thing, and Sam was now injured.

Dean was beginning to wonder why they ever made any plans. He was just about to start leading the way back to the car when he heard the growl. He turned behind him and saw his brother, bloody and scared, and he knew they couldn't fight this thing without the proper weapons. Dustin was in no shape to run at the speed he needed to, so Dean made an executive decision. He would make himself guiltier than Dustin in the eyes of the Xiezhi. In a way, Dean kind of understood the creature. It was so frustrated by the strong preying on the weak that it wanted justice. Dean therefore knew the best way to make the beast chase him instead: prey on the weak.

Dean picked up a rock from the ground, turned to his brother, and chucked it at him as hard as he could. Not expecting this, Sam did not have time to dodge, and the rock hit him just above his eyebrow, knocking him to the ground. Bewildered, Sam just lay on the ground, pain throbbing through his body, not quite conscious, and not quite unconscious.

"HEY!" Dean yelled, turning to the lion, "I HURT SOMEONE WHO WAS ALREADY INJURED! IT WASN'T A FAIR FIGHT! NOW, COME AND GET ME, YOU BITCH!" And with that, Dean ran.

Oh, that's why he did it, Sam briefly thought before succumbing to the darkness.

Dean knew that it had worked immediately. The Xiezhi had given an indignant roar, clearly miffed that someone would dare to do something so unjust in front of it. Dean could now hear it pursuing him as he ran through the trees. The Xiezhi would have caught him by now if it hadn't been for the size of the lion part of its body. It just couldn't fit through the smaller spaces in the trees.

As Dean ran, he thought of Sammy. He kept reliving the look on his brother's face as he threw the rock at him. He had looked utterly surprised that his brother would turn against him. He had looked betrayed, defeated. That was a look Dean had never wanted to see on Sammy's face. Dean had tried to explain to Sam why he threw the rock while also provoking the Xiezhi, and he hoped that Sam had been conscious enough to understand him.

Dean was now almost at the car. The Xiezhi was close behind him, and Dean wasn't sure if he would be able to get the katana out in time. The clearing was small, but the open space was where the Xiezhi could easily outrun him. Yet, he tore into the clearing without hesitating. He could hear the Xiezhi gaining ground. It couldn't be more than twenty feet behind him, and it was running full tilt.

Dean grabbed for the back door of the Impala. He heard the Xiezhi pounce. He grabbed the katana. It was almost upon him. He turned and saw the horn glittering ominously in the light. He rolled to the right. The beast slammed its horn into the Impala's door. And Dean, with a mighty thrust, plunged the katana covered in blood into the Xiezhi's heart. It screamed and thrashed before dissolved into a thin piece of fabric.

Dean leaned heavily on the car, breathless and grateful to be alive. He tossed the katana in the trunk and bent to pick up the long, narrow strip of fabric. It was just a simple cloth. He would have to ask Sam about it. Sam, he thought, suddenly remembering that his little brother was probably knocked out somewhere in the forest due to his brilliant plan. And, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Dean started to run.

Sam woke up slowly, looking at the swaying tree branches far above him. He was at peace for a moment, but then he remembered all that had occurred. Sam tried to reach up and touch the swollen, bleeding cut above his eyebrow, but he had tried to use his left hand. Swearing to himself, he instead propped himself up on his right, cradling his left arm in his lap. Dustin was nowhere to be seen, which worried him. He began to wonder, how long have I been out?

He knew he had to get to the Impala, for Dean was fighting that beast alone. With this new motive, Sam hoisted himself to his feet and began to stumble through the forest. He really wasn't all that hurt. He had certainly had worse, but the pounding headache was making it hard for him to focus.

It seemed like he had walked miles when he heard a startled yelp off to his right. He jumped, suddenly alert, but then Lauretta emerged from the trees, followed by Dustin. Dustin was holding his son, and Sam was glad to see they were all unhurt.

"Thank goodness, it's you," Lauretta breathed, "I thought that thing had come back." She shivered as she spoke about the Xiezhi.

"I'm sorry I left you, I started running when your brother yelled, and I ran into my wife and I couldn't leave her," Dustin apologized.

"I need to find my brother. How far are we from your cabin?" Sam inquired. Dustin could tell he was in no mood for apologies, as he was on a mission.

"About five miles," Dustin sheepishly said, "Maybe more, maybe less. We ran pretty far when we were afraid for our lives."

"Let's move then," Sam directed. Lauretta led the way, Dustin and his son followed, and Sam brought up the rear. They walked for about a mile, the time seemingly slowed down to Sam, who was convinced he had truly failed his brother this time. He just couldn't see how Dean could have made it out of that one.

"SAM!" a familiar voice yelled, "SAMMY!"

"DEAN!" Sam yelled back, a hopeful smile returning to his face. Dean appeared through the trees, clearly having run a long distance. Sam, regaining strength at seeing his brother, ran to him and pulled him into a hug. Dean had not expected this, so he had no time to fend it off.

"I thought I lost you," Sam muttered under his breath.

"I'm still here. You guys just head back to the house, I have to talk to my brother," Dean said as he turned away from Sam and towards the Walters family. They just nodded and continued picking their way through the forest.

"You good?" Dean asked Sam while peering into his face with concern.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam reassured him.

"That evil son-of-a-bitch turned into this when I killed it," Dean relayed while pulling out the piece of fabric, "Any idea what it is?"

"Yeah, actually," Sam continued to explain as he took the small strip of cloth from Dean, "I think it's a blindfold. At Stanford, they had statues and pictures of Lady Justice everywhere. She always carried a set of scales and wore a blindfold because justice was meant to be blind. And during World War II, there was a lot of advertisements in America suggesting that Lady Justice sometimes did take up the sword. We used a katana because it's the only sword-like object of Asian descent we have. I thought it would be a good idea."

"You are literally a walking encyclopedia," Dean stated, feigning annoyance. Sam smiled and looked at the small strip of cloth moving slightly in the wind.

"We better salt and burn this, just in case," Sam informed Dean.

"Yeah, are you sure you're good?" Dean asked again. Sam had begun to look a little pale, and Dean was starting to worry about blood loss.

"Fine. Let's just go," answered Sam. Without another word, they began to make their way back to the house.

Dean glanced behind him every once and a while, just to make sure Sam was keeping up. The mark on Sam's face killed him every time he saw it because he knew he was the cause of it. Sam kept his gaze fixed upon his feet and the area just in front of them. He was starting to become lightheaded, and he had to focus on not tripping over the uneven ground.

"We are almost there; I can see the tree line. It's only about a hundred yards away," Dean called over his shoulder. A noncommittal grunt was his only response. This made Dean turn, and in the improved lighting, he could definitely see that Sam's condition had deteriorated. He noticed that Sam's right arm was cradling his left more than before.

"Let me see your arm," Dean commanded, grabbing it both forcefully and gently at the same time. Sam didn't protest. Dean peeled away the makeshift bandage he had given Sam when he had first received the wound. It was still bleeding profusely. Dean assumed it was too deep to clot properly. Sam suddenly listed sideways.

"Woah, Sammy," Dean yelped as he lunged to slow Sam's descent. He managed to grab Sam's jacket and stop him from hitting the ground. Dean lowered him slowly. Sam wasn't unconscious, but he seemed simply too tired to stand up anymore.

"For future reference, this is not the definition of 'fine'," Dean chided as he waited for Sam to regain some strength. After five or so minutes, Sam finally spoke.

"I think I can make it to the car now," he croaked.

"Ok," Dean consented. He moved to his brother's right side, grabbing Sam's right arm and wrapping around his shoulder. Dean heaved them both up and they began moving to the car. Sam was trying to help, but he was dragging his feet, making him stumble every step. After what seemed like an eternity, they made it to the Impala. Sam surveyed the damage to the back door and raised an eyebrow at Dean.

"I know, I know. Damn beast messed with the paint job," said a clearly disgruntled Dean.

Sam couldn't help but laugh, adding, "I think it did more than scratch the paint!"

Dean scowled, "Well, I'm going to go get Dustin and them so we can have a nice chat on the way back to town." He stomped off after depositing Sam in the passenger seat muttering about having to replace the door.

They arrived at the motel, and Dean helped Sam inside, seating him at one of the rickety chairs at the table. He put some orange juice and some cookies in front of him, and left again. Their guests stood by the Impala nervously, covered in dirt and mud. Dean swiped a few towels and soaps off of the maid's cart, rented another room, ordered them not to leave, and suggested they take showers. He had them pack a change of clothes, so they were able to clean themselves up. Dean then went back to his and Sam's room. Sam was still sitting in the chair, but he had clearly taken a shower. He had put on a pair of sweatpants, but didn't have a shirt on, presumably so Dean could stitch the cut up.

"You okay for a few minutes?" Dean checked, "I wanted to clean up before I get near that cut." Sam tiredly waved him off. Dean took that to mean he could do what he needed to. He turned the TV on for Sam and handed him the remote, then he took a shower and scrubbed himself clean.

When he got out, he got dressed, and then immediately pulled up a chair next to Sam and took his arm. The ink had gone away when the Xiezhi had been killed, but the wound was still there. He cleaned the cut again, even though he knew Sam had already done it once.

"I already did that," Sam whined as Dean probed the cut.

"I know," Dean responded, "but it's better to be safe." He then cleaned out the cut with holy water to get rid of any supernatural presence, and also with hydrogen peroxide to clean out the bacteria. He was hesitant to do this because hydrogen peroxide also kills the good bacteria, but he opted for it anyways since he had nothing else to clean it with. He finished by stitching the cut up and making a sling out of an old T-shirt. He figured that although it wasn't really the Winchester way of dealing with cuts like that, it was better than having Sam pull his stitches.

Dean then looked to the cut on his forehead. It was not large, but a bruise was forming underneath and around it. It seemed to be forming normally, so Dean was not worried. He simply cleaned the cut and put a butterfly bandage over it.

"Thanks," Sam mumbled, bringing his right hand to rub the bandage so it wouldn't fall off. Once again, he was immensely grateful that his brother was not dead or injured. Just to think, I would have had to do this myself, thought Sam

"We should head over there," Dean said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the Walters's room.

"Yeah sure," Sam replied, his thoughts elsewhere.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asked, "You're acting different. If it's just the blood loss, that's fine, but you already had something to eat and drink."

"No, no, I'm fine. I was just thinking," Sam hurriedly explained. Suddenly, it dawned on Dean what was bothering him.

"I'm not going to leave you like that, Sammy. I wasn't going out when the last thing I did was hurt you," Dean reassured him.

"You were saving us, not hurting me," Sam responded, picking up on Dean's guilt. Dean gave him that classic toothy grin, and stood up.

"Let's go give 'em the talk!" Dean said with enthusiasm. Sam laughed and stood up as well.

Regardless of knowing that it wasn't the first time they had to do this, they cheerily made their way to the other room. The only thing that mattered to them was whether they got to do it together, at least for one more time.