Title:Three Horsemen… and One Horsewoman

Disclaimer:I do not own anything you recognize…

Warnings: Nope.

Notes:Exactly what the title says! Enjoy!

Enjoy!

"Jonathon," Redford scolded, "why should we spare Africa from the plague? Look what they're doing!" He gestured to the map in between the four chairs, each occupied by a horseperson.

Jonathon was the eldest horseman – the one who had lived the longest. He was dark and brooding. You never messed with Jonathon.

Redford was the youngest horseman. He was all up for destruction of everything. His red hair and green eyes made him a sight to behold.

"Boys, quiet," Dana scolded. She was the only woman of the group. "We have other matters to attend to."

"I agree," added the final horseperson, Jason. "Like the Winchester boys."

Mutters of approval ran throughout the group.

"I say we send our best after them," Dana mentioned. "I'd like to see them beg for their lives."

Redford interfered, "Dana, we've already sent our best and they defeated him – Azazel."

Jonathon nodded, "We have to figure out another way and soon. They're postponing the end of the world."

Jason added in, "But we've tried it all: separating them, attempting to kill the Dean boy, sending our best. We've even sent natural disasters against them. They're too resourceful."

"We have to figure something else out," Dana mentioned. "They can't keep stopping us. They're just humans."

"Sam's not completely human," Jonathon corrected. "But I agree. We must overcome them."

From somewhere in the background came a wicked laugh. Suddenly, a booming voice from over in the corner declared, "Good luck, lady and gents."

The horsepersons had a split second to move their heads toward the voice before the sound of four bullets firing startled them. Three hit their target perfectly, sending the one woman and two men falling to the ground, dead.

Dean Winchester moved from the darkness with the Colt in hand, Sam Winchester following behind with a Colt replica.

"You two," Redford boomed, pointing toward the boys, "how'd you get in?"

"Let's say that we had a little luck." Dean smirked, firing one more bullet.

Redford was gone before the bullet hit.

"Damn it," Dean grumbled. "We were so close!"

Sam just smiled, "Well, it takes them centuries to reproduce, so I guess we're good for now."

"Whatever."