Chapter One

The cat slinked its way from underneath the brand new sports car parked in the driveway of a suburban Denver home. Someone in the house had just turned off the porch light, and the sleek black feline made its way towards the swing in front of the window. It stopped ever-so-briefly on the bottom stair to groom its tail when the curtains fluttered, resuming its course when the coast was once again clear.

The curious beast lucked out when it reached the swing - whomever had moved the curtains had left a small enough gap for it to peek through. Stretching itself out with back paws on the seat and front paws on the window ledge, the cat bobbed its head around to get a better view of the house's interior. It finally settled as the scene unfolded before it.

A man sat at a leather couch, leaning over the coffee table as he opened a bottle of white wine. Two dark-haired women kneeled on the floor next to him, giggling and raising Champaign glasses towards him. He obliged, then glanced at the blonde squatting next to the stereo, who turned the knob for the volume as she stood up and walked towards the trio in the center of the room. The man held out an arm towards her, beckoning with the glass of wine in his hand. He snaked his arm around her shoulders when she took it and she thanked him by nuzzling his earlobe.

On the other side of the glass, the cat didn't understand the strange human mating customs. The females were oddly quiet, and covered the male in an odd tangle of bodies. His grunts of pleasure soon began to take on a more panicked tone as the women took the love-play in a new direction, their voices chanting in rhythm with the sounds of bones breaking and flesh tearing.

The cat knew it should have left, but it was spellbound and compelled to watch the grisly scene. But it stayed for a moment too long. A jeweled pendant on its collar seemed to shimmer a little too brightly in the dim light coming from between the curtains, and one of the brunettes looked up towards the source. A single drop of blood slid down her face just below her left eye, which she winked as she made eye contact with the animal.

The cat shook it off and jumped down off the porch swing as if nothing out of the ordinary had been going on. But the watcher that had been gazing through the pendant gasped from their location, dropping the crystal they had held in their hand. Before it could be recovered, the crystal shattered on the marble floor, breaking the connection between the two scrying talismans.

And the man's screams still echoed in the watcher's ears.

Dean Winchester was leaning over a stack of newspapers with a pen in one hand and a slice of bacon in the other. He was only pretending to read the front page of the top paper, for his eyes kept wandering to his brother who was outside the diner, talking on his cell phone. Absentmindedly, Dean brought the pen to his mouth, only to look at it with disgust before setting it down on the table and replacing it with the bacon. As he chewed, Sam walked through the diner door and slid into the booth opposite from Dean.

"Bobby said there's nothing new popping up on the radar as far as he can tell," he offered, hoping to get a response from the older Winchester. When there wasn't one, he continued. "He says that things are getting a little too quiet for him."

"Good."

Dean's simple reply caught Sam off guard. He stared at his brother, who had torn off another bite of bacon and was chewing innocently while waiting for Sam's response.

"What do you mean, 'good?' We've got the Apocalypse practically at our doorstep and you're not doing anything to find out what the next step is to help prevent it?"

"Nope."

Dean contemplated the last piece of bacon before popping it in his mouth. Sam looked at him in disbelief.

"What do you mean, 'No…'"

Sam was interrupted when Dean picked up the newspaper in front of him and held it up for his brother to look at. The younger brother took it for himself and scanned the article on the front page. First one, then both eyebrows raised as he read further, and finally Sam put it down and looked at Dean.

"Exsanguinations are a trademark of vampires, but there's no word about puncture marks. Hearts being ripped out is something that werewolves do, but it's the new moon, not the full. Are we looking at a sloppy demon?"

Dean shifted in his seat as he grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and tossed a few bills onto the table. Then he stood, grabbed the newspaper, and leaned over towards Sam.

"Witch."

Bewildered, Sam just sat there for a moment, contemplating the possibility that what Dean had concluded was true. After realizing that his brother had slipped out the door while he was zoned out, he got up and met Dean back at the Impala.

"How certain of this are you?" he asked. "Because all we have to go on so far is that one article."

Without a word, Dean reached into the backseat and grabbed the messenger bag that housed Sam's laptop. "Then find more," he said as he dropped the bag into Sam's lap. Then, with a turn of the key, he brought the car roaring back to life and turned towards the highway.

Sam stared at him in utter disbelief. "Dude, what is with you today? You're acting just like you do whenever…" His eyes brightened as he concluded the sentence in his head, but his expression darkened when he changed his statement. "You saw him again, didn't you?"

"Nope."

"And we're back to the one-word answers again." Sam rolled his eyes, glanced out the window at the passing scenery, then turned his gaze back to Dean. "You're always like this after Castiel comes calling on you."

"So," came the reply through pursed lips. Dean was already getting tired of the conversation, but Sam refused to let it go.

"So did he put you up to this or is it something else?"

Dean's mumbled answer was barely audible, but Sam pursued it anyhow, pushing his luck with Dean's temper.

"I said 'I don't know,' Sam. Are you happy now? I don't know. The last time I talked to him, he said to go with my gut. Which doesn't mean sit on the crapper twiddling my thumbs waiting for something to happen, okay? Something about that article jumped out at me, so I'm …"

"…going with your gut. I get it."

With his curiosity satisfied for the time being, Sam finally pulled the laptop from the messenger bag and flipped open the monitor. Content that his brother was going to be quiet for at least a little while, Dean turned on the radio in time to hear the opening chords of Santana's "Black Magic Woman." The brothers looked at each other, then looked away. Dean sighed and Sam shook his head.

"Witch?" confirmed the younger Winchester.

"Yeah."