The rain poured, the thunder boomed, and the lightning flashed across the sky. Students ducked under umbrellas or pulled their hoodless jackets over their heads looking for cover from the depressing weather as they made their way to class. It was a spring day and the semester, for schools like this college, was winding down. Though, while everyone ran from the rain, a strange man stood out in the open staring with a sad, lonely expression at the fountain which was located at the heart of the small campus. The man was clad in dark clothes. A plain black t-shirt covered with a black sport coat and dark jeans covered the man's body. His long dark hair hung with sadness from his head. The man seemed to only be about thirty years old, yet he looked as if he had seen too much in his lifetime. He had no umbrella nor a friend to lend him the shelter of one. He just stared longingly into the fountain as if he were waiting for something to happen. It was a sad sight to see, really. The man's gaunt face hung low with grief.

"Patrick? What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here," a woman's voice questioned his reason for being there. She was right behind him, he knew. She had an umbrella as well. The sound of her voice bounced from something of shelter. The rain fell harder. "Patrick?" she said again.

Patrick shook his head as he closed his eyes. "No...no…I didn't… It wasn't…"

The woman stepped closer to him and wrapped her free arm around him and held the umbrella over his head. "Patrick, we know it wasn't your fault…But the police-"

Patrick opened his eyes and looked at the woman. There was something dark about the look in his eyes...something, almost demonic like. "I'm so sorry…" he muttered, opening his mouth wide as needle like teeth fell into place, hiding what had appeared to be human teeth. "I know who really killed her, Gemma. It was you." Patrick's voice was deep and dark. Revenge was splattered across his expression. He smirked deviously.

Gemma staggered back, away from Patrick. His new appearance had caught her off guard. She stared wide eyed at the thing who once was Patrick Fairworth. He stepped towards her, the rain giving him a devilish look. She screamed hoping someone would see what was happening. "Patrick, please! Listen to me!" But Patrick didn't stop. He grabbed her by the throat with incredible strength, choking her. He brought her close to his body, bending his head down towards her neck he could hear her heart racing, the blood flowing. He hoped this revenge would taste-

SHHHING! Patrick didn't have time to think any last thoughts, nor did he have any time to say any real last words. He dropped Gemma as his head rolled to the ground. A second later his body slunked over and fell with a thud a Gemma's feet. Horrified and attempting to catch her breath she looked up where Patrick had previously been standing. A few inches away stood a pair of men. One was a little over 6 feet tall with long dark hair, the other was at least four inches shorter than his companion with short hair and in his hand a bloodied machete. Gemma could tell they weren't from around the area. There was just something about them that seemed out of place. The tall one came close to her, stepping over Patrick's body, and held out his hand with a comforting expression on his face. While his partner took a rag from his pocket and cleaned the blood from the machete. She looked around and the only people outside were the three of them. Meaning… no witnesses. In that moment she was grateful the two men were there, if it weren't for them… she'd be dead. Weeping she took the tall one's hand and curled into his body as he comforted her. No one would believe her… Her life would be changed forever… but at least she was alive. Unlike poor Patrick, who hadn't truly been alive for centuries.

Two beers clinked against each other simultaneously, as Sam and Dean Winchester rested against the hood of the Impala. Taking out the vampire had been easy. They solved the case in less than twenty-four hours, not really a record for them, but close enough. The boys deserved to celebrate a little. They had been through a lot more than ganking a vampire, recently. A few months prior Sam had been lying in a hospital bed, dying as a result of the Trials. Dean, being the caring big brother got help from an angel who took shelter in Sam's body in order to heal him. Sam was broken inside. The Trials had done a bigger number on him than the brothers had thought. Dean felt guilty. It was Dean who had wanted to complete the trials, it was supposed to have been Dean. But Sam had come in at the last minute and completed the first trial without even consulting with his older brother.

Dean was still upset about that. He had specifically told Sam, before it all, that he was going to do the trials. And now he felt as if he was failing his father. John Winchester had charged Dean with protecting Sam and to this day, Dean had so far been successful. But this last time he had made a mistake. The angel Ezekiel wasn't who he had said he was. He really was Gadreel, the angel that had been in charge of guarding the Garden of Eden and had been sent to a prison in Heaven as a result. This feathery dick had killed Kevin and taken Sam for a joy ride. After all of that, Dean was just happy to have his brother back.

As he leaned against the Impala in deep thought, he lifted his hand to the Mark of Cain on his forearm. This had become a recent habit of his and Sam apparently noticed.

"Why do you keep doing that?" the younger Winchester said as he stared at his brother. Dean snapped back to reality.

"Doing what?" he asked gruffly.

Sam sighed. "Grabbing your arm in a very specific area," he responded in a tone as if Dean should know what he does unconsciously.

Quickly Dean removed his hand and wiped it on his jeans then shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Sam rolled his eyes and finished his beer. "We should get going." He went around to the passenger door and got into the Impala.

Dean watched him, worried. Another lie. When would he stop lying to Sammy? Oh right… probably when they were both dead. He looked at his bottle and saw that it was only half full. He dumped the rest of his beer out in the grass then got in the Impala. It rumbled to life when he turned the key in the ignition. The brothers drove off to the nearest motel for the night.

The next morning Dean woke to find Sam at the table reading a newspaper with a concerned look on his face. It was trademark Sam. Sitting at a table and reading. Probably looking for another case. They just finished one, they should go back to the Bunker for a while and plan what they were going to do about Gadreel, Metatron, and Abaddon. But no. In the end Dean decided that perhaps it was better that they stayed on the road for a little while. It would give them both a chance work out their issues. It's what Bobby would tell them to do, so why not? Dean wiped the sleep from his tired eyes and then looked at the clock. It was 7:30 A.M. He gave a little smile of accomplishment. He had actually managed to sleep more than four hours. A whole woppin' six hours! Bam! A new record! He got out of bed and sat down at the table across from his brother. "So whats in the news today?" he asked casually.

Sam watched him as he sat down. "Nothing much...Only we may have another case," he informed. Ah just as Dean predicted.

"Great, what is it and where?"

Sam flipped back a few pages in the newspaper and laid it down on the table for Dean to see. He pointed to the article. "In the next county over, a town hall was attacked the night of a public town hall meeting. After the confusion was cleared it was discovered that thirteen men had gone missing. Eleven nights before, the same thing happened in eleven other towns within the county. Thirteen men per town. Several people were sent to hospitals for injuries related to the attack. Witness statements haven't been released because of-get this-far fetched statements," Sam informed.

Dean wracked his brains trying to think of what could do this. "You think it's a pagan god of some sorts? The numbers seem sort of specific."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. I say we check it out."

Dean nodded. "I agree. Lets get some breakfast first. I'm starving."