Pete Fulton slowly rode his bike home from work. Small for sixteen, he looked about three years younger than his age, but that didn't matter. By this time next year he would have his license, and he wouldn't have to work at the marina on the bay. Working outside all summer had muscled and tanned his body nicely, not that anyone could tell under the layers of dirt from the day's cleaning. He arrived at a small two story house and brought his bike inside. It didn't pay to leave it in the yard with all the tourists around. "Hey, mom! I'm home!"

Pete heard his mom call from the kitchen. "Go wash up for supper!" He smiled through slightly crooked teeth that probably could have used braces and headed up stairs.

Unusually, the first door on the left upstairs was closed, so he knocked before heading into the bathroom. "Hey, Ryan! Mom says wash up! Dinner's almost ready." No response. Pete ran his hand through his blonde curls. "Hey, kid! Come on!" He opened the door and stared in horror at what he found. "Mom!"

The thunder of Lindsey Fulton's feet up the stairs caused her son to look at her, and she had never seen his face so pale. She peeked into the room, terrified of what she would find. Everything looked in order. Her husband's computer was on the desk; his books were neat, certificates on the wall. The office was fine. "Where's Ryan's stuff?" Pete accused. Lindsey looked at her son in shock. "Where's my brother?" Her light blue eyes opened wide in hurt and confusion as her usually calm son pushed her into the wall. "What the hell is going on here?" he screamed. Lindsey reached out to her son, tears in her eyes, but he grabbed her arms and twisted, bringing her over the stairs. He let go when his mother overbalanced, and she tumbled down the stairs, to the open front door.

Peter Fulton stared down the steps in horror at his mother and a pair of black dress shoes standing in the doorway. He looked up to see the business suit of his father, Andrew, gray eyes wide with confusion, phone in hand. "Nine one one. What is your emergency?"

Chapter 1

Sam barely glanced up from his laptop as Dean opened the motel room door. Although he was the younger brother, Sam was big, almost too big to fit at the small generic table in this cheap room. The décor was supposed to be whimsically nautical, but came off looking like an old lady's shell themed bathroom. "So get this," he began, turning the screen around to face his brother, "there have been two more patients admitted to the psych ward with this amnesia."

Dean struggled through the front door with the key, bag of food, and two large coffees. He dropped the food on the table and fished his brother's pancakes off of his breakfast burrito. "More freak thunderstorms?" he asked. For once, wearing a black tee shirt without his father's leather jacket, he almost looked like any other young man headed to the Jersey shore for a few days of fun, but it had been a long time since he last took a day off. He peeled the wrapper off his fast food breakfast and took a bite.

"No, that's just it. There's no evidence of anything like that this time. The bank manager, Fredericks, takes his yacht out. Witness reports say there was 'blue lightning' when he brought it back to the marina, and suddenly, he doesn't remember he's married. Then the teacher's walking around in last week's storm, finds the police station and tells them that she's been kidnapped by 'some guy,' who it turns out is her brother. She doesn't remember him. But now we've got two more, no demonic omens. I'm thinking we're looking for something else."

"So now you don't think this has anything to do with breaking the final seal? So what, like some kind of freak that eats memories? No such thing. Are you sure this is even our kinda' case?"

Sam cut him off with a shake of his head, and took a sip of his coffee before continuing. "I still think so, Dean. This kid, Pete Fulton, his dad called the cops when he attacked his mom. He keeps saying his little brother has disappeared, and he seems to think mom had something to do with it."

"So mom eighty-sixes the ankle biter and the big brother's in the nuthouse?"

"No, no! Peter doesn't have any siblings." Sam opened the tiny container of maple syrup and poured a little on his breakfast. "But according to the psych reports, he's convinced he has a seven year old brother named Ryan and is desperate for anyone to go out and look for him. Hasn't slept in two days. And," Sam paused for another drink, and Dean rolled his eyes, "according to hospital records, seven years ago, momma Fulton gave birth, but her second son was stillborn."

"Okay." The older brother swallowed before continuing. "So we've got the kid, Mr.…" he checked the name on the laptop screen, "Allan Fredricks, bank manager, and Donna Gregory, tourist and teacher. Who else?"

"Cop. Officer Damon Carlson, lived in Ocean Township all his life. Called into the station to report that he was going to check," Sam turned the computer back towards himself and typed until he could get to the official document, "quote, 'blue lights on the water' and was found two hours later trying to break into his parents' old house."

"So the other vics, they see these 'blue lights'' too?" Sam nodded, his fork to his mouth. "Dammit. Here's a hint, you see weird freaky shit, you stay the hell away, people!" His brother inclined his head, if only. "Alright, so what do they have in common?"

"Near as I can tell, our best bet is here." He typed again and showed Dean the computer screen. "Key Harbor Marina, owned by Mrs. Ellen Johnson." The website showed pictures of different boats to rent, and advertisements for tours, fishing trips, just about anything you could do on the water. "Pete worked there, Mr. Fredericks owned a boat, and our teacher's brother said she was looking to book a fishing trip for them."

"And it's right on the bay," finished Dean. "Okay. So what do you think? If it's not a demon?"

Sam cleaned up his breakfast and threw out the trash. "I don't know. Maybe some kind of ghost, or a cursed object."

"Hey, maybe it's a mermaid," said Dean, smiling.

"Yeah Dean. It's a mermaid," Sam deadpanned. "Suits in fifteen?"

"Yeah, yeah." Dean rolled his eyes, but took out his trash before going to the small motel closet that smelled of stale cologne.

By nine o'clock, the boys were stepping out of the black Impala into the salty air of Ocean, New Jersey. Sam pushed his brown hair out of his face and straightened his suit jacket, checking to make sure that his pistol was stuck in the back of his belt. He glanced at Dean who was wiping sweat from his brow already.

"Damn Feds need a new uniform. It's the middle of freaking August here." He jealously looked at the other beach goers in their short sleeved shirts.

"Well let's get this done and maybe we can get out of here before it gets really hot. You ready?" Dean grumbled something, but checked his gun and the machete hidden down his leg were in place before leading the way into the marina.

"Hi, welcome to Key Harbor. How can I help you gentlemen today?" The woman who greeted them was about forty years old, with a professional pink smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Even in her short sleeved gray blouse she was sweating already, and brushed her brown bangs back into place.

"Agent John Fogerty, FBI. This is my partner, Agent Clifford." The brothers flashed their badges. "Can you tell us anything about what's been going on here?"

The woman wrung her hands. "It's so sad. Peter has been working for me for two years now, going out on fishing trips as an assistant, cleaning our fleet after they came in, you know? He's always been such a good boy. And Mr. Fredericks not remembering Mrs. Fredericks? He brings her here every other weekend for a night out together, just the two of them. Honestly, I'm not sure why I even have this place open today, except its tourist season. I feel like I should be doing something, I don't know."

"Mrs. Johnson," began 'Agent Clifford,' pushing his long hair from his face again, "other than what's been happening to your customers, has anything unusual been going on in the marina? Anything new? Is there anyone who would want to hurt your business?"

"I don't…No. We get customers that moor their boats here for a few days and leave again, but that's pretty routine. I can't think of anyone that would want to hurt the business, it brings in plenty of tourists, and it's not like we have any competition."

"Thank you, Mrs. Johnson," said the other agent. "Do you mind if we have a look around?"

"Of course." Agent Fogerty scanned the room. The front wall was a series of large windows keeping the room brightly lit. There was a door in the back behind the desk that appeared to lead to a small office, and a second door on the side of the building that was propped open to the bay. No wonder it was so hot in there. He headed into the office taking something black from his jacket pocket.

"Mrs. Johnson, I would feel much safer if you went home for a while. Just until we can be sure there's no gas leak or something in the building causing these symptoms." The woman gasped, but nodded. "Tell you what, you head on home, and I will personally give you a call when we finish up here?" She nodded.

While Sam dutifully took down the owner's home phone number, Dean began their work in earnest. He looked at the homemade EMF reader in his hand, and slowly walked around the room, well-practiced green eyes searching. The first few LEDs lit up on the top of the detector when he brought it near the computer, but he ignored the background noise. Steady hands ran up and down the desk, the bookshelves, and molding, looking for movement or bumps that might hide voodoo, charms, or hex bags. The clean lines of the ultramodern office furniture made quick work of the room, and he headed back out to the front.

Leaning over the front desk, head deep in the crisp new ledger, Sam didn't notice Dean come back in. "Anything?"

Sam shook his head. "It looks like they rebuilt this place recently, some kind of fire. But I've got nothing else out of the ordinary. You?"

Dean began scanning the outer room for electromagnetic waves. "Got me. No sulfur, no creepy-ass sigils, and EMF is coming up empty. As far as I can tell, monster's choosing his vics here, but it has nothing to do with this place." He turned off the EMF reader and put it in his jacket pocket.

Eyebrows raised, Sam looked at his brother. "Alright. I'll stay here, look over the books, maybe I can find something. Why don't you head to the hospital and see if you can get anything from the victims?"

Dean was about to reply when a blue flash appeared at the front door. "You see that?"

"Yeah." Both brothers drew their pistols, and Sam moved into the middle of the room. A few feet apart, the boys stood back to back, keeping visual on the room. Eyes wide, adrenaline pumping, they looked for something to fight. Silently they waited, watching. Ten seconds. Twenty-five. A minute. Sam put up his gun, still wary. "What was that?"

"Damned if I know." Dean pointed his gun down, but kept his finger on the trigger. Wouldn't do for someone to pass by those big windows and see two grown men, guns drawn, aiming at nothing. He risked a glance at his brother but only saw his confusion reflected back at him. "You forget anything yet?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Don't think so. You?" Dean mimicked the gesture, and started to holster his pistol.

Again, the front door lit up blue, as if a tube of blue neon and been turned on around the outside, and transparent blue waves shimmered inside the rectangle. The boys' eyes followed as the neon arced from the front door to the windows, to the office door and back, chasing itself around like a string of Christmas lights until it settled on the open bay doors. Dean approached slowly, gun in his right hand, his left hand gesturing for Sam to stay back. Without warning, the lights jumped again, this time outside to a gate in front of a small boat.

The brothers approached, guns drawn. Seagulls cawed, but no one noticed the sound. Gentle waves buoyed the quiet form of the Amphitrite II, gently thrumming its keyhole trim decorations against the dock. On board, a tall man stood in a hood despite the heat, his face contorted into a grimace as he faced the blue lights. He brought his hands together as the lights crackled and faded, and Dean broke into a run, sprinting up the ramp toward the man. Dean fired a shot, hitting his mark. Unfortunately, the man hardly shuddered from the impact, and continued his spellwork. Pocketing his pistol, Dean drew a machete from his belt, the sheath hidden in his dress slacks. Arms above his head, he heard "Dean, no!" as he swung the blade down. The man's head severed from his shoulders and rolled to the deck.

"I got this," said Dean, amused that his brother was warning him. For what? He watched the head settle for another second. Free from the hood, Dean could see that the monster he had killed had two faces, one on each side of the head. "Dude, I killed Quirrel!" he said, holding up the head to display to Sam. A moment later, the head facing Dean opened its gold eyes, frowned, and disappeared, along with the body. "What the hell?!"

"Dean, get back here." Sam put his gun away, but didn't stop looking around, waiting for a golden eyed, two faced man to come jumping out at him. Dean walked down the ramp, sheathing his machete and pulling out his pistol again. Eyes scanning for the monster, he didn't notice the blue lights line the gate to the dock just as he was about to walk through.

Sam shot a glance at his brother just as he broke into the blue waves between the lights. Dean seemed to shimmer in the air for a moment, and shrink before stepping through. Bright green eyes scanned Sam's shocked face. "Jesus, Sammy. You look like you've seen a ghost." But the voice was too high pitched for Dean. It belonged to a young woman in a gray dress suit, dark blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun, although wisps were falling out around her face. She wore no jewelry except a ring on her right hand, a simple silver double band.

Quicker than a curse, Sam lifted his gun again. "Who the hell are you?"

"Dude, what the hell?!" asked the girl. She knocked the gun out of Sam's hand, and it skidded across the board walk. Sam grabbed her arms and tried to hold her, but she knew how to fight a man bigger than her. Twisting, she brought her knee up into Sam's groin and used his moment of pain to sweep his feet from under him, forcing him to the ground. Not willing to use a weapon on him, she pulled a zip tie from her skirt pocket and tied his hands behind his back. One knee on his back, she looked down at his face. "Let's try this again, little brother. You forget anything yet?"