Disclaimer: I own no one and nothing

Have only just discovered this fandom. So please be gentle.

Planning on writing a crossover once I have a better grip on the characters

Set season five or thereabouts. Maybe a bit before

Some people only believe in . . .

What They Can See and Touch

One of the agents looked up with a frown as an eerie howl echoed through the building. "What on earth?" he asked. "Who let a dog in here?"

Their prisoner meanwhile had gone tense as a board. "That's no dog," Dean breathed. "That's a hell-hound" He ignored the officers' shared looks as he frantically searched the video feeds. Where? Where was it?

The sight of a vase falling off a small table for no explicable reason was all the proof he needed. Green eyes jumping ahead a screen to the pretty young woman walking down the hall. "There," he shouted, gesturing as best he could with his bound hands. "You've got to warn her."

"Be quiet Winchester." The agent who had managed to get the jump on him grabbed his shoulders, moving to pull his prisoner away as he instinctively looked up at the screens.

"Damn you! It's going to kill her."

It was too late. The woman's mouth opened in an unheard scream as the unseen creature pounced on her, ripping her throat out. The tears in her clothing showing that whatever had attacked her had claws as well as fangs. Blood sprayed everywhere, decorating the floor and walls.

"What the hell!" Agent Periss yelped, gaining the attention of the others.

Dean jerked out of his grip. "I told you. It's a hell-hound" His eyes were a little wild. "Now do something before someone else ends up dead."

Abruptly the other shook his head. What had he been thinking? Winchester was insane. "It's just a trick," he told the others looking back at Dean. "That brother of yours will have to do . . ." His words were cut of by the sound of his radio crackling.

"Periss. Periss come in."

"Yes."

"This is Anderson. There is something in the building. It looks like it took down Chang on the way in. He's dead."

The agent thought about it for a moment. "Prove it," he said.

"What?" the other officer sounded startled.

"Prove that you're Anderson."

There was a long silence. "Murder at the old duck pond last year. You admitted that you were terrified of geese. Happy now?"

Periss grimaced. "Not really." But at least now he knew it wasn't a trick.

"I told you," Dean interrupted. "It's a fucking hell-hound They're invisible to the naked eye." Though this ones progress was easy enough to follow for the moment. It was leaving bloody tracks in its wake. He paused a moment to think. "And it is probably not alone."

Suddenly he had the full attention of everyone in the room. "What do you mean?" one demanded. They had all seen the mutilated body it had left behind. It was still on the TV screen.

"Hell-hounds are animals, plain and simple. I very much doubt one attacked the office where I am being held, unarmed, and without allies, just because."

A blond man near the back of the small crowd sneered. "In that case I vote we just give you to it. No reason not to."

Dean rolled his eyes. "For the last time I did not kill those women. It was a shape-shifter." Exhibit A, the body that had been buried wearing his face. He took a step forward, somehow managing to look intimidating despite the handcuffs. "And as for a reason, whoever is behind this would kill you regardless."

His lips formed a tight thin line. This was no time for jokes. "Now," the hunter told them. "I need you to do exactly what I say, exactly when I say it. Otherwise, we are all going to die." Or worse, Dean thought to himself.

"What do we do?" It was Periss who finally spoke. As the agent in charge, it was his decision whether or not to listen to Winchester. And he knew now that something was going down. Something he didn't understand, but the younger man did.

"First, we need salt. A lot of it. Next, we need my weapons."

"Forget it," the tall redhead with stunning blue eyes snapped, pulling out her service weapon. It was clear she knew how to use it too.

Dean just sighed. "I didn't ask you to give me one of them." Though it would be nice if the agents could untie him. "Look," he told them all. "Your guns might slow something down, but mine were designed for shit like this."

The hell-hound howled again. Causing them all to shift nervously. That had sounded closer. Much closer.

"Let's go," the demon hunter snapped.

Five minutes down the line they were in Evidence. A line of salt poured in front of every doorway the group had passed. Protecting anyone who had taken refuge. Dean was free of the handcuffs. Not because he had asked, but because he swiped the key. None of the agents felt it worth the bother to try to get them back on.

"I need that marker," Dean said. He groaned as none of the agents moved to comply. "Come on, it's not like I asked for a knife."

One of them tossed it, the hunter grabbing it mid-air before surveying the room. "And now I need a boost."

"Why?" Periss asked a moment later. Dean perched on his shoulders. By this time he had decided to just go with it. Though that didn't mean he didn't want to know what was going on.

"The hound is probably under the control of a demon," the brunette said. Brow furrowed as he concentrated on the markings he was drawing on the ceiling. "That is why I am making a Devil's Trap." He finished it, quickly climbing back down.

"It might try to convince you it's human. Don't be fooled."

"So what?" it was the blond again. "We just shot whoever comes through the door."

Dean gave him a look. "You know," he told him. "You are really starting to piss me off." The man had done nothing but complain and question him this entire time. "An easy way to determine possession," the hunter said to the room at large. "Is to use the name of the Son of God. Christos."

"Then what?" the redhead asked, loading her new shotgun with one of the many kinds of special ammunition the brothers carried. She sighted down the barrel, nodding with satisfaction. The weapon was well-maintained.

"If they are possessed, their eyes will flash a different color." He hesitated before throwing in a little extra information. "Black eyes are the lowest level of demon, then yellow. If it has white eyes," Dean cleared his throat. "Well then we are probably screwed."

The agents just stared at him in disbelief. He couldn't come up with something more encouraging than that.

Dean smiled tightly. "Here it comes."

There was a yelp as the hell-hound ran into the salt line. Bouncing off to crash into the wall. Red, as her first boyfriend had called her, didn't hesitate. Taking her best guess as to where the creature was she fired. Then she fired again. And again.

The sound of applause filled the hallway. A slender figure stepping out of the shadows. "Bravo." The demon took one step forward, then another. Stopping right in front of the doorway.

The agents hesitated. Beginning to lower their weapons; this man wasn't even armed. Their prisoner didn't. "Christos," the hunter snarled. In an instant the guns were back up. Whatever this creature was, it wasn't human.

The demon made no move to step into the room. Clucking its tongue as it examined the ceiling partially hidden behind the awnings. "Dean, Dean, Dean," it chided. "Do you truly think I am so stupid as to walk directly into a trap."

The brunette shrugged, regarding his enemy through lowered lashes. "No," he admitted. "Not really."

That is when the last agent struck. Hitting the demon from behind, and causing it to stumble just a few crucial steps. Right into the Devil's Trap. "No," it snarled unable to move. "No!"

Dean grinned. "Oh yes." He wandered over to the table, picking up a bottle of holy water. He couldn't kill the creature. Not without Ruby's knife, and he wasn't about to waste one of the Colt's last bullets on some no name. But he could banish it.

"Back to hell for you," he told the demon. "And this time, stay there." He preformed the exorcism with the ease of long practice. Stoically ignoring its screams. The agents all taking an instinctive step backwards as a black cloud emerged from the man's nose and mouth. The former vessel collapsing like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

There was a moment of silence. "Well," Periss asked at last. "Is it over?"

"Dean."

The agent yelped at the sound of a new voice directly behind him. Fumbling with his weapon as he turned to face the new threat. "Who the hell are you?" he asked raising the gun. "Another demon?"

The newcomer blinked. "I am Castiel. An angel of the Lord."

The elder Winchester sighed, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. Forget it, it wasn't worth it. He walked over to the angel's side. "Just get me out of here Cas."

"As you wish." An instant later, the two figures, and the weapons, were gone. Vanished without a trace. The agents looked at each other, then Dean's handwork, then back at each other. Had this really happened?

Finally the redhead sighed. "I am so not writing the report."

Finis

I apologize if I made any mistakes with fighting hell-hounds/demons

Like I said, I can count the number of episodes I have seen on one hand