A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back with another multi-chaptered fic! :) Really hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the last :) Thanks to kissacazador for reviewing the last drabble I did – her reviews are always consistently rewarding and really motivate me to keep writing!

Thanks too to shock-blanket my unofficial beta – she rocks!

Hope you guys enjoy this! I really hope to hear your thoughts!

The Night Howler

By KansasAngel94

Patrick was making his way back home after a night out with his friends. He had stayed out long after his friends had gone home, chatting to some young lady, charming her with his strong Irish accent only to have her boyfriend – big, strong looking guy – show up and possessively put his arm around her waist, making it clear that if Patrick wanted to keep his face the way it was, he had better clear off.

He wasn't stupid, so he did.

He reached the end of the block, turning to face the street which, a few houses down, his apartment was located. But then he saw her. This blindingly beautiful woman standing at the corner of the road opposite him. She was wearing a knee-length dress that sat on her body like a waterfall, flowing and loose. Her hair was a dark brown, with a slight curl and reached her waist. Her skin had that sun-kissed glow that seemed to warm the air around her. Patrick stumbled across the deserted street towards the beauty. Her eyes gazed up at him – they were a bright shade of blue – that beautiful colour that exists in the eyes of heaven's most glorious angels.

"Hello beautiful." Patrick called out, turning on his Irish charm that had worked for him many times before, "Not often I see someone like you out this late at night."

She didn't say anything, a smile simply forming on her face.

"Hello?" He questioned – confused by the woman's lack of response. "You have a name?"

Still, she said nothing.

Patrick gazed at her questioningly, "Hey, why don't you come back with me to my apartment? You look lonely." Weird or not, this girl was hot, and Patrick had really wanted to get laid tonight. She bowed her head, looking at the ground. Patrick's eyebrows rose in question,

"Hey are you O.K.?" He questioned her further, leaning over slightly to try and see her face. Seconds passed, and still, no response. All of a sudden, her head shot up, eyes wide – their colour completely drained – no blue, not even the black of her pupil – they were a ghastly white, like two glass orbs staring out at him.

Patrick jumped back, "No. I know what you are!" His voice trembled. He turned and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, soon they began to burn up, but he refused to slow down, after about fifteen minutes of running, he stopped. He looked around, hoping he had ran far enough to escape her.

There was no sign of her. He was safe. He gasped in gulps of air, replenishing his body's supply of oxygen. He turned around, and came face to face with the white-eyed woman.

"No. Please." He pleaded.

Her lips moved into a small smile, wickedness burning in her empty eyes. From inside her hair she pulled out a delicately detailed knife. She sounded a sharp wail, smashing the windows of the buildings around them, and bringing Patrick helplessly to his knees in front of her. Once he was on his knees she took her knife and slashed it across his throat, stopping her piercing cry. Her appearance shifted back to its original look – red hair, pale skin, wearing a long gown that was the colour of night.

She gazed down at Patrick, who was quickly dying on the ground at her feet.

"I'm having a great evening, thank you for asking." She replied to his earlier question with a cackle, before disappearing with the breeze.

-Supernatural-

Sam was snoozing in the Impala next to Dean. They had just finished a rather difficult hunt and were in much need of rest, however, their need to put as much distance as possible between them and New York overcame all else.

Dean looked across at his brother, smiling when he saw his eyes drooping as Sam lost the battle with his heavy eye-lids, remembering that not so long ago, Sam never had the ability to fall asleep. Dean looked closely at the next road sign as he passed it, they were only 20 miles from Boston – he decided that they would try and find a motel there for the night, they couldn't deny themselves the sleep their bodies craved any longer.

Upon entering Boston, Dean pulled the Impala into the first motel he seen that looked like it would be in their price range. Looking across at Sam, who, despite his huge size, looked very small and innocent in his rested state, and deciding to let him sleep for a little while longer while he got them a room, Dean exited the Impala, closing the door as gently as possible to not wake the sleeping giant inside, and made his way over to the reception area of the motel.

Sam screamed in pain as the flames licked his body, scorching heat that he couldn't escape from no matter how he moved, then everything changed, a blade was being sliced down his arm, blood spilling out on the ground, a scream that was not his own came from his left and he saw Adam lying beside him, under similar pain, the image changed again; he was beating up some cop, Samuel was there, the image changed again; he was watching as something did something to Dean, something bad, he could tell, he just couldn't quite make it out. His vision got more and more blurry.

"Sam!"

Sam's eyes shot open. Dean was standing holding open the passenger door of the Impala, a worried look on his face.

"Dean. Where are we?" Sam questioned, still disorientated from his nightmare but wanted to take that worried look off his brother's face.

"Some motel in Boston. Dude you O.K.?" Dean asked, clearly something was wrong, something Sam wanted to avoid talking about, which in Dean's world, meant they were talking about it.

"Yeah, fine." Sam replied nonchalantly, brushing away his brother's concern.

Dean didn't move, his eyebrows raising, clearly not believing Sam. "Dean! I said I'm fine okay? Now lets go – we need some sleep." Sam continued as he unfolded himself out of the Impala, Dean stepping aside, too tired to argue with a very stubborn Sam in the middle of the night. He would talk to him tomorrow about it.

Once inside the motel room, the brother's dumped their bags on the ground first chance they got and stumbled sleepily towards the beds, before flopping down on them, fully dressed. Dean looked across at Sam who was already asleep, worry plagued his tired mind before exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep.

-Supernatural-

The boys did not wake from their sleep until near noon the next morning. After he had showered, Sam waited for Dean to finish before going for some breakfast. While he was waiting, Sam decided to do some research on the local area, just to check if there might be a hunt here for them.

"Sam, I'm going to get breakfast – you coming or what?"

"Yep, I'm coming."

They entered the little diner, making a beeline for one of the window booths.

"Hello boys," a plump middle-aged woman came over to them with a huge smile on her face, "Are you two ready to order?"

"Yep, I'll have the special, side of bacon." Dean answered, smiling up at the waitress.

"Erm. . ." Sam started, unsure of what to choose. Everything was meaty, and probably greasy.

"He'll have the same, thanks." Dean continued for him, much to Sam's annoyance.

"Okie Dokie. You boys want coffee?"

"Yes, black, no sugar's for the two." Taking a glance at her name-tag Dean continued, "Thanks Michaela."

"That's no problem hun. I'll be back soon with your food." She replied before walking back towards the counter.

Sam pulled his laptop out of its case once she had left, opening it to the website of 'The Boston Times.' The headline at the front had caught his attention, but he never had the chance to read into it before leaving for breakfast.

"THIRD VICTIM KILLED IN NIGHT HORROR ATTACKS. Police unsure of what to do next."

"Hey Dean. I think I found us a job." Sam started after their food had arrived.

"Yeah?" Dean replied through a mouthful of bacon.

Sam looked at his brother with a look of disbelieving disgust on his face, "How do you eat so much all at the one time?"

Dean looked at Sam, annoyed but with a slight smile on his face, "It's a talent Sammy," replied Dean sarcastically, "Now will you tell me about this case?"

Sam just rolled his eyes and answered his brother, "Patrick O'Neill was the last of three victim's who had their throats slashed in the past four months." Sam paused to let Dean take in this information. "He came here seven months ago from Ireland after graduating in Journalism in college. One of his friend's, Eoghain Campbell, was the first victim. Not much info on him but he sounds like a good enough kid y'know."

"Sounds like one for us." Dean stated. "I'll go to the morgue – you go to his friends – is his family here with him?"

"No, they're flying over, should arrive tonight."

"Okay let's go." Dean rose, throwing some money on the table and exited the small diner, followed closely by Sam.

A/N Thoughts? Do you guys like it? Please review!

Happy New Year by the way! :D