Buenos Dias! (Good Morning!) Thanks for clicking on my story. This idea came to me in the middle of Math class (funny how the most boring and bland class I take could ever spark inspiration) and I thought it'd be an interesting story. There's no direct tag, just a fair amount of spoilers about season 4. So if you haven't seen this season yet, I'm gonna have to ask you to get your act together and sit down for some serious SN time before reading on. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

The police department of Monte Nido, Arizona was the epitome of its town: Small, quiet, and inactive. Occasionally a neighbor would come in and report that the boy next door had thrown his baseball through their kitchen window, and about once a week, Daryl Rice, or Drunken Daryl as he was known around town, was brought in to spend the night in a cell until his sobriety returned. Everything was familiar. Everything was routine.

That was until the day Joanna Finly was caught on tape viciously murdering her new sister-in-law.

Joanna's arrest caught the whole of Monte Nido by surprise. "She had always been such a nice, lovely girl." Elderly Mrs. Johnson told the police. "I used to have her baby-sit my cats for me when she was younger. I never would have expected this from her."

And apparently neither did Joanna. Several witnesses placed her at the Hunter's Moon, the local bar where she was celebrating her twenty-seventh birthday, when the video and warrant for her arrest was released. Her look, many said, was one of utter disbelief, and she kept repeating over and over again "That's not me. What the hell? That's not me!" But the authorities could not ignore the raw evidence in front of them, and no one could argue that the girl in the video was not the newly-wed Mrs. Finly.

Somehow, the events of the small town catastrophe reached the main stream media of Arizona, branching out to the small, rundown motel where Sam and Dean Winchester were kicking off their boots after a long hunt.

"Fan-Fricking-Tastic!" Dean grumbled as he threw his duffle bag on the ground and spun around in an attempt to examine the three long gorges across his back. "I hate werewolves."

Sam gave a low whistle as he, too, looked over the cuts. They were all deep and large, spilling blood profusely onto the gray and green, unbelievably stained motel carpet. Those were going to need a few of the famous Winchester stitches, along with a large bottle of hard alcohol.

"Well, if you had shot the thing when you should of, maybe your back wouldn't look like it got a massage from a cheese grater." Sam lectured, digging through their first-aid bag for a needle and stitching string. He pulled out the bottle of pure vodka they'd bought at the store on their way back to the room and dipped the tip of the needle into it before passing the bottle to Dean. The elder Winchester took a long swig of it, face tensing in response to its pang.

"Ha ha, very funny. I thought you were supposed to be having my back. Whatever happened to that plan?"

"Did you know there were two of them? Did you want to get your throat ripped out?"

"I want my back to not be mutalat- Ow! Jesus Christ, Sam!" Dean jumped as Sam jabbed the needle a little too harshly into Dean's shoulder.

"Sorry." The younger brother muttered without a hint of sincerity. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Dean taking another guzzle of the Vodka while Sam continued to patch him up a bit more gently then before. These stretched out silences were something they had quickly become used to after Dean's return from Hell and the unveiling of Sam's continued use of his powers. Though, needless to say, neither of the brothers enjoyed them. The tension that had grown between the previously inseparable duo over the last few months had become almost unbearable, and, even though neither one would admit it, especially after the incident with the Siren, the boys weren't completely sure they could still trust each other. And Dean's argument was once again supported by the events of the night when Sam "allowed" that fanged mutt to use his brother as a scratching post. Since when had the two begun turning their guns on each other instead of the monsters they hunt?

"There." Sam stated blandly after about fifteen minutes of stitching. Dean took one last scoff from the bottle before tossing it across the room, sending it straight into the trash bin on the opposite wall.

"Touch down."

"I think you mean basket." Sam corrected automatically as he pulled out his laptop and turned it on. He didn't hear Dean's mumble response, or did but ignored it anyway, and opened up his preferred research site. Preparing for the worst, Sam began scanning through the news reports, looking for anything regarding black smoke, sulfur, or creepy ten year old girls with white eyes and regularly scheduled temper tantrums that usually resulted in several dead bodies.

All he could find out of the hundreds of updates was something that looked like a vampire nest in Kentucky and an unexplained alibi problem in Arizona where the suspect was somehow in two places at once.

"Anything interesting?" Dean asked, already desperate for a hunt to take his mind of their current family issues.

Sam sighed. How were they ever going to find Lilith if Dean wouldn't even let him search for more then five seconds? Quickly, Sam preformed a mini 'enie-meenie-minie-mo' trial in his head between the two prospective hunts.

"There's something in Arizona, just twenty or so miles from the Californian border. Twenty- seven year old newly- wed, Joanna Finly, was arrested last night for the vicious murder of her sister-in-law, Nora Thompson." He quoted the article out loud. "A video tape of the killing was received by the police department at 9:28 pm, the same time Finly was spotted in the Hunter's Moon bar by at least a dozen witnesses. Finly repeatedly tells the police she had nothing to do with Thompson's murder….yata, yata, yata."

Sam looked up at his brother, already expecting him to jump up and start loading up the Impala. The elder brother looked distantly at the wall as he thought. "Huh. So, what do you think? Some shape-shifter again?"

"Only one way to find out." Sam replied, reluctantly closing the laptop. "Monte Nido's just a four hour drive from here-"

"So let's get going." Dean stood, wincing as his muscles pulled at the new stitches. He bent down slowly to grab his bag but looked quickly back up at Sam, who was still sitting at the desk, eyebrows raised.

"Dean, its two in the morning. We just got off a hunt. You wanna rest a bit before starting up another one?" The last one wasn't so much of a question. Sam needed sleep, he felt tired and impotent as if he wasn't capable of protect himself. Come to think of it, he'd been feeling like that a lot lately, even in the middle of the day after a few crappy cups of cheap diner coffee. The last time he'd felt…..powerful, for lack of a better description for it…. Was when he'd sucked the life out of Alistair. After he'd sucked the blood from Ruby's arm.

His stomach gave an involuntary jump at the thought, and he had to curl his fingers into fists to keep himself from being sick. He managed to keep his discomfort from showing in his face as Dean looked over at him, forehead furrowed. After a moment, he dropped his duffle again and collapsed on the bed. "Fine, Lazy Linda, we'll wait till morning." He muttered before realizing just how tired he really was as well. That and the addition of the Vodka in his system sent the hunter into an immediate siesta, fully clothed and everything.

Sam watched his brother for a while, watching as his chest moved slowly up and down. Against his will, his mind flashed back to that dreaded night when he was forced to watch Hell Hounds tear apart that chest, reducing it to almost nothing.

Anger flaring even higher then before, he took out his laptop again and filed through page after page of news stories, but there was no symbol of Lilith's presence anywhere.

TBC

Ta-Da. Chapter one. Short and sweet. Leave me a review on your way out if you think I should continue it or if you think it's a load of C*** that should be deleted as soon as possible. Obviously, I prefer the former, but I'm open to anything. Till next time!

Holly