Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything pertaining to it; only my writing. I do not own anything recognizable. All rights go to their respective owners.

A/N: This is an original idea I had after a two-month period of watching Supernatural. It's an episode I wrote set in season 2, so you can tell I've been working on it for a while lol So welcome, thanks for reading, and enjoy *smiley

Previously on Supernatural:

…We're not exactly the Bradys…

…I don't know; it was like he was downloading your thoughts and memories…

…Daddy dearest isn't here…

…They need fresh human blood to survive…

…Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill 'em is by beheading…

…Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous for us to be together…

…Dead bodies all washed up later in the bay, too deteriorated to draw firm conclusions…

…No hearts…

Duluth, Minnesota

Four days ago

The house was silent, nothing out of the ordinary considering the time was so late in the night. The woman was watching the cooking channel but dozing off, and decided that she would be better off going upstairs for the night. As she stood and flicked off the set she thought she heard a whoosh of air, and looked behind her, to the side. Nothing. How strange. She continued on her way and climbed the staircase, then entered her bedroom. Her husband was in the TV room; she could hear the news on its loop. She entered her bathroom to brush her teeth, and, spitting once, she called her husband's name. When no response came back to her, she repeated, "Scott, come to bed!"

Shoving away worry the woman left for the television room. "Scott, honey?" Upon stopping outside the door, she saw. Scott was torn apart, his limbs scattered around the room in no particular order. And the strangest thing of all was that there was no blood. The parts were white as sheets.

Unaware that she had been screaming but sure that if she didn't get away she would faint, the woman spun around to run, to call someone, but seemed to hit a brick wall. What sort of wall had hands? Gleaming teeth overtook her vision as she screamed once more.

Supernatural

"The Hybrid"

Present

North Carolina

"You seen this yet?" Dean dropped a newspaper in front of his brother. They'd been having breakfast at a Tim Hortons when Dean had gotten up to use the bathroom. To do so he'd had to pass a paper stand and, leaving a couple bucks, took one for that day on his way back to their table.

Sam looked up at Dean and shook his head. "We have another gig or what?"

Dean shrugged, crossing his arms. He jutted his chin at the paper on the table. "See for yourself." Sam sighed and took it, scanning the page. Found Dead in Home, it read.

Scott Reed, 50, was found torn apart in his

home last Saturday, drained of blood;

his wife, Clarissa Reed, 48, unconscious.

Police do not know what to make of this

strange event, as Chief Sergeant Samuel

Cooper told reporters, "We've never seen

anything like this before now. It's completely

new territory, but we will do whatever we can to

conquer it."

When Sam turned his eyes back up to his brother he saw Dean was shaking his head. "Isn't that the biggest load of crap you've ever heard? That has to be supernatural, right? Torn apart?"

Sam tilted his head as he scanned the page, giving a nod. "Says the body was drained of blood. And it didn't say cut apart which makes me think that the guy was torn to pieces just for kicks."

Dean sat down and sipped his coffee. "Exactly. What we need is to check out this corpse."

"But where're we headed?"

Duluth, Minnesota

The Reed House

"Gotta love having suits handy…" Dean murmured, locking the Impala. The property was occupied by only a few police officers that afternoon, whom of which were scattered around, speaking in low tones to each other and into their walkie-talkies.

"What d'you think they've got?" Sam quietly asked Dean, who shrugged as he glanced around.

"Can't be sure," he said. "Probably just pinned it on a sicko who gets his jollies from tearing people apart. Come on." Sam, a step behind Dean, approached a couple of officers and, as they'd done so many times before, flashed their badges.

"U.S. Marshals Walsh and Hope," Sam announced. "Sent to check this place out." The policemen turned to face the boys and checked them out. "Go on in," one said. Sam nodded at him and gestured at Dean to follow, who also nodded at the men as he passed.

"These guys are too easy…" he mumbled as they entered the house through the front door. The home was spacious, they could tell, as they stood in the foyer. It also appeared to be suspiciously untouched.

"You'd think whatever monster killed Reed would've rampage this place," Sam said, quieting his voice as a cop headed out the door behind them.

Dean nodded as he looked around, walking into the living room. "Wanna check upstairs?" His brother nodded and from the living room made their way, slowly, up the stairs. After a quick glance around at the top of the staircase, Dean pulled the E.M.F. from his suit jacket to get a read.

"Anything?" Sam asked.

Shaking his head Dean ducked it into the room closest to him. "Nope. Nothin'. You?"

"Same. That's the place though," Sam said, referring to the room Dean had just looked into. The doorway was guarded by tape.

"Yup. But there's nothing in there," Dean told him. "The police sweeped everything. Spotless. You don't think there's any stray hair, do you?"

"Doubt it. Most of the furniture is gone. And even if there were we already know what killed those people. All we've gotta do is trap it—"

Dean held up a hand, using the other to stuff the E.M.F. away. "You hear that?"

Sam listened for a moment and shook his head. "I hear two women talking. What about it?"

"It's not just two women, Sam." Just then, the women exited the bedroom just behind Sam. Dean didn't appear surprised, as he had figured it out seconds ago, but Sam had to glance down to hide his shock. "You," Dean shared a brief look with his brother, "must be Clarissa Reed." The woman beside Jo nodded. She had graying blonde hair tied back in a bun and green eyes that shone wetly.

"Yes, I am," she said. "You are?"

"Oh, we're U.S. Marshals," Dean informed her. "I'm David and that's my buddy Shep. We thought we'd come and scope the place out." He eyed Jo sharply, briefly enough that Clarissa took no notice.

"The local police have been here for days," she said, her eyebrows drawing together.

"And I interviewed her for the tribune," Jo spoke up, appearing proud of herself.

Dean, ignoring her, laughed awkwardly. "Right. Well, doesn't hurt to be positive they've done their job well, does it?" Sam nudged him, a fake smile pasted to his lips as Dean glared at him. Looking back to Clarissa, Sam's expression turned to one of sympathy.

"Mrs. Reed—"

"Please, call me Clarissa," she put in.

"Clarissa, then. I know all of this is rather inconvenient timing, but we'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

Clarissa looked to Jo. "Was that all, hon'?" she asked her.

Jo's eyes went to the boys and then to Clarissa as she struggled for an excuse to stay.

"Um, I guess so," she said. "Thank you, Mrs. Reed. Take care." Passing the brothers Jo smiled mock sweetly, Dean back at her just as intensely.

"Now, I've left the couch in my bedroom; I think I might sit down again before we start," Clarissa told the boys. They nodded and followed her. Clarissa sat and Sam did as well, with his hands folded, while Dean remained standing and allowed his eyes to scan the room for anything strange.

Pressing his lips together, Sam began, "So, Saturday night. Do you remember anything?"

"I'm not too sure, I was so frightened. I must have been hallucinating," she said.

"What happened?" Sam asked. Leaning down in the slightest, Dean listened intently.

"Well, I was getting ready to go to bed. I called for Scott to come but he didn't respond, and the television was still on when I went to the den to see if he'd fallen asleep. But, when I got there I saw—" Mrs. Reed covered her mouth with one hand, her eyes filling.

"What did you see?"

Sam widened his eyes at his unempathetic brother, a look that hissed Shut it, before he looked back to Clarissa.

"I–I saw... his body had been—dismembered. His–his arms, legs, everything," Mrs. Reed said, gaze haunted. "And the most terrifying thing was that for all that, there wasn't even any blood, anywhere!" Dean nodded, glancing out the window. That's what the article had mentioned. They needed more than that.

"And afterwards?" he questioned.

"I was going to run and call the police, an ambulance or–or something, I don't know. But then this–this thing appeared in my way, like a–a boulder. I didn't know what it was and when it opened its mouth it had these teeth—"

Interesting. At this development, Dean stood up straight. Sam, his curiosity also piqued, echoed, "Teeth? What sort of teeth?"

"I told you I must've been seeing things. They were…" She breathed out. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were an animal's teeth." Sam and Dean met eyes and the latter tilted his head to the door.

"And that's all you remember?" Sam ignored him.

"Well, there were ropes too, on the floor by the chair. But I must've blacked out. I woke up at the hospital. I–I don't know why the attacker didn't kill me like it did Scott." She twisted her hands in her lap and Sam resisted the urge to comfort her by holding one of them in his.

"We're all relieved he didn't, ma'am. Now will you be sleeping here tonight, or have you been staying with a friend until the move?"

"I'm staying with my mother," Clarissa told him.

"Good, best to be safe," Dean put in with a smile. "Now, ma'am, we're very sorry to leave so suddenly but we've gotta get back to, uh, headquarters—"

"Yes; of course. Go on. Thank you for coming by. Do I need to walk you out?" They shook their heads and exchanged their goodbyes, heading out the doorway. At the foot of the stairs, Sam said, leaning in, "What is this thing, Dean? What sort of monster drains victims and tears them apart?"

"A sadistic vampire?" his brother suggested.

"They're all sadistic and none of them have ever done this before. They drain or turn, simple as that." Sam pushed out a breath and pulled at his collar. "How do you think we kill whatever it is?"

"Hold on a minute, Sam. You keep sayin' 'it,' but what if there's a group of those whatever-they-ares? We can't just show up and take them on, alright; we need a plan."

"Since when?" Dean rolled his eyes and Sam continued, "Okay, look, Dean, after we research we'll bring every weapon that could possibly kill them and we will."

"Since when have I become the responsible one in this operation?" Dean muttered, walking by Sam and heading back down the stairs. Jo was waiting, leaning against the frame of the door.

"What the hell do you guys think you're doing here?" she snapped at them as they walked out into the sunshine.

"Oh, we think that we're going to kill these monsters, sweetheart," Dean replied.

"Why do you think I'm here?" she retorted. "My bar is a couple blocks away; I've been here for days scouting this place out!"

"Good work. Now step back and leave this to the professionals, before you get hurt."

"Dean," Sam tried.

Dean paid him no mind. "I mean it, Jo. Your mom'll have our asses if you have so much as a scratch on you."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you aren't responsible for me," she tossed back over her shoulder as she headed for her truck. The boys watched her go and Dean kicked the ground.

"Why does she show up everywhere we go?" he demanded. "And how could we forget her bar is in town?"

"Dean, relax. Maybe she'll be helpful."

Dean shook his head as he climbed into the Impala. "Yeah, right. I just can't wait to get outta this monkey suit."

Sam smirked as he buckled up. "Don't get too excited, ape boy. Can't change yet."

"But this time, you get to touch the body," Sam told him. Dean rolled his eyes as he pushed open the correct door of the morgue. He pulled one case open and Sam assisted in lifting out the container for the head, along with the other parts. "Ready?" he asked.

Dean pursed his lips. "As I'll ever be," he replied grimly. Sam nodded and, lifting his eyebrows, pulled the lid off the box holding Scott Reed's head.

Brows furrowed, Dean leaned towards it, and Sam wrinkled his nose. His brother stopped and looked at him. "Shut it, Sam. We have to do this." He examined the inside of Reed's mouth. "No retractable fangs," he stated. While he did this, Sam looked at the arms. They were scratched, and as the report had assured, there was no blood to be seen.

"Look like claw scratches, and the heart's gone," Sam told Dean, who looked over.

"Werewolf?" he suggested.

Sam shook his head, pressing his lips together as he studied. "But they don't drink blood. What else could it be?"

"What drinks blood besides a vampire?" Dean asked.

"Nothing, not like this. The blood is gone, Dean. Not a trace. We haven't ever seen anything like this; body ripped to shreds, bloodless limbs. Heart's missing… Can it be something we've never hunted before?"

Dean shrugged. "Could be. We haven't been alive forever, Sammy. So it shreds like a werewolf, heart is obviously gone. Drains like a vampire, so… what? It's some sort of—hybrid?"

Sam's eyes shot up to his brother's and he stood up straight. "Exactly! Come on, help me put these back," he said. "We've gotta get Dad's journal."

"Anything?" Dean inquired, entering the motel room. They'd changed out of their suits and while Sam worked, Dean showered and went for coffees. He set one next to his brother and sat on the bed behind him, eyeing the book in Sam's hands."

"Yeah, I think so. Dad's journal mentions something called a Vaewolf. What it says in the book makes me think of the whole Greek God deal, where they'd shift forms to appear to the wife as her lover," Sam said. "The Shapeshifters impregnate the werewolf—"

"What, Shapeshifters can't use protection now?" Dean's grin slipped at Sam's eye roll.

"And," he continued pointedly, "its offspring would be a Shapeshifter and a werewolf."

Dean nodded, his arms crossed. "Okay, fine, and they're vampires because…?"

"Because then they call in a female Shapeshifter. After waiting until the hybrid is grown, she goes and sleeps with him. It's a backwards reaction, because since she isn't really a vampire, only appearing as one, you wouldn't think she could become pregnant with a hybrid baby. But against all laws of twisted monster nature, she does. Pregnant with not only a shifter baby but one that's also werewolf and vampire. The werewolf quarter supplies the 'human' part too," Sam concluded, air quotes present around human.

"And we have an up-and-coming race of hybrids to take down," Dean interpreted.

Sam nodded as he rubbed his chin, eyes trained on the page. "Pretty much, yeah," he agreed. "And to complicate this further, they don't have to turn on the full moon, only whenever they want to."

Dean scoffed. "Oh, perfect. Immortal?"

"Yup." Sam shoved his hand through his hair, blowing his lips out.

"Alright. How do we kill these bastards?"

"It says here that they may have the weaknesses of the parent species, which could mean anything, and that they're otherwise virtually indestructible."

"Werewolves can't survive being torn to pieces, right? I say we shoot 'em in the heart, chop off the heads with silver knives, rip 'em up and burn the remains. Just to be safe. Or, fail-safe: wood-chipper the sons of bitches."

"Yeah," Sam said, closing the book and standing. "Fortunately for us silver kills werewolves and Shapeshifters both."

Dean slapped his thighs as he pushed off the comforter. "Lucky us. And if we've got some luck now, that means sooner or later we're gonna be very, very screwed."