New Hope Community Church,

Antioch, Alabama.

Now.

The heels of Jennifer Bane's black patent pumps clacked loudly against the wet pavement as she dashed across the parking lot of New Hope Community Church, trying to stay as dry as possible. The early morning drizzle seemed to have turned into a downpour the exact moment she had stepped out of her Honda Accord. The rain was coming down around her so heavily now she could barely see where she was going.

Jennifer was halfway to the door of the church when a black 1967 Chevy Impala swerved into the empty parking space she was attempting to cross.

To avoid being flattened by the classic automobile, she was forced to jump out of the way and into a puddle as the driver slammed on the brakes with a squeal. Jennifer somehow managed to keep her balance, and undeterred, she continued across the parking lot.

Finally, she reached the front door, and Lamar Draper, a respected older gentleman of the congregation, ushered her inside.

"Come in outta that rain, dear," Lamar told her, tearing off a handful of paper towels from the roll he was holding. "You might need these to dry yourself off a bit." He held the towels out to her, and she gratefully took them. "You were nearly road kill just then. You alright?"

"Oh, yes, sir," she said with a smile. "I'm fine."

Thunder bellowed from above. The tile floor quivered beneath their feet, and the small wooden cross mounted on the wall behind Lamar wobbled on its nail. He reached up to steady it. "Goodness. These thunderstorms just won't go away will they? With all this rain we've been gettin' the past couple of weeks, we could float Noah's ark."

"I wouldn't be surprised if we could."

Lamar patted her on the back and smiled, just like he did every time they spoke. "Now be careful, dear, the floor's wet."

"Thank you." She took his advice and cautiously moved across the narthex, wringing the rainwater out of her brown ringlets with a paper towel. She relaxed a little as she crossed the threshold to the carpeted sanctuary.

The church still smelled of flowers, Jennifer noticed. An overwhelming array of flora had covered the altar the day before. Sprays of white roses, wreaths of multicolored carnations and chrysanthemums, baskets of purple lilies and striking yellow gladioli, all placed there in memory of Trevor Bradley, a twenty-three-year-old senior at the local university. A new church member. A guy liked by anyone who knew him. He had died unexpectedly days earlier, and it had been a devastating loss to the community.

Jennifer followed the nave to a side aisle where she seated herself on an empty pew, a pew directly across from the one Trevor Bradley had occupied just last Sunday.

She decided to distract herself from the sad thought by dusting the rain droplets from her knee-length black dress. But she soon realized the attempt was pointless. The droplets were quickly drying and disappearing within the black chiffon. Jennifer smoothed her skirt, straightened her posture, and discreetly glanced about the sanctuary as people poured through the doors.

She knew every individual of the rapidly-growing crowd by name. She had been a member of New Hope for all of her twenty-two years, and during the last ten of them, she had become very involved in church functions. Everyone in the crowd knew Jennifer, too.

The side door opened, making way for a stream of Bible-toters.

"Good mornin', Jennifer," Donnie Carmichael greeted her with his customary smile. He was a round-faced, glasses-wearing, sanguine man, a church deacon who had sat on the front row for fifty years.

"Hello," she replied, returning his smile.

His wife Glenda followed him and acknowledged Jennifer as well. Behind Glenda came George and Cindy Cheetwood, then Tom and Elaine Hartman, and after them, Joseph and Maryann Boid. Jennifer spoke to each of them as they passed by.

The side door closed for a moment. Jennifer kept her eyes on it, waiting to see which faithful member would emerge next.

She halfway expected Trevor Bradley to come in as he had every Sunday morning for the past few months- quietly, with his eyes on the floor and his new leather King James Version tucked under his left arm. Upon passing her pew, he would turn to her, smile shyly, and give her a soft "Hey there, Jennifer."

Her heart sank as she realized she would never again see Trevor's smile nor hear his greeting.

The doorknob turned, and the side door pushed open, revealing two young men Jennifer had never seen before. Two very handsome young men, looking much like strangers in an unfamiliar place.

Thunder shook the building once more.


"What now, smartass?" Dean Winchester asked his younger yet much taller brother as they came into the sanctuary. They stopped at the back of the room and looked around, confused.

"Dean!" Sam Winchester scolded him, appalled that his brother felt no conviction after swearing in church.

"Oh, come on. You know we look as out of place as we feel," Dean complained, studying the church-goers in their dressy attire. He looked down at his own layered shirts, dark washed jeans, and steel-toed boots. Sam's clothing was no fancier. "We're totally underdressed."

"Well, I didn't think we'd end up in a church service."

"No one did. And just why are we in one again?"

"We're taking that Blake Cavender guy's advice," Sam said. "He said Trevor spent most of his time hanging out at church, so we're gonna talk to the people who supposedly knew him best."

"Yeah, well, there's gotta be a better way to do that."

"Can you think of one?" Sam snapped.

"…Not at the moment, no."

"Okay. Then just to try to fit in."

"You won't have any problem with that," Dean sneered.

Sam ignored the insult. "Just talk to the church members and see what they know about Trevor Bradley."

"Alright, Mr. Know-It-All. Who do you suggest we talk to first?"

Sam's eyes scanned the sanctuary full of people. "I don't know."

Dean studied the place as well. He suddenly grinned. "Well. I think I found a good place to start."

"Where?"

Dean cocked his head toward a pew filled with young ladies.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, would you? This is a house of worship."

"I know." Dean's grin grew wider as he led the way down the aisle. Sam reluctantly followed. Dean stopped at the end of a pew that held a shapely young brunette sitting alone. "Excuse me, miss, is anyone sitting here?"

The girl turned around to face them. She smiled. "No." She scooted down a bit, making room for them. "Go ahead."

Dean recognized her features immediately. "You're the chick I almost bagged in the parking lot." He slid onto the pew and planted himself beside her. "Sorry about that."

"It's alright," she said. "Nice car, by the way."

Pleasantly surprised by the compliment, Dean beamed. "Thank you. I'm Dean. This is my brother, Sam." Sam waved. "We're new in town, and we're, well, you know." His smile widened. "We're just looking for that right place of worship."

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Jennifer," she said politely, extending her hand to them.

"Nice to meet you too," Sam smiled.

Jennifer smiled back. "You just moved here?"

"Just passing through, actually," Dean said. "And you know how it is. We just can't go one week without our Sunday morning dose of the Lord. So we thought we'd try this place today, see how the Holy Spirit moves-"

Sam elbowed his brother and interrupted him. "So, Jennifer, are you a member here?"

The thrusting of Sam's elbow into Dean's side had been discreet but perceived by Jennifer. She hesitated before responding. "Yeah." She glanced from brother to brother distrustfully. "I've come here all my life."

Dean whistled. "Wow." He turned to his brother and muttered, "She's all yours'."

"That's very admirable," Sam told her politely. He glared at Dean. "You must be happy here."

A bit suspicious, she continued to study them. "Mm-hmm."

"I suppose you knew Trevor Bradley," Dean said.

She nodded. "He was really active in our college and career ministry."

"We read about his death in the paper," Dean continued. "Terrible. He must have had a lot of health problems."

"No." Jennifer frowned. "None that I knew of. He always seemed very healthy. In fact, he was kind of a health freak. He played sports. He worked out all the time."

"Do you know what happened to him?" Sam inquired.

She shook her head. "No one will really say."

"Did he have any family here?" Dean questioned her.

"No. And not anywhere else, either, as far as I know. He transferred here from South Carolina, I think, to go to Hamilton State. They gave him a full scholarship. He made like a thirty-one on the ACT."

"Wow," Sam commented, impressed.

"Yeah. He was a really smart guy. I had a pre-calculus class with him a couple of semesters ago, and he breezed right through it."

"So you go to Hamilton State University too?"

"Yep. I'm a senior. I graduate next week."

Sam smiled. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." Jennifer sighed. "Trevor would have graduated-"

"Good morning, everyone," the music minister cut in from the stage. "Welcome to New Hope." Jennifer shrugged and turned her attention to the front of the church. "It's a good day to be in the Lord's house, isn't it? Let's all stand together as we sing praises to the Heavenly Father!"

Everyone rose to their feet.

Except Dean.

He looked at Sam, who motioned for him to stand. Dean sighed and got up. Once the music began, he whispered, "How about we go check out Trevor's apartment?"

"Sure. After this is over," Sam said softly.

"What?"

"Just sing, okay? Don't blow our cover."

Dean shoved his hands into his pants pockets and rolled his eyes once more.


When the worship service was over, Jennifer Bane stopped by her best friend's home to give her a ride to Mona's Pies, a locally-owned pizza parlor situated in downtown Antioch. Like most Sundays after church, Jennifer and Alanna Parkhurst had decided to go out for lunch together.

Jennifer inched her maroon Accord along Harrison Road and stayed well below forty-five miles per hour. The speed limit was fifty, and Alanna wondered why her friend was dragging around. Driving the speed limit was out of character for Jennifer; her driving below it was unheard of. For the first time in her life, Alanna actually wished she would hurry it up.

Instead, Jennifer dropped it down to thirty.

"Why are you going so slow?" Alanna eventually blurted out.

Jennifer did not respond.

Alanna craned her neck and peered out the windshield, assuming there was something ahead of them she had missed. A stopped vehicle or an accident, perhaps. "What is it?" There was nothing but open road.

Without warning, Jennifer flicked on the left turn signal and whipped the car onto Connell Lane.

"Uh, Mona's is that way," Alanna said, pointing out her window. The strange behavior of her friend was beginning to disturb her.

"I know," Jennifer sighed.

"Well…" Alanna started. "What are we doing? Is something wrong?"

She drove the car along the apartment-lined street. "I don't know." Jennifer slowed the car to a stop outside Shadow Lodge College Apartments, unit B. She shifted into park, cut off the engine, and stared at the building. "This was Trevor Bradley's apartment."

Alanna was unsure of what to say, so she said nothing. She looked at her friend and was startled by the odd trace of sadness she saw in her steely blue eyes. She knew Trevor's death had upset her, just as it had everyone who had known him, but she also knew that Jennifer and Trevor were only acquaintances. Sure, the guy's death was terrible. But Jennifer barely knew him, and her present emotional state was strange. "What's wrong?"

Jennifer swallowed hard and kept her eyes on the apartment. "I'm not sure," she said quietly. "I've just got…a feeling."

Alanna drew in a deep breath. She knew about Jennifer's "feelings." To call them "premonitions" would be more accurate, but Jennifer argued that the word was too theatrical for what she experienced. Perhaps because the word "premonition" had all kinds of mystic connotations that Jennifer was not yet ready to deal with.

"What kind of feeling?" Alanna asked, worried about the answer.

"I just can't get Trevor out of my head. His death. I can't stop thinking about it. And the more I think about it…and the more everyone avoids talking about it…the more I know something isn't right. Something about it just feels…evil."

Alanna was quiet.

"My mom said she heard he died at home of 'natural causes.' What kind, no one seems to know." Jennifer paused. "Trevor was twenty-three years old and in perfect health, Alanna."

Silence.

"Gosh, I can't stand it anymore," Jennifer huffed. She unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

Alanna leaned forward and grabbed her arm. "Jen, what are you doing?"

"I don't know. But if I don't listen to this, this...voice inside me," Jennifer said, "it's gonna keep eating at me."

"But-"

"What if I was…drawn here, or whatever, for a reason?"

"Such as?"

"For good. For justice, even."

Alanna's eyebrows shot up. "Justice?"

"What if something else happened here?" Jennifer's jaw was trembling. "I've had this…feeling for days, maybe weeks, and it keeps getting stronger." She gazed into Alanna's hazel eyes. "You know my feelings are always right."

Yes. Alanna did know that. And it scared and amazed her at the same time.

Against her better judgment, Alanna removed her seatbelt, opened her car door, and followed her friend.

Neither of them noticed the '67 Chevy pulled to the curbside down the street.


Dean Winchester exited Trevor Bradley's spare-bedroom-turned-office and entered the master bedroom to find his younger brother leaning over the nightstand. "Find anything?" Dean asked him.

Sam glanced up. "Just another stopped clock and more demonic symbols like the one in the living room." He picked up a piece of paper with an elaborate pentagram stenciled onto it and held it up for Dean to see. "He's got them everywhere."

"Yeah. The dude had one hell of a library, too," Dean commented, playing with a strand of prayer beads on Trevor's dresser. "A buttload of books on everything from demonology to psychic phenomena to necromancy."

"Really?"

"Yep. Looks like Trevor was a little less innocent than everyone thought."

Sam cocked his head to the left. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Sam frowned. "I thought I heard voices."

"Nah." Dean flipped through a photo album lying open on the dresser. "You're always hearing voices."

"No, I'm serious. I know I did."

Dean shrugged. "Well, I don't think there's much more to see here." He led the way out of the bedroom. "I say we go grab a bite to eat. I'm starving. I'm pretty sure I saw a Mexican place a few miles-"

Trevor Bradley's back door squeaked on its hinges. Someone else was inside the apartment.

Dean fell silent as he reached for the Colt 1911 pistol he had tucked inside his jeans. He and Sam backed into the bedroom and peeked around the corner.

A female voice exclaimed, "There's so much blood. And look at the formation of it."

Dean looked at Sam.

Sam shrugged his broad shoulders.

The same voice continued, "What kind of 'natural cause' would do that to a person?"

The brothers glanced at each other again.

Dean tilted his head forward just enough to get a good look at the speaker. The girl from Trevor's church? He turned back to Sam and replaced his gun. After another set of confused glances, he and Sam left the bedroom and walked into the living room where the girl and her friend stood.

Before the Winchesters could politely announce their presence, Jennifer Bane and Alanna Parkhurst screamed.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down! We didn't mean to scare you," Dean bellowed. He moved closer to them. "What are you doing here?"

"What the heck are you doing here?" Jennifer retorted, trying to catch her breath. Her hand unconsciously went to her racing heart as she spoke. "If you have anything to do with Trevor's death-"

"I have a knife," Alanna threatened them.

"And I have Mace," Jennifer added.

Dean started to say that they had guns, but thankfully, he realized the stupidity of that comment before it was out. "Hey, take it easy there," Dean said, holding up a hand. "We didn't do anything."

"You said you were new in town," Jennifer began. "You acted all weird, then you slipped out during the altar call…and now you're here, wandering around a dead guy's house."

Sam and Dean stared at each other.

"Well," Dean sighed. He reached into his jacket pocket and extracted a gold badge. "That's because our investigation requires us to. I'm Detective Ulrich, and this is my partner, Sam Hetfield. We're from the County Sheriff's Department."

Sam nodded and held up his own identification for them to see. "We had to handle this case carefully due to the mysterious circumstances surrounding Mr. Bradley's death."

Jennifer's face flushed red with embarrassment. "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, detectives." She glanced at Alanna, then back at the two men. "We're only here because Trevor's sister, Amanda, asked us to stop by and pick up a few things for her."

"Trevor had a sister?" Dean inquired. "I thought you said he didn't have any family."

"Did I? Oh. Well, I meant that he had no family anywhere nearby. But yeah, he did have a sister," Jennifer lied without hesitation. "She's an English major at Georgetown. We're friends on Myspace."

"Could you give us a way to contact Amanda?" Sam asked her, removing a pen and a wadded up Texaco receipt from his pants pocket. "A phone number or an address, maybe?"

"Yeah, sure." Jennifer gulped. "Her number is, uh, it's 2, 1, 2, 6…6, 0, uh, 2, 2, 4, 5."

Sam jotted the number down on the back of the receipt with a smile. "And that's Amanda Bradley?"

Jennifer nodded.

"Thank you so much for all your help," Dean said. His lips twisted into a boyish grin.

Jennifer struggled to meet his gaze. "You're welcome." Her eyes drifted about the small living room. "Oh!" She suddenly stepped toward the fireplace and reached for a glass display case resting on the mantel. The small box enclosed an autographed baseball. "This is the last of it. The autographed baseball." She unzipped her oversized faux leather purse and slipped it inside. "We'll get out of your way now. Sorry again about the intrusion."

"No need to apologize, ladies," Dean said, sizing up the two young women as they walked away. "Just think twice next time before entering a crime scene."

Alanna looked at them over her shoulder. "Oh, we will."


Neither Jennifer nor Alanna said a word until they were inside the Honda.

The moment the car doors closed, Alanna exploded. "You just lied to cops."

"What was I supposed to tell them? 'Oh, I just broke into a guy's apartment because I had some weird feeling that told me to.'"

Alanna paused. "Well, no. But you had no business in there in the first place."

"You went with me."

"Yeah, and that was stupid. Premonition or not, we should have known better than to break into someone's home."

"Yeah." Jennifer heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." She cranked up the vehicle, slammed into drive, and gassed it. "But what are the chances that the one time we do something illegal, the one time we break into someone's house, detectives are inside?"

"I know." Alanna sighed as well. "But those improv classes of yours paid off. You did a great job thinking on your feet. Seriously, I was impressed."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Alanna could not help but grin. "Especially with Amanda at Georgetown."

Jennifer smiled back. "At least my love for Scarecrow and Mrs. King is good for something."

"But that fake phone number…" Alanna sighed again. "They'll know you lied when the number doesn't work."

Jennifer swallowed hard.

"This could get us in big trouble, Jennifer. Real trouble."

"They didn't even get our names."

"No, but they saw you at church this morning-"

"-where I introduced myself." Jennifer rolled her eyes, disgusted with herself. "They've got my first name. And they know where I go to school."

"So they know that much about you. And they probably got the number of your license plates."

"Crap."

Alanna nervously fingered her safety belt. "Surely they won't come after us."

"Surely not." The butterflies fluttering around inside Jennifer's midsection were beginning to feel more like ravenous carnivores shredding apart her stomach. Jennifer suddenly slapped the steering wheel. "Dang it."

"What?"

Referring to the autographed baseball in her purse, Jennifer said, "I'm gonna be charged with burglary, too."