A small motel sat along a dirt road. Half of the neon sign was burnt out so that it read "Ho Inn" instead of "Homey Inn." The once white siding was now a peeling grayish black along the row of motel doors that curved in a U-shape around the main office. One of the rooms, number 6, had a black 1967 Impala in front of it.

The interior of the Homey Inn motel rooms were no better then the exterior. Inside room number 6 sat two young men. Beads of sweat rolled down their faces as one lazily typed at a computer while the other moved around on one of the beds, searching for a comfortable spot to lie in.

The walls of the room were a dull yellow-brown color, from age and use of tobacco products in the room or by design wasn't certain. The carpet was threadbare and also an ugly shaggy brown. Looking up at the ceiling didn't help matters either, for large water stains spotted it, making the room even more drab.

Bam! A brown work boot slammed against the sputtering air conditioner that gave one last wheeze before it screeched and died.

"Damn it," yelled Dean, "I swear this motel has it in for us. It's gotta be like a hundred and ten degrees outside and the air conditioner is freakin' broken!"

He hobbled over to the dead air conditioner and picked up his boot from the floor, jamming his foot into it.

"Did that really help?" asked Sam as he typed away at his laptop computer on the desk next to the two beds.

"Well, it made me feel slightly less pissed off, until it stopped WORKING!"

Dean pounded his fist one last time on the beaten machine and lay back down on the motel bed.

"Calm down Dean, stop being such a whiner, it IS Phoenix after all."

"Dude, could you be more of a woman? I'm just sayin', it's a flea bag motel and I feel like a burger over the open flame. Let's get outta here. Maybe hit Vegas or something."

"We're not gonna hit Vegas, Dean. Although there are a few other places that we might what to check into. What do you say to Anderson, Indiana?"

"What do they got there? More poltergeists? Cause I've about had my fill of those here, I swear to God Sammy."

"No, just a missing couple who were in serious debt, looks like maybe they got into some shady demon-dealing and…"

"Pass. They'll get what's coming to them. What else you got?"

"Here's something, up by Fall River, Massachusetts. Police and even the coroner are confused by a rash of odd deaths in the area."

"No surprise there, since they're probably trying to do our job. They are like Gomer Pyle when to comes to these things. I feel kinda bad for the shmucks. So, what's the deal in Hicksville."

"Well, in 'Hicksville' what's happening is odd, even for us. There have been three deaths so far, all similar."

Sam turned the laptop toward Dean, who walked up and sat down on the end of the bed next to the desk. On the computer pictures of two women and a man occupied the top half of the screen, while the news report for Fall River was visible on the bottom, with the headline blaring Death Toll Rises as Serial Killer Strikes Again!

"They're already labeling this a serial killer situation? Jumping the gun a bit, now aren't they," said Dean.

"The deaths all occurred in the victims' homes, all at night. And all were said to appear in distress and had some substance in their eyes, although the police are keeping exactly what that 'substance' is to themselves they have ran a chemical analysis on it."

"Thank you Gil Grissom."

Sam shot Dean a dirty look, which Dean ignored, "The only way to find out if it is a spirit or demon is to check it out. Start packing Sammy, we're hitting the road and gettin' outta this hell-hole."

Dean tossed one of the dirty t-shirts from the floor at Sam's head and then headed to his bed to gather up his clothes.

"That's your shirt, Dean, you slob!" yelled Sam.

Dean just shrugged, "Sorry Sammy, you're the woman, so you're the maid here."

Sam tossed the shirt back at Dean and it hit him in the chest. He grabbed it off of the floor and shoved it into a black bag, along with all of his other personal items. "C'mon Sam, we're burnin' daylight that we could use to get these evil sonsofbitches," said Dean.

Within minutes the two brothers are packed and on the road. Dean sang with the music in the Impala: "Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight." He turned and looked at Sam, "Dude, are you brain dead? It's Metallica, you gotta sing along to Metallica!"

"Sure Dean, the best of mullet rock on cassette."

"Don't knock it 'til ya try it!"Dean began pounding on the steering wheel to the music; head banging to the beat.

Sam just smiled and buried his nose in their father's journal. He flipped the pages back and forth between two entries. One about Rakshasa, a Hindu demon that could not only change shape but used illusions to confuse and kill humans; the other a Basilisk, an evil serpent that could spit venom or kill with a stare.

"Dean, this is interesting. I'm looking at a Rakshasa and a Basilisk. I think it could be either one of those things killing people in Fall River. It's just; it'd work better if I combined the two. There's something going on with the victim's eyes and they appear to be fighting for their lives but there is no major trauma to the bodies reported"

"So, it's a case of what if they mated?"

"I doubt that, but still, I cant' find anything in the journal that attacks people's eyes and causes them to go crazy or hallucinate at the same time. It's strange, usually dad wrote about anything and everything."

"Well, Hell's gates were open for a long time and a lot of nasty shit escaped. Maybe this is something dad never saw before."

"It's just, there's something there, and I just can't put my finger on it. Like, I've heard something like this before but I don't know where."

"Ya got me. I've been through dad's journal a few times and it doesn't ring any bells. Maybe you should try your laptop, you know, the thing with the buttons you can't live without and if you ever lost it you'd run screaming through town like a man on fire."

Sam reached for his laptop, saying, "Says the man who calls his car his baby and practically puts it to bed every night."

"Hey, don't mess with the Impala dude, she's sensitive."

Dean gunned the Impala's engine and took the Fall River exit. They were only a few minutes outside of the town. Sam shot Dean a worried look; he had a bad feeling about this case because stuff just wasn't adding up. Dean gave Sam one of his winning grins and Sam started to relax. The roar of the engine continued as the traveled over the dark blacktop road to their hunting destination.