.-.-.-. Primoris Filius.-.-.-.

Summary: Everything has a story - every scar, every tear, every weapon, every amulet... So when the boys come across a new hunt with a familiar M.O. a valuable piece of jewellery might be needed to protect an innocent life once again. Takes place in both the present and the past... Deancentric (when aren't my stories?)

Disclaimer: Already said it… :P

Warnings: Typical bad language that you expect from the Winchesters, particularly Dean… Decided to set this after Season 2 but before Season 3… guess I wanted that extra angst factor!!!

HI! I know I said I didn't know when I'd update but I got this chapter wrote and the third one well on the way… so here we have it!

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2. Halloway

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August 1997

John Winchester pulled into the diner parking lot and looked at the small building in front of him. He kept the engine running, undecided whether or not he truly wanted to hear what this Patrick Halloway had to say.

"I don't have to do this…" He muttered to himself, remembering the conversation he'd had with Dean back at the motel.

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"Where you going Dad?" His eldest had asked him, looking up from his position on the couch. He'd been so silent John had thought he'd fallen asleep, had thought he could creep out without either of his sons knowing, "We've only just got here… you should be resting shouldn't you?"

"Got other arrangements dude. Reason we're in this dump in the first – I'm meeting a hunter 'bout half a mile away."

"Why? Can't we just take a break? It's the summer hols… we could go somewhere."

"I know but there's this thing and it's killed quite a few people Dean, gotta put a stop to it." John had nearly laughed, talking to a half asleep Dean was like talking to the child he never got to be, so innocent.

"Then can I come?" Dean asked as he tried and failed to pull himself up, "Sam's fast asleep and there's plenty of protection. Salt lines, few symbols in the bedroom."

"Not this time. Get some rest; I might need your help later."

"You don't have to do this Dad. You don't even know the guy."

"How would you know? Listening in on my phone calls now?" John joked, ruffling his eldest's hair. It was always easier to act playful with Dean when he wasn't on guard or expecting orders.

"I can tell with you. You're worried."

Then again, the kid always seemed to be on guard and was always ready to obey. "I'll be fine. Promise."

Dean nodded and watched as his father pulled his jacket on and opened the door to leave. One quick glance back told John that Dean had already fallen asleep.

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"I don't have to do this." John repeated and turned the engine off, "But people are dying…"

Eyes ever watchful, he walked into the diner casually and glanced around, finding his gaze pausing on a young man in a corner booth. His eyes were dark and his hair was a dirty blond mop, long and messy, guy must have only been in his late-twenties. As John neared the man, he noticed the long scar running from half way down his cheek to midway down his neck.

"John Winchester?" The man asked, shadowed eyes looking up with a glint of mischief similar to the one that Dean's eyes held, "Patrick Halloway. It's an honour sir."

John nodded in acknowledgement and took a seat opposite the young man, "You wanted to show me some stuff?"

Halloway nodded enthusiastically and quickly glanced at the spot John had been standing in, disappointment running over his features but only for a fraction of a second, "Yeah… but it's gonna be hard with just the two of us."

"And it'll be even harder with just the one of you. I came liked you asked and if I reckon it's safe I'll bring my son in on it, until then you've got me."

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Present Day

Sam kept a watchful eye over Dean during their breakfast, noticing how little his brother ate. The brother that was a human garbage disposal… the brother that had breakfast, brunch, elevenses, lunch, dinner and tea whenever possible and was always grouchy if he missed a single meal. It had to be the murders. Something bad must have happened. Sam remembered how similar Dean had acted when they'd dealt with the Shtriga, blaming himself for its earlier escape.

"What happened Dean?" Sam asked, placing the last piece of bacon in his mouth.

Dean pushed himself back away from his plate, giving up on his breakfast completely before replying, "Nothing happened."

"You can't lie to me. Was it before I started hunting? Or was it when I went away to college?"

Dean shook his head and gazed out the window, "Dad got involved with a really nasty hunter - makes Gordon kinda seem like a pussycat. He was a son of a bitch and then some and he screwed Dad over big time."

"How? I mean, Dad could bring out the bad in anyone. What did he do?"

"This guy was sick and twisted before he even met Dad, if anything the guy brought out the worst in Dad. It was just a hunt he probably shouldn't have taken. Drop it, okay?"

Sam opened his mouth to push further but at the hopeless pleading look in his brother's eyes, he couldn't find the words. He found himself nodding instead and finishing his breakfast in silence as Dean stared out the widow.

Dean swallowed hard and looked at Sam when he heard the knife and fork go down, "So, this waitress who called in sick… you get a name?"

"Melissa, that's all I heard but that isn't really much help."

Dean smirked and looked over his brother's shoulder to the waitress who brought them their food, "Well Natalie seemed pretty keen to talk earlier, I bet she knows about Melissa."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean, "You planning on sweet talking her?"

"Sammy, some people hate journalists. I wouldn't trust 'em as far as I can throw them. But some… some people can't wait to share what they've heard. Natalie seems like the type that would let herself get sweet-talked."

"And hey, who cares if you manage to get her number out of it?"

"Exactly." Dean shrugged and looked over Sam's shoulder, smiling sweetly as the waitress walked passed them with a plate of food.

Sam shook his head. One minute his brother was sucked back into a painful or distressing memory and the next, he was quite happy to flirt with a cute girl who just happened to be near by. Typical. Forcing the weary smile from his face, he picked up his cup to take a sip, gagging on the cold liquid as it rolled over his tongue, "That's disgusting."

"Yeah, coffee gets that way if you leave it standing for ages." Natalie replied, now standing at their table, eyebrows raised teasingly, "You want a new cup?"

"Yeah please." He nodded, pushing his into the centre of the table.

"And what 'bout you hun?" Her attention now focused on Dean.

"I'm good."

"You sure you don't want anything? You barely touched your food."

"Actually Natalie… I was wondering if you had a break soon." Dean answered and Sam knew it was a good move using her name, meant that he listened and took notice of her.

She tugged on her lip and looked over at the man behind the counter, "Bill! I'm taking my break… I've been in since six so don't even think of arguing with me."

Bill pulled a face that clearly stated he wasn't going to argue but he wasn't entirely happy about it either, "Ten minutes. That's all Nats then I want you back on your feet."

"Right then," Natalie started, sliding in beside Dean, "Looks like the answer is yeah… got my break. You wanna know about the deaths don't you?"

"Couldn't hurt to tell us right? You're in the perfect spot to hear things. I mean I understand if you don't wanna, what with us being journalists…" Dean smiled, shuffling back a little so he could look at her better.

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August 1997

"So far we've got seven dead. All males all aged between ten and twenty one." Halloway began, sliding the file in front of him across the table towards John.

John opened it and scanned through the pages inside, autopsy reports, photographs, victim names, ages, occupations… the guy was thorough, that was sure, "So besides that, any clear links between each victim? Anything out of the ordinary?"

Halloway pulled a sheet of paper from the file and gazed down at it; swallowing hard before answering, "Not that I've noticed."

"And you've interviewed the families… friends… work colleagues?" John pushed, needing as much information as possible if he was going to consider working the case.

"Yeah, all except this guy's." Halloway indicated the sheet in front of him, "He was the last one. Thought you might wanna come with me and check it out for yourself, ask your own questions…"

"Don't get ahead of yourself kid." John growled, "You've got plenty of information on the victims but what about the thing that's killing them?"

And at this Halloway reached into a bag that sat on the seat next to him, pulling out what looked like a hunter's journal. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for. There were a few torn pages from some old books, they were crumpled at the edges and worn from age. He laid them out flat on the table and pointed to each one as he talked.

"I've talked to a few sources and 'borrowed' these pages for reference. I don't think it could be a spirit, or at least not a normal spirit. They at least tend to haunt something, like a building, object, you've hunted them, you know what I mean." He moved one sheet forward a little so John could see a picture of what looked like a bull with scales, " So I was thinking it could be some kind of beast, there's the Catoblepas which can cause it's victims to convulse and that could explain the whole drowning on their own blood but what it doesn't explain is the eyes and hearts. Besides, surely if there was one running around then someone might have noticed it."

"Go on."

"Well, then I decided that this thing can't be a beast. It's too particular, too 'neat' – always taking the heart and eyes. Right? Then that kind of points to this thing, whatever it is, having some 'human' intelligence to it and the fact that no ones reported anything strange must mean that it's either really good at hiding or it can take human form." His hand fell on the second sheet, "When you think about the victims being males, well, got me thinking of a succubus but one of the victims was ten years old… anyway, what would a succubus want with hearts and eyes?"

"Okay… so far you've told me what it isn't. You gonna tell me what it is?" John sighed, lifting his hand to his temple.

"I don't know what it is." Halloway looked away for a moment, falling silent.

"I thought you said you knew."

"I said I had a few ideas… basically when it comes down to it I think we're dealing with some sort of demon so we need to figure out which one it is so we can send the bastard back to hell." Halloway locked eyes with John, there was a defiance and determination in those eyes that John admired but there was something else too that he didn't like.

"I never said I was going to help."

"I really need a hand John. You and your boy… if this is a demon… one hunter ain't gonna be enough. Especially not one like me."

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