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"A son of a stepfather
A son of a—
I'm so sorry."
I'm So Sorry, Imagine Dragons.

The research hadn't dug up much, and so, the brothers had opted for talking to the family of the victims. They had already spoken to two, and now they would be speaking to the last - Jorge Clooney's wife (And on a different note, from his pictures the fellow who had supposedly been a Mechanic actually resembled the actor 'George Clooney'). They came to a stop outside the house. It's walls were painted bright yellow, and near the porch potted plants were lined up. Sam hopped out of the parked car, straightening his suit's lapels.

Dean left the car as well, pocketing the keys and strolling around the front to join Sam. "Hopefully, this turns up something more useful." After a momentary pause, he headed for the door and called back, "Who knew there were so many hunters in New Mexico, anyway."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, but didn't add anything else. He jogged up the two front steps and then stopped, rapping his knuckles against the door. He looked over its frame and noticed the door bell just a little too late, not that it mattered much, because only another moment passed before someone answered, peering at the two men. Sam pulled out his badge, letting it fall open and at the same moment saying, "I'm Agent Brody," he paused - he hadn't chosen the name, and up until that moment he hadn't realized that there was an extra 'o' - maybe I should start making my own friggin' - "and this is my partner."

Jorge's wife, Clair, looked at the badge before giving them both a watery smile and motioning for them to step inside.

"Not quite, Ma'am. Not until we know what's going on," Dean said, following Sam into the house. He gave what he hoped was a sympathetic smile.

"Have-have a seat, agents. Do you want some coffee, or tea, or anything?" Clair wiped at her eyes and sniffed quietly, turning away to hide her reddened face. Sam followed her inside and spoke in a soft voice,

"Thank you Clair, but we're alright. Is there anything you can tell us about your husband's behavior recently?" Clair motioned for them to sit on the love seat while she took the rocking chair.

"No, nothing. I mean..." she paused and gave a frustrated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, "he just went hiking, you know? He was supposed to come back today."

Dean nodded, giving Sam a pointed look. "All right; we're sorry we have to ask, but was there anyone who would have wanted to hurt him? Maybe someone at work?" Dean wondered if the wife knew her husband had been a hunter.

"I... can't think of any. I mean, he was a rough guy, but people seemed to like that about him. He was superstitious, the police said that the other victims were, too; could that have something to do with it?"

Once again, Dean looked at Sam. "It might; what did he talk about?"

Sam returned the look.

"Everything? He said his mother was a Gypsy, or something, and taught him about the... spiritual realms. It never really mattered to me; everyone has their thing, you know? I just never thought he would die because of it." Clair choked on a breath, clenching and unclenching her fists.

"Your husband sounded like a good man," Sam said, his voice gentle, "We're very sorry. It's hard to lose someone like that." He met her eyes. Clair nodded and took a deep breath through her nose.

"Thank you. I just hope you find the son of a..." she stopped herself, "I hope you find who did this."

"We will." Dean nodded. "Is there anything you can tell us-anything specific-that he talked about before he left?"

"Um... No, not that I can think of. But he had been keeping track of the previous deaths, those other victims. He even had a box of news clippings and whatnot - I can go get it for you, if you'd like?" She was already beginning to stand up.

"That would be great," Sam began, "Did he, did he ever say anything about a pattern?"

She stared at him for a long moment, something flashing in her eyes. "Actually... he did. He said something about the deaths occurring in some kind of circle around... You know, I can't remember where it was. It's in the box, though. How did you know?"

"Oh, just a hunch we're working on."

"Thank you," Dean added, watching the woman walk away. He waited until she was out of earshot, then turned to Sam. "So they're all hunters. How far back does this go? Just recent, or have there been deaths spread out over years?"

Sam quickly turned towards his brother on the couch, leaning forward, "I couldn't find anything before this month. In the seventeen and eighteen hundreds there were secret witch trials, but they didn't use Pyres... And most of the convicted witches were jailed, not executed. It can't be a ghost."

Dean looked up at the roof and groaned. "Really? Man... I was hoping this would be an easy one." He thumbed a fist on his knee and sighed, looking at Sam again. "Okay, so back to square one then. Probably not a witch-ghost."

"It's gotta be a demon or something."

"Gotta be... Taking out anyone who knows how to kill a demon."

Before Sam said anything else, Clair shuffled back into the room with a rather large box and dropped it on the couch between the brothers. "Here you are, agents. I'm sorry, but I have arrangements to take care of..." she trailed off, hoping they would understand her request. "And you don't need to bring that back. It's useless to me."

Dean nodded, taking the box and standing up. "Thank you for your time... and we're sorry for your loss." With that, he headed toward the door.

Sam followed after, shutting the door behind them. Moments later he was slipping into the passenger side, pulling the Impala's door shut. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

Dean joined him, glancing back at the house. "Can't we ever get the easy jobs?"

Sam frowned and followed his sibling's gaze, "Could be a pagan god?" It wasn't the reply he thought it would be, but the question came out nonetheless.

Dean's lips pulled down at the edges and he nodded. "Like the one in the apple orchard?"

"Yeah. Well," Sam took a breath, "crime scenes?"

"Right... Let's go." Dean shook his head and started the Impala, pulling away from the house and onto the small street.

Thank you again!