The night was quiet except from the gentle washing of the sea in the distance, it's tangy taste heavy on the air. A clear sky revealed endless stars, the kind of night where lovers would spend hours staring to the heavens on the beach. Yet there wasn't a soul on the beach at this hour; not by this house at least. It stood isolated from any other structure, but it was not unoccupied. Light burst out from gaps in the curtains, casting long shadows about the small front yard as first it hit the raised porch, and then onto the neat shrubs and finally a small white fence that marked the boundaries. Anyone who came upon the place would have given it a wide birth, though none would be able to explain why. Whatever the reason, it would have meant they would have missed the two bulky figures who blended into the shadows, as easily as embracing an old friend.
Sam couldn't tell whether it was the gentle breeze or the rush of adrenaline that was screwing up his hearing but either way they felt muffled somehow, and it put him on edge. The ocean air was bringing back unwanted memories, he recalled what he'd learnt in college about odours being a tool in eye-witness accounts because they attached themselves so readily to emotional moments. As the scent of salt washed over him with a fresh gust of wind, it wasn't him and Dean blasting away spirits with the stuff that sprang to his mind; it was Jess. Before he could stop himself Sam was immersed in a memory so beautiful it was excruciating. It was their first vacation together and they were lying on the beach gazing at a sky painfully similar to the one Sam was trying with all his might to ignore. Jess was curled up under his arm and he laughed freely as her wild hair tickled his nose. They never said anything that night; the moment felt too perfect to be sullied with trivial words. But he would never forget the way that the moonlight got caught in her golden hair, or the way she captured the light of every star in her eyes as she looked up at the sky in wonder, never noticing how Sam spent more of the night captivated by her beauty than stargazing. He wanted to reach out to her, to make her understand how he felt in that moment, to show her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. More than anything he wished he could just say sorry. A single tear fell from his eye, as Sam was ripped from his sorrow by a low hiss that pierced his previously muffled hearing and he became a pure hunter once again.
Dean hissed at him again from the other side of the stairs leading up to the porch. Sam double, no, triple checked his inventory. It was a big haul for tonight, they'd had to empty nearly the whole trunk and the pockets in his jacket and jeans were fit to bust with various hunting paraphernalia. This time he checked only the most vital of his arsenal; two fully loaded guns. One was a shotgun, which felt like little more than a toy in his massive hands, but was loaded with rock salt. The other was a colt, filled with silver bullets. The shotgun was what he carried now as he nodded to Dean that he was ready, it wasn't a full moon and so it was unlikely that they would be having problems with the werewolf tonight. Although that didn't mean they weren't going to have to take care of that one too.
Sam crept forwards as Dean did the same, instinctually aware of his brother movements. Dean raised his hand suddenly and they both froze. The curtain flickered; someone was checking for movement outside. Once the yard had returned to its previous state of darkness the boys continued to move in, automatically placing their feet in the correct way to minimise noise. They reached the door and stood either side of it with their backs to the wall, guns raised. They took a split second to breathe and listen for any signs of trouble before they nodded to each other simultaneously and span round to face the door. The door came crashing open as Dean landed a kick and they ran into the room guns steady and looks of steel on their faces. Four faces spun round to stare at them before there was a clatter of china falling to the floor and one girl completely vanished. The other woman rolled her eyes as she sat at the dining table and a man with short mousy hair and glasses sat with her, completely frozen, holding a steaming mug halfway to his lips. Finally a man with long black hair, dressed in a shirt over a t-shirt and fingerless gloves let the last remnants of a smile be wiped from his face as he unfolded his arms and spoke in a thick Irish accent.
'And who the fuck are you?'