Nothing for days but long stretches of highway, the sun beating off the blacktop for miles on end as the harsh November air got slowly warmer. Small towns, dusty motels and backwater diners blurred together as quickly, and they never stuck around in a town more than a day. Paranormal activity was nothing new, lay to rest a ghost here, break some kind of curse there, but there was nothing that spoke of a seal, nothing that seemed out of the ordinary even by host-from-hell standards.

Ed did all the driving; he wouldn't let Al behind the wheel now that he had his car back. Driving calmed Ed down, even when he glanced into the rear view mirror and caught a reflection that didn't quite match his own. Al on the other hand kept up with the research; keeping in constant contact with Bobby, always looking for more information, more leads. There was nothing substantial to go on; it was like anything in their path was being cleared for them.

They ran across a hunter as they crossed the state line into Texas; a dark-haired Asian man who regarded the brothers with a cautious eye. They didn't exchange names or pleasantries - the name Elric was too well known in hunter circles at the moment - but helped the hunter clear out a werewolf enclave that was plaguing the town. They parted ways quickly and continued onward.

The next town they stopped in for gas, and while Al was leaning against the Impala and watching the meter Ed made a pit stop. A bag of chips in hand, he paused in front of the newspaper rack, and then picked up a local copy, tossing it with the bottles of water and chips to pay for.

"Check this out," Ed said, tossing a water bottle to Al and flattening the newspaper on the trunk of the Impala. Al opened his bottle and quirked an eyebrow as Ed jabbed at the paper. "Fifth victim dies of asphyxiation in a week." Al leaned over to look at where Ed was pointing. "All normal, otherwise healthy men suddenly suffocate in their sleep? I don't think so."

Al nodded. "Doesn't sound like anything I've heard of before. Let's head into town and see what we can find."

*

Another motel, carpet worn so thin it was almost transparent in the lobby. Ed groaned as he jammed the key-card into the lock. This one didn't even make do with proper keys, it had decided to join the 20th century and use these stupid key-cards. The lock blinked at him mockingly, a little red dot standing between him and the room.

"Problems?" Al sounded amused.

"I can handle it," Ed growled, jamming the card in the slot again. The light still blinked red. He started slamming the key in and out quickly and Al sighed, shuffling his armload of their gear and forcing it into Ed's arms so he could take the key before Ed broke it in the lock.

Al opened the door on the first try.

"I don't wanna hear it," Ed announced as Al smirked at him, holding the door open illustratively. "Fuckin' keys," he snarled, dropping his gear on the bed closest to the door and looking around.

For once the motel was rather - plain. For being in Texas, Ed had seen many, many kitschy cowboy-themed cheapass motels. This one at least looked passable, if plain. Small table with chairs, old but not ancient TV; all in all, this motel was a slightly higher class than they were used to staying at. Thank god they paid in cash this time; they didn't have to worry about being evicted if their current credit card got flagged. Al put down the key-card and his own duffel on the dresser. Ed sat down and then flopped backwards onto the musty-smelling bedspread, frowning at the ceiling.

"Getting right to work, I see," Al said, turning to see Ed sprawled out all over the bed.

"Fuck you," Ed said without lifting his head.

"Where do you want to hit first?" Al asked, flipping on the light and disappearing into the bathroom.

Ed shrugged and sat up. "The morgue's always a hot spot," he called. Remote in hand, he started flipping through the local cable channels. Nothing interesting or remotely good on, so he shut off the set and waited for Al to get out of the bathroom.

"FBI?" Al asked.

"Five deaths in one week, I would say so," Ed said. "Unless you can think of something better."

*

The town was small, but the coroner was a lot more thorough with inspecting the ID that Ed and Al usually flipped so casually. Ed didn't sweat near as much as Al did, he was confident in his work, and also confident that he could lay the man out cold if he did decide they were fake and tried to raise the alarm.

"You've had deaths like this in the past," Al said as the coroner gave up and lead them to the icebox. "A few years ago."

"Yes, it happened twice." The coroner shook his head. "The first victim was a friend - graduated with him, everyone thought his wife killed him until the second death." He shrugged. "The second victim lived alone and there was no sign of forced entry, so both cases were ruled accidental deaths and brushed under the rug."

He pulled open the drawer that held the latest victim, and Ed wrinkled his nose. This was always the least pleasant part, by a long shot. He'd gotten used to corpses in all states of decompose - you had to, in this line of work - but that didn't mean he liked dealing with dead bodies. "Cause of death was blunt abdominal trauma?" Ed asked. The body for once wasn't entirely maimed, but there was significant bruising on the upper torso, running down the sides of the body.

"On all our victims, yes." The coroner nodded, pointing out the bruising. "It's consistent with being crushed, although when found all the victims were in their own beds. Two died next to their wives."

Al leaned over the drawer and frowned, then moved and walked around it so he was behind Ed. "The pattern of bruising," he murmured, shifting his position again.

"It's very peculiar," the coroner agreed. "All the victims exhibited similar patterns."

"Any way we can get a look at the other victims?" Ed asked.

The coroner shook his head. "Sorry, they've all be claimed by family at this point - there's nothing that points to foul play that can be investigated so the bodies were released by the time this one was brought in." He tapped the pencil he was carrying against the drawer. "No, wait. The Daniel's kid - poor kid, just graduated high school this past spring - they haven't claimed his body yet, the family was out of town on a winter cruise and haven't got back yet."

"Can we see it? Every little bit of information helps," Al added at the coroner's dubious look.

"Sure thing, Agent Davis." He closed the drawer with the latest victim in it and led them further down the row, peering over handwritten labels and finally stopping at the drawer nearest the door.

As he put his hand on the drawer to pull it out, an intern opened the door to the room. "Doc! Your wife is on line two, pick up before she decides to come down here herself again!"

The coroner swore quietly to himself. "Uh, if you'll excuse me, Agent Davis, Agent Martin." Ed and Al watched him hurry over to the door, and then looked at each other. Without a word Ed pulled the drawer open.

The bruising was the same on this cadaver as well; purple and dark against pale flesh. "It looks ... it almost looks like someone was seated astride his chest," Al said quietly, pointing out the contusions. "But for the amount of pressure to kill - the rubs would need to be crushed, but while they're bruised none of them are broken."

"Well, they suffocated, didn't they?" Ed said. "Enough pressure should keep them from inflating their lungs, and it only takes a few minutes before they'd pass out." He frowned. "But to cause this bruising..."

"I think it's time we did a little bit of research on our victims," Al said. "See what we can dig up. You get a list of the next of kin; I'll call Bobby and see what he can find on, well..."

"Chest crushers?" Ed supplied helpfully.

Al shot him a withering look and Ed shrugged, heading for the door.

Once Ed had left the room behind, Al closed the drawer that held the Daniels' kid and looked around room. He opened the drawer that held the latest victim's body, pulling it just far enough out to look at the upper torso closely. The bruises were consistent with someone - or something - seated on the victim's chest, so why had no one made mention of it? Al closed the drawer thoughtfully and left the icebox.

He tossed a wave off to the coroner, who didn't look like he even noticed, huddled over a phone at the end of the hallway and arguing passionately into it. When Al exited the back room, he was presented with Ed flirting with the receptionist. She was giggling and glanced up at Al with a blush tinting her cheeks. "Duty calls," Ed said dramatically, winking at her.

Al rolled his eyes once they were outside the building. "Do you ever stop?"

"Got the list," Ed said, holding a piece of paper up between his fingers. "You get another look at them?"

"Yeah," Al shook his head. He pulled his cell out of the inside jacket pocket and this time Ed snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Thought you were gonna call Bobby before."

"No cell reception," Al said as Ed leaned against the side of his car and folded his arms across the roof. Al huffed at him, about to point out how dirty the Impala was and that they'd just gotten their nice suits cleaned when Bobby's voice mail picked up the line. Al left him a succinct voice mail about the information they had, and looked at Ed across the roof of the car. "You want to hit the library or talk to the families?"

"Fuck that," Ed waved his hand. "You are NOT dumping me on grief counselor duty by myself. We're both going."

"We'll get more done if we split up," Al argued. At Ed's stubborn expression he sighed. "Okay, look. You get your suit clean, I'll go check things out at the library and then we'll BOTH go check out the families."

Ed cocked his head in confusion. "Clean my suit, we just got them clean-" He leaned back from the car, and then looked down and it registered. "GodDAMN it," he seethed, trying in vain to wipe off some of the muck he'd just rubbed in to his clean dress shirt. Then the realization set in and he took a step back from the car, a look of horror on his face.

Al rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Clean the suit first, then the car," he said. "Let's head back to the motel, you can drop me off at the library after we get changed."

Ed was easier to wrangle out of washing the car than Al had thought, but it was because he was thinking. This was always a dangerous thing. Al watched him think the entire car ride back. It wasn't stewing, or even brooding - Al knew the traces either left on his older brother's face and this was neither. That worried Al more than the previous two options combined.

They got back with no difficulties, and Ed even let Al open the room's door without a fuss. Al watched Ed walk into the room, and as he closed the door he was about to ask what, precisely Ed was up to when to his surprise Ed gently clapped his hands together and crossed them over the front of his suit jacket.

It looked almost like a scattering of blue electricity as the muck separated from the suit and dropped to the floor around his feet. Al was stuck with his mouth open, question lost on his lips.

"Huh," Ed said mildly. "It did work. Wasn't expecting it to." He stepped out of the circle of dirt and kicked his shoes off as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

Al blinked, shut his mouth and said - rather calmly, he thought, all things considered - "Ed, what the hell?!"

Ed shrugged. "I... had this thought that it would be something easy to do, yanno? Felt like something I'd done before so I wanted to see if I could - what?"

"For one," Al said. "You did it again, even after Castiel said not to." He pointed at Ed angrily. "After I got, stood here and lectured about doing something similar like I was five fucking years old and you go around and ignore their direct orders!"

While loosening his tie, Ed paused. "I don't follow their orders," he said heatedly. "YOU were the one who said it wasn't magic in the first place, so they can damn well take it and shove it up their asses for all the hell I care. This isn't something that comes from demons."

"And suddenly you're the expert on it?" Al crossed half the room in an easy stride, looming slightly over his brother.

"What if I was?" The fire was lit in Ed's eyes. "I know more about it than you, and you don't like that, do you?"

"This isn't-" Al gritted his teeth. "The angel told you not to."

"And I care about that why?" Ed threw his arms out. "If they want to smite me they can go ahead and do it. What's the worse they can do to me, throw me back in hell?"

"Ed. " Al's voice was pained. "You also - you did it without a symbol, Ed, that can't be good-"

Ed blinked, halfway through a retort in his head when he realized what Al had said. He lowered his arms and looked at his hands. "Huh," he said. "I guess I did, didn't I?"

Al stared at Ed and Ed stared at his hands. Al's cell phone went off and he exhaled as Ed met his eyes. After a second Al fished his cell out and after a glance at the Id he turned from Ed, flipping it open. "Hey, Bobby."

He walked to the other side of the room, out the door. Ed knew he'd become the topic of discussion once the door clicked shut and closed his eyes, tugging the tie completely out of its knot.

Mechanically Ed stripped the suit off, hanging it in the closet. He hadn't even thought about it, this strange power ... alchemy ... was coming to him so easily and it seemed so right, so natural to use. But what was the cost? Was he the one going darkside, and not Al? "This shouldn't be so complicated," Ed said out loud.

There was no response.

*

Al sat in the library, information about all seven victims - the five from the past week and two from a few years ago - scattered about him. All the victims were men, over the age of eighteen but under the age of forty. They were all local, born in this small town; not a single one of them had ever lived anywhere else. That meant that there wasn't just one connection, there were half a dozen if not more. Al sighed, leaning back in his chair. Usually it was hard to find the constant thread between victims, but here? Two or three were buddies, one was a nephew of another victim ... there were just so many angles to be investigated in this town.

Ed and Al had parted on sour terms in the motel room, Ed to go talk to a few of the families and Al to the library to see what leads he could piece together. Ed hadn't spoken a word to him outside of questioning what Bobby had to say - which added up to a big fat zilch, but Bobby was if anything the master of digging up obscure information. He'd get back to them, Al was sure.

On the subject of Ed's sudden acquisition of power, Bobby didn't have much to say either, except to keep an eye on Ed. Al planned to do that anyway, but it made him more nervous that Bobby didn't have anything to go on. There was a brief biting moment of realizing that this was what Ed must feel like every time Al used his "power" and Al groaned.

He sat back, rubbing his face. He'd been staring at newspapers for hours - flipping through the actual hard copies, bound into large, musty books. His fingers and lower arms were stained with newsprint; he'd smell it in his sleep. The next task would be to hit up the microfiche machine to see if there were any other deaths further back, or if the one a few years back were the oldest they had on file.

Al glanced to the side and was surprised to see Ed navigating his way toward Al while chatting up one of the library aides who looked quite a bit like jail bait. "-horrible, absolutely horrible," Ed was saying by the time they got within earshot.

"He was always so nice, too," she was saying as she led Ed past the table Al was working at. "He would watch the Moore's house while they were away - they're my uncle's next-door-neighbors, that's why I knew him. He was a year or so behind me in school-"

Al's ears pricked up. Ed's appearance at the library wasn't just coincidence; it seemed the library aide actually knew one of the victims. Well, it being such a small close-knit community that wasn't much of a surprise. But, Al glanced down at his newspapers and the interrelating charts of people he'd been sketching out. Moore, that name rung a bell. He flipped to the information about the first victim, his name had been Hinks, but his wife hadn't taken his name at marriage. Her last name, though....

*

Ed was surfing the cable set when Al returned. He was back to his usual casual outfit and was lying on the bed with the remains of his lunch. Al paused in the doorway and rolled his eyes heavenward in a silent plea. "What'd you find out?" Ed asked without looking up.

Al turned the TV off as he passed; fortunately Ed didn't feel like being a dick at the moment and didn't use the remote to turn it on again. "Moore," Al said.

"Okay, good," Ed said sarcastically. "What else?"

"No, Moore, like the wife of the first victim, Eric Hinks," Al said, dropping his laptop and notebook on the table and folding into one of the uncomfortable chairs.

Ed snapped, pointing at Al. "That name's come up a few times," he said. "Angela was telling me about the Daniel's kid, he used to housesit for a Moore."

"Angela? " Al repeated mildly.

"So we check out this Moore chick," Ed said, spreading his hands. "But the question is, what do we check her out for? Demonic possession? Fuck, maybe she's like that Bond chick who just kills people for kicks with her thighs?" Al stared at Ed, who shrugged. "Look, the victims suffocated. Yes, with substantial bruising but there doesn't seem to be anything otherworldly besides that, so maybe she's just a serial killer with a slight Mrs. Robinson bent."

Al hesitated. Ed was speaking the truth - they didn't have real evidence of supernatural foul play, just a whole string of coincidences. Still, they'd operated on less before. "We should go talk to her."

"Yeah, I know." Ed nodded at the clock. "Still before five, if Moore's a regular working gal we might get an hour or two to scope out her house first."

"Sounds good," Al said, picking up the keys to the Impala that Ed had left on the desk. "Let's check it out."

*

Ed scratched his cheek and stifled a yawn. Surveillance was a time-honored tool of their profession, but that made it all the more boring. Al was the less imposing of the two for randomly wandering the streets, something Ed had never really understood. There was something puppy-dog about him that people took to and didn't mind answering innocent questions about the neighborhood; whereas with Ed they tended to regard him as some kind of serial killer about to eat their babies, or something.

He kinda resented that implication, but there really wasn't much he could do about impressions; and that's why he was in the car playing the part of the creepy stalker, sunglasses, two-day shadow and all; and Al was out on the streets fact-gathering.

Ed was tempted to flop over on the bench seat and get a few minutes of shut-eye but Al wouldn't let him hear the end of it if he dozed off while he was supposed to be watching, so he leaned back in his seat and kept watch on the sidewalk.

The Moore house looked absolutely, completely, and one hundred percent like it belonged in the neighborhood. Nothing strange about it at all, not even dark curtains hanging in the windows to obscure potential hoodoo ceremonies. All in all it looked so Stepford that its normal-ness itself was disconcerting.

Al smacked the roof of the car and Ed jumped a bit, having started to drift off anyway. He glowered while Al snickered at his reaction. "What'd you find out?" Ed bit out, taking off his sunglasses to rub one eye.

"Not very much. Moore's lived on this street since her husband died, didn't move out of the house but is really friendly, a nice person who moves in a lot of social circles. She did, however, inherit a tidy sum from Hink's life insurance when he died."

"This keeps sounding less and less like something we deal with," Ed complained.

"If," Al said. "If Moore is the killer we have no idea how she got into the other victim's homes. No signs of forced entry, remember? Plus the fact that two of the victims died next to their wives, who would surely have noticed a second woman in bed with them."

"Kinky," Ed muttered.

Al wasn't listening to Ed; he was staring off in the distance, a puzzled expression on his face. "Suffocation," he muttered, more to himself than Ed, then snapped his fingers and gestured at Ed. "Dad's journal," he said excitedly. Ed looked at him oddly and fished the leather-bound volume out of the glove box, handing it off to Al while his younger brother flipped through it excitedly. "The victims have all be ridden, Ed!"

"Poor bastards."

Al looked up at the sarcasm for a moment, then rolled his eyes and continued flipping through the book. "There was, ooh, was it a German fairy tale? Something I read in school and it sounded similar to something I remembered from one of Dad's hunts," he said. He glanced up at Ed as if Ed was supposed to spontaneously generate the information, and Ed shrugged at him.

"That helps me me narrow it down so much."

"No," Al said slowly. "I think, I think this was the week that Dad left you with Father Maxwell because you'd broken your leg taking a fall wrong."

"Oh," Ed wrinkled his nose. "Oh, shit I remember that. He was so pissed, and I was pissed about him leaving me at that fucking church for longer than over night. You know they made me go to Mass? " Ed shuddered.

Al glanced at Ed and Ed got the distinct feeling he was being quietly laughed at.

"ANYWAY," Al said, directing the flow of the conversation back to the topic at hand. "It was a female shape shifter - not one of the skin-walkers who shed, but one that shifts into things ... other than human." He found the page after a moment and pointed at it, then turned the journal over and passed it back through the window for Ed's consideration. "A mahr."

"A mahr?" Ed scanned over the information. "Like - wait, like a nightmare? You gotta be fuckin' ..." he said, shaking his head. "Thought they weren't killers, thou'?"

"Same here," Al said. "The one dad dealt with was just being an overall pest; I don't remember any casualties with that case." He frowned, leaning against the Impala as Ed flipped a few pages past and forward the entry on the mahr, looking for more.

"It's too easy," Ed said.

"I think it sounds like a mahr," Al said. "They ride their victims, and can enter a room through anything as tiny as a keyhole."

"So what do you think?" He ran a finger over the creature's weaknesses, all transcribed in their father's tight, neat script. "Fir, birch... doesn't give a particular metal that it's weak to, but I'd stick with iron and maybe silver as backup."

"Let's pay a visit to Ms. Moore tomorrow," Al said, nodding at the house down the street. A cab had pulled up, and an attractive, slightly older woman had hopped out, followed by another man. "Seems like she's entertaining tonight"

Ed woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. He twisted in his sheets - his dreams had been blood and chalk and eyes and hands again but aside from a few shaky moments upon waking he was good at suppressing them. Several deep, gulping breaths and he was fine.

Castiel was sitting on the foot of his bed, turning the knife that Ed usually kept under his pillow in his hands gently. Reflexively, Ed groped under his pillow for the knife but of course it was absent. "How'd you get that?" Ed's voice was scratchy with sleep.

"You were dreaming," Castiel said, placing the knife on the bed and leaning forward to look at Ed, hands folded.

Ed made a noise that could be taken as a confirmation. He dragged his arm across his forehead, wiping at the sweat gathered there. "You didn't come here to wake me up from a bad dream, did you?" There was an element of disbelief to his voice as he stared at the angel.

"Do you remember your dreams?"

Ed swung his legs out of bed so he was seated on the same side as Castiel and rubbed his face with both hands. "I try not to," he admitted quietly. The headache was back, quieter. Voices, voices he didn't recognize played in his subconscious until they faded out completely.

He glanced at Castiel, whose face was impassive as ever. "I...I don't think I'm dreaming of hell," he said. "It's too human."

Castiel shook his head. "I do not know what is going on," he murmured. "This strange power you've acquired, this fracturing of what needs to be and what is; it was not in the plan."

"I thought you couldn't see the future," Ed said snarkily.

"I cannot," Castiel said.

Ed made a disgusted noise. "So, what, you came here to tell me off for using 'that power', that it?"

"No." Castiel looked at his hands again, and then back at Ed, and he almost seemed hesitant, almost human for a moment. "This power... it is not a cursed or demonic thing. I don't want you to use it because I don't know what the cost is, but it is not the same as your brother's situation."

The silence hung for a moment as Ed processed this. He laughed, quietly, and then looked over to the other bed to make sure he hadn't woken Al. To Ed's surprise and dismay, Al's bed was empty and hadn't been slept in.

"That is why I am here," Castiel said quietly.
Ed stood up in shock, glancing at the dresser. The keys to the Impala were still there, but Al's wallet was gone. "Wha-where has he gone?" Ed turned to Castiel, his stomach dropping out and all thoughts of alchemy dismissed from his mind with it. "He's with that bitch again, isn't he?"

Castiel's elbows were propped on his knees, his folded hands hanging between his legs. "He has been warned," he said. "Uriel is itching to have words with him again, but Uriel also likes the sound of his voice in the mortal sphere."

Why - why. Ed's stomach was twisting and churning. Why would Al go back to that bitch after everything that had happened so far? "I'm going to wring his neck," Ed announced, turning half in his place looking for his jeans. "I'm going to hit him in the head, drag him back here and wring his fucking neck."

Ed located his jeans and hopped into them, now looking for a shirt. Castiel watched him calmly. "The path he is walking down there is coming back from," he warned. "If he gets too far into the darkness nothing you can do will pull him back."

"Oh, fuck that," Ed hissed. "I'll march down into Hell myself and pull him back, just watch me. If I can face down the Gate for him, Hell will be a cakewalk."

He hesitated, one arm in the sleeve of his shirt, the other hanging loose. Castiel was staring at him, and not in his normal, piercing way. "Dean, what is the Gate?"

Ed blinked at him. The words had seemed natural falling from his lips but for the life of him he had no idea what "the Gate" actually was. "I...I have no fucking clue."

"Something you had to fight for your brother and you cannot remember it?"

"Shut up, just-shut up." Ed squeezed his eyes closed, trying to focus on the words. The screaming, the smell of charred flesh hanging in the air, blood, the swift numbness of intense pain all rushed him like a tidal wave. The door, it was huge, he couldn't stand before it, pushed to his knees the eyes the hands the mocking laughter-

Ed's eyes snapped open, he was breathing hard and dizzy, his knees weak and to his surprise Castiel was supporting him, keeping him upright, arms strong around him. "What," Ed breathed. "What the hell was that?"

"I do not know," Castiel did not sound happy with his own admission.

Bile was rising in Ed's throat, but somehow the comfort of Castiel's arms was keeping the wave of nausea at bay. After a long moment he shrugged out of Castiel's grip and the angel let him go, watching him cross the room unsteadily and then back again with precise blue eyes.

Ed glanced to Castiel, and then grabbed the keys to the Impala. "Where is he?" he breathed instead, deciding that Al was a better focus at the moment.

"Your brother is at a diner on the other side of town," Castiel said.

Ed rooted through his duffel but the demon-killing knife was not present. He snorted, Al had probably taken it, and instead slid a regular knife into his boot. He glanced up at Castiel. "You comin'?"

"I am always with you," out of the corner of his eye it looked like Castiel wore a soft smile, but when Ed looked at him his face was composed in its usual mask.

Ed groaned. "Spare me the sanctimonious bullshit, please; we both know what I meant."

The angel shook his head. "This is something between brothers, something best that I do not interfere in."

"Right," Ed murmured, and when he glanced back to where Castiel had been standing he wasn't surprised to see that the angel had departed when his back was turned.

*

Al was alone in the diner when Ed got there. It was the third diner he'd checked and, true to Castiel's word, on the furthest edge of town. He had no food in front of him, just a half-empty cup of coffee gone cold. Al doesn't even really seem to see Ed when Ed stopped beside his booth, so Ed sighed and slid into the seat opposite. It only twigs Ed a little that the bitch - that demon was probably sitting here only minutes beforehand.

The waitress stopped by and Ed ordered another coffee; Al finally looked up to see Ed. He doesn't look upset that Ed came to find him, just tired and Ed can commiserate. He feels tired down to his bones.

"How's Ruby?"

"Ed," Al said, the weariness layered in his voice. "I didn't ... she came to me, we just talked."

"Just talked," Ed said quietly. He somehow kept the snort out of his voice.

"Just talked," Al repeated.

"Well, now maybe you should talk," Ed nodded at the waitress who dropped his coffee off and topped Al's off with no prompting.

Al rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. "Ed... does it-" he hesitated, looked at the coffee, then caught Ed's eye. "It feels like I'm coming apart sometimes," he said quietly. "Sometimes out of the corner of my eye I see things that aren't there."

Ed didn't say anything, willed Al to continue with his silence.

"It's mostly reflections, I guess, I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on, maybe it's something to do with the seal..." Al swallowed and Ed takes a moment to take a sip of his coffee - hot and black and scalding, just the way he hates it but it gives something for him to focus on.

Maybe Al is right, maybe it all has to do with the seal. For some reason, Ed doesn't want to say "no, this has been going on for weeks now, welcome to my world," and simply nodded mutely. Maybe it does, maybe it has to do with proximity and Ed quietly clung to the hope that maybe if they stop the seal from being opened, everything will go back to normal again.

Too many 'maybe's.

They sat in the diner for an hour, barely talking but nursing their coffee. Al came back to the motel with Ed, leaving the car he must have hotwired in the parking lot of the diner. Ed put Al to bed and then sat on the edge of his own bed until sunrise starts poking its head through the blinds.

What was going on?