"So, Dean, get this," Sam said, while studying the paper. "Three dead in freak homicide...large wounds on each victim's neck over the jugular... all persons missing a heart," he read aloud. Dean paused and looked up from cleaning his guns.

"So… what you're saying is that we got a vampire and a werewolf working together?" Dean questioned, eyebrows furrowed, "Why the hell would they do that? Aren't they suppose to hate each other or something?" he frowned as his attention returning to his cleaning.

Sam sighed. "Dean, you need to stop watching Twilight. Werewolves and vampires work together all the time," he said matter of factly. Dean rolled his eyes, sometimes Sam could just be an incredibly sarcastic know it all.

"Whatever, Sammy. So, where's this at, anywhere close?" he questioned, laying aside his gun. Sam turned his head back to the paper and skimmed down the article while Dean took a swig of the beer he had snagged from the hotel mini fridge.

"Er...no. It's in Austin, Texas. That's a bit far from here," Sam replied, glancing at Dean. Dean's eyes just about bugged out of his head as he choked on his drink.

"Sam, we're in Iowa. Do you know how far that is from here?" Dean exclaimed, almost shouting. "Dude, where did you even get that paper? We're nowhere close to Texas!" Sam shrugged and gestured towards a trash bin in the corner of the room. "Oh, come on dude, that's just gross," Dean's face was scrunched up in disgust.

"Either way, Dean, it's a real case that has for sure supernatural involvement. We can't pass that up," Sam pointed out with a smirk. Sometimes watching Dean squirm about having to ride his baby so hard was the funniest thing on the face of the planet. Dean hung his head in defeat. He, unfortunately, knew that Sam was right…again.

(Transition/pagebreakthing?)

To be honest, Dean had been ready to be back at the wheel again. He enjoyed the feel of the sun on his face and the wind blowing wildly through his hair. He had a feeling that Sam wasn't always too happy about the wind messing up his hair, but that was half the fun. At the moment, all he needed to know was that the Impala was running smoothly, they had a wallet full of money from hustling pool last night, and that Sammy was okay.

"So, Dean, I picked up another newspaper from the gas station we went to a few miles back. It looks like there have been more killings in the same area. Officials are becoming 'worried'," Sam commented suddenly, after a record number of hours of silence in the car. He paused, and Dean cleared his throat loudly to get more information out of Sam. "All the killings were exactly the same," he finally finished. Dean nodded his head wordlessly and pushed on the pedal a little harder. The more deaths that happened while they weren't there, the more guilt and questioning himself there would be later. Dean never liked to admit it, but even after all these years, every death haunted him silently at night. It was almost like a knife that stabbed him in the heart for every death that he allowed to happen. Obviously, some hit him harder than others, but it was the same guilt, nonetheless.

(Time break)

The air had grown colder as they approached the tip of Oklahoma. The day had begun to end and the sun slowly set on the horizon line, sending golden streaks across the sky. Sam had fallen asleep in the passengers side and Dean was about ready to fall asleep at the wheel, so they pulled up to the closest hotel he could find: "Chalk White Hotel." The Impala's engine was turned off, and with a sputtering sound it cut out, leaving only silence in its place.

"Sammy," Dean said, nudging Sam's shoulder, "We're at a hotel for the night. I can't drive anymore." Sam's seemingly lifeless body began to move and stretch (an impressive feat for his long frame in a small car) as he let out a long-winded yawn. He smacked his lips, slowly looking around the parking lot, surveying his surroundings.

"Where are we, Dean?" Sam asked, extremely confused by the wilderness all around, the hotel being the only building in sight. He pushed himself up in his chair to get a better view.

"We're somewhere in Oklahoma. No idea where, exactly," Dean responded. He slowly but surely opened his door and swung out his badly cramping legs. He winced at the pain shooting up the abused muscles. "Maybe we should have stopped sooner," he thought to himself. Either way, tomorrow they'd be at their destination.

Sam went to the hotel desk and paid for the night while Dean gathered the things they'd need from the Impala. Upon seeing Sam returning with the key, he slammed down the trunk of the car and hefted two extremely large duffle bags over his shoulder.

"You ready, Sammy?" he questioned sarcastically with a quirk of his eyebrow. They both knew by the looks of the outside of this place that the inside of the hotel would be close to, if not completely, trashed.

It turned out that the inside of the room wasn't as bad as they had expected. It still smelled like something had died and was decomposing in there, but all of the furniture was intact, the AC was working, and the blinds covered most of the windows. All in all, they had seen worse, far worse, and at least they were used to the smell.

"Alright, Sammy, you start replacing the bedsheets and I'll watch some T.V.," Dean said cutely while directing his award winning smile at Sam. Sam thought it was a joke until Dean dropped his bag and plopped himself on the bed, remote in his hand. Instead of arguing, Sam decided that it would probably be easier to do it all himself. At least Dean wouldn't be in the way this time. Sam grabbed the sheets and yanked them from his bed, piling them in a ball at the end of the bed on the floor. He then unzipped his duffle, pulled out their own personal bed supplies, and began to fit them onto the mattress.

30 minutes later, both beds had been dressed with new sheets, the old ones in a trash bag. Dean was no help the entire time; he was too busy watching some crappy medical drama show called "Doctor Sexy M.D."

"Dean, I thought you were tired. I'm ready for bed and the volume is up way too loud. You can take a shower tonight, and I'll take one tomorrow morning before we leave," Sam dictated to his brother, and Dean was pretty sure that was Sam's bitchface number 364. Dean shot a glare in return at Sam before shutting off the T.V. and grabbing his shower items. He got up and slowly traipsed over to the bathroom, and then, once inside, shut the door. Sam flopped onto his bed, old mattress springs squeaking in protest, exhausted from the ride. The gentle sound of the water coming from the bathroom quickly lulled him to sleep.

(Tiiiime break)

Needless to say, Sam did NOT want to wake up hearing "Heat of the Moment" ever again. It almost gave him a full on heart attack, especially because today was a Tuesday. Dean, however, rolled his ass out of bed without a care in the world.

"What's wrong, Sammy, don't you like Asia?" Dean smirked, knowing full well what this song meant for the Winchester boys, his brother in particular. Instead of an actual response, Sam flung his pillow at Dean's face. Dean easily blocked it with his arm and chuckled to himself.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Sam glared, throwing off the bed sheets and not really expecting an answer.

While Sam was getting ready for his shower, Dean began packing up their stuff. As the sound of the shower being turned on came from inside the bathroom, Dean's phone began to ring loudly. It caught him off guard, and he momentarily stared at his personal phone, not knowing whether to answer it or not. Nobody but close personal friends (and Sammy, of course) should have that number. Making up his mind up quickly, he swiped at the answer button.

"Hello? Who is this?" Dean questioned the caller.

"Dean? Dean!? Are you there?" the unknown person exclaimed, sounding breathless and utterly terrified.

"Yeah, I'm here, who is this?" Dean asked again, concerned and immediately on edge.

"Dean, I don't know how much longer I can hold them off. There are monsters everywhere, and they're after me. Dean, you need to get to Austin, Texas, and save- AHHH!" Dean winced at the shriek coming from the receiver. More screams and disgusting wet gnawing sounds blared from the phone as Dean slowly pulled his ear away. Suddenly, a new voice crackled over the line.

"Heyo, Dean," the decidedly masculine, accented voice spoke, "Seems your little hunter friend isn't doing so well. Maybe you should pay him a visit." Dean narrowed his eyes; he could practically see the smirk on the man's face. "Come get me if you can, dollface," the unknown man said, and with that, the phone line went dead.

"Who was that?" Sam asked, toweling off his hair. Dean looked over to Sam, who was now fully dressed, and he could only blankly stare at him. Sam could see the hollow look in Dean's eyes and began to panic. "Dean, who was it? Is Bobby okay? What's going on?" Sam fired question after question at his brother. Dean could only mumble out incoherent sentences, and Sam advanced toward him and snatched the phone from his hand. He looked at the screen, and only an unknown number sat on the display, flashing that the call had been ended. "Who is this, Dean?" Sam hissed.

"I-I don't know, Sam. He called screaming for my help, but then I could hear flesh being ripped open, and I seriously doubt that the dude is alive anymore. Someone else picked up his phone after that. I think it was the monster who killed him... He told me to 'come get' him," Dean explained with a horrified and faintly disgusted look on his face, "The hunter didn't even have time to tell me what was after him," he finished, looking at the floor, and heaving a shaky sigh.

"We'll get whatever it is, Dean. Do you know who the caller was?" Sam consoled his brother, trying to stay calm. Dean speechlessly shook his head, pressing his palms over his eyes and desperately trying to block out the memory of the sound of screams and a body being ripped apart.

(Tiiiiiime skiiiip)

After the unnerving call, Sam and Dean loaded up their stuff as quickly as possible and hit the road. A few stops later, Sam checked the web for any more murders like the ones before, and found that 6 newly mauled bodies were discovered in the same area.

"So, Dean, I know we're almost there, but we might hit a problem once we arrive," Sam commented, after taking a bite from the bagel they had bought from the gas station. "It seems they've quarantined the whole area where the mass murders have occurred, and they aren't letting anyone in or out without an express written consent from Homeland Security," Sam continued with a frown, "I don't think we can swing that from Bobby this time." His tone was disappointed and mildly irritated. Dean huffed in annoyance at the news. "How are we going to get in?" Sam inquired. Dean shrugged tensely, not knowing any real solution to the problem.

"I don't know, Sammy, I mean, there's really n- OH COME ON!" Dean spat in anger. The blockade of police cars and officers showed up earlier than either of the boys had expected. Looking ahead, Dean noticed a hefty man who barely fit in his uniform waving them down. Slamming his foot down on the brake, he pulled up next to the policeman. "Hey, officer," Dean said, flashing a brilliant smile, "My brother and I are here to see some relatives. What seems to be the problem?" He composed his face to look as innocent as possible.

"Road's closed on account of the murders 'appenin 'round here," the overweight gentleman drawled the words with a thick southern accent, "You'll have to come see 'em another time," he finished with a lazy smile. A twinge of irritation pushed it's way into Dean's face as he backed up, made a u-turn and peeled down the road, knowing that if he stayed any longer, he might have told the larger man to fuck off and go find a donut factory.

"Dean, calm down. We'll figure a way in somehow," Sam tried to soothe his brother's rising temper. "Look over there," Sam said, pointing at a wide dirt path coming up on the shoulder of the road, "Let's go down there and we'll think of a way to get past them," he suggested. Dean immediately turned off onto the road, throwing dust and mud up behind them.

After a small amount of time driving down the winding path, Dean stopped the car, cut the engine, and breathed for a second, rubbing his temples. "Okay, Sam, I have an idea. We can call Cas, and he'll mojo us into the town." He sounded frustrated to have to rely on the angel, and Sam carefully mulled the idea around in his head for a while before nodding in agreement. They needed Cas, he was really their only option at this point. "Castiel, Oh Castiel, where art thou feathery ass?" Dean questioned the sky with his usual amount of tact. A second later, the familiar sound of wings flapped into the back seat, followed by that dragged-over-gravel voice.

"Hello Dean."