Read Chapter One!

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or the Winchesters even though I wish I did.

Set After: What Is and What Should Never Be (Season 2 Episode 20)

Rating: T for language and violence

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W

Dean stumbled off of the bike and barely missed landing on his ass. Before he really saw the pavement, a hand clutched his arm and pulled him back up.

"Sorry about that. I like to go fast." Anabell giggled once Dean was steady on his feet. He swallowed the nausea down and smiled at her.

"Me too." He laughed. His throat was dry from the thick wind he had been pushed through. She shook her head as her hands quickly reached up and pulled the black helmet off. Her hair fell over the shoulders of the leather jacket and she giggled again, her nose crinkling up as she did so.

"I can tell. You're as white as a…"Her eyes shallowed, "As a ghost." Her smiled faded and she turned away. Dean pushed his eyebrows together.

"What's wrong?" He asked, pulling his own helmet off and clearing his throat as he tried to adjust to the light around him. Anabell turned her head slightly in his direction and sighed quietly.

"Nothing. Let's get the stuff and get back to the hotel." She ran her fingers through her black hair and walked towards the glass door of the grocery store. Dean pressed his lips together. Even though her vague feelings weren't subtle, Dean wasn't sure of what to think of her. Sure, she was hot and strong like most women he had dated, but something about her…didn't seem right. Like she knew more than she was letting on.

Dean cleared his throat again, and let his chin fall back against his chest as he heard the door open. He glanced back up and dropped the helmet over the handles of the motorcycle before quickly catching up. The automatic doors opened silently for him and he stepped into the humid air of the small town shop that was filled with the right amount of locals at this early hour. Dean stole a look at Anabell once more as she unzipped her jacket and grabbed a hand cart. She looked back over her shoulder, a tired expression on her pretty face.

"Come on you sissy." She called before looking away. Dean licked his lips and ran a hand over his face before walking to her side. He had tried not to think about this sense last night, but every time he looked at her, at how she walked, talked, and acted, he saw Carmen. The girl of his dreams. The girl he had left because of his self-destructive need to help everyone. But like he needed to tell himself over and over, it wasn't a girl, it was just a dream.

He slid his hands into the pockets of his blue canvas jacket and glanced down each aisle as they passed. The soft sound of a paper unfolding caught his troubled attention and he turned to look at Anabell as she stopped. Her hands gripped a list tightly as her eyes moved from left to right as she read the items hidden from him.

"What do you need?" He asked, turning back to her and trying to read the list over her shoulder. Her eyes briefly looked up at him before returning to the crumpled paper.

"You wouldn't know where to get it." She smirked.

"Try me." Dean lightly punched her shoulder. Anabell lifted her head and stared at him with a confused glare. The smile disappeared off his face and he looked away. He could see her roll her eyes out of the corner of his and inhaled deeply. So she wasn't that in to joking around. Maybe that would change.

"Fine. If you think you know where the eggs are, by all means, go ahead." She shook her head and folded the paper back into a neat square.

"Easy. It's with the milk." Dean glanced back at her and bobbed his head.

"Where's the milk?" She gave him a smug smile and crossed her arms over her chest. Dean grimaced.

"I'll…go…find it." He rolled his neck shortly and let his eyes drift up to the signs above.

"While you do that, I'll go look for the tequila." She teased and walked in the other direction, her footsteps echoing in the quiet store. Dean clenched his jaw and started down a random aisle, not really knowing where to look. He had been in many gas stations before where everything was set out ready for you to grab. But grocery stores…he was like a 5 year old without his mother in a store like this.

Without his mother…

He gulped down the regret and rubbed the back of his neck as he wondered around, not really paying attention. Was it all a mistake to leave everything behind? His mom, Carmen, Sam with Jess…his life would be so much easier and he might actually feel…comfortable.

After about six minutes of walking around the florescent-lighted nightmare, he stumbled on the dairy aisle. He smiled as he spotted the rack filled with eggs.

"Bingo." He muttered to himself and stepped foreword. Dean reached out his hand to grab a carton when he noticed all the different types and colors. Eggs were not his forte. He looked around, hoping someone would come to the rescue, and pursed his lips. No one. Of course. He rubbed the back of his head and narrowed his eyes at the various grades. "I so didn't sign on for this." He mumbled, his lip twitching.

The hard thud of footsteps made Dean turn his attention from the crazy nonsense. A large, portly man stumbled foreword, his thinning air making his head glow in the bad lighting. Dean glanced the man up and down, taking in the overall messiness of his man as he walked towards the milk. He wore a dirty opaque undershirt with an equally dirty and unbuttoned flannel shirt over it. His jeans were ripped, worse than Dean's, and had oil spots all over them. Dean raised his eyebrows in a quick, fluid motion before pushing them back together as he returned to the complicated egg hunt. The man turned towards Dean and his lips parted.

"Dean Winchester." The man said, his scruffy voice filled with the hint of sadness. Dean raised his head slowly, his heart pounding in his chest.

How…?

"What?" Dean asked, pushing his eyebrows together; worry building up in his chest.

This is not good. Not good at all.

The corners of the man's lips curled into an unpleasant smile. Dean's eyes followed the overweight man's hand as he reached towards the waistband of his pocket and pulled out a .45 revolver.

"Whoa, whoa man." Dean took a step back and held out his hands. His eyes stayed locked on the gun as it raised in the air, momentarily pointing at him, then to the man's head. "Don't don't do it." Dean begged, trying to figure out how he could get the gun away. If he could, this would end pretty…but of not…

He should have thought more quickly.

The man pulled the trigger and the unpleasant sound of bullet hitting skin filled Dean's ears as brain and blood splattered against the milk jugs. The limp body fell to its knees. A spot of blood splattered against his cheek as he inhaled, his hands still outstretched in front of him. He stared at the man as he stayed perfectly balanced on his two knees, despite the loss of brain. The man lifted his head slowly, the hole on the side visible, and screamed.

An eruption of black smoke forced itself out of the damaged body and filled the rafters of the small shop, before disappearing into nothing. The loud thump was barely heard as Dean's eyes clouded over.

What the Hell just happened?

He exhaled abruptly and let his eyes drift back down to the body as a pool of blood inched across the floor.

W

Sam unfolded the newspaper as he leaned back against the wooden chair. The small restaurant was filled with the chatter of travelers eager to get on the move as they filled up on pancakes and coffee. It wasn't much different than the other places Sam and Dean had stayed, but it felt…better. Warmer. Sam sighed and leaned his elbow against the arm of the chair as he read the headlights, searching for something, anything. They needed a hunt right now to clear Dean's mind. He was so…preoccupied lately, that it was starting to worry Sam. Scare him even. If Dean kept at this, they could wind up dead.

The waitress walked over and placed a hot mug of coffee on the table as Sam continued to search for his prize. He smiled up at her.

"Thanks." He tossed the newspaper back on the paper and gripped the mug between his big hands. The waitress nodded, her teenage appearance only making her silence seem normal. She slowly walked away, tossing a dish towel over her shoulder and stepping into the busy kitchen. Sam took a sip of the intoxicating drink and sighed happily at the soothing taste. Coffee was his honey. It was the only thing that allowed him to do his job right. Without coffee, he was a useless as boobs on a man. He placed the cup back on the wooden dining table and grabbed the newspaper again before turning the page. His eyes scanned the headlines and scoffed when the only thing he could find was articles on the local crops and new tourist attractions.

He shook his head lightly, his hair waving subtly, and turned the page again. A group of college students walked passed, laughing loudly at a joke which wasn't even funny, and tossing a ball to each other. Sam rolled his eyes and tried to focus on the paper as the room got louder. He briefly checked his watch.

6:37 a.m.

His lips folded against his teeth as he rubbed his forehead. He couldn't keep his mind on the paper right now. He kept thinking about Dean and how stubborn he was. It was totally like his older brother to go after the first decent girl they find after he practically had to leave his dream life behind. Sam could understand how he felt, but it was stupid of him to throw himself into a pit of despair which he was heading for. For once, Sam would like his brother to talk to him instead of ignoring him.

At least he had gotten something.

Sam turned the page stiffly, hating this whole act that he had to deal with.

His eyes caught on the last headline on the page, an obituary no less, and narrowed his eyes. But as he read it, his eyes widened further.

"Holy shit." He muttered and pulled the cell phone from his back pocket, nearly knocking the coffee off of the table. Finally, something good to get Dean back to attention.

W

Dean tapped his foot against the linoleum floor as he watched the paramedics lifted the heavy body onto a gurney. Anabell shifted uncomfortably next to him, her hands clenched by her side. Dean glanced at her through the corner of his eyes, taking in her hunched sitting and hollow look in her eyes. Her lips were pressed tightly together but Dean could see them tremble.

"Why the hell would a guy commit suicide in a grocery store?" She asked after about ten minutes. Dean's eyes went back to the red stain on the ground and the gun lying in the middle. He had more troubling questions to answer.

It was a demon.

His jaw clenched. What sort of demon would blow out their meat suit's brains before leaving it? He hated these kinds of things. Humans were supposed to be the crazy, unpredictable things and demons were supposed to be able to understand. Dean looked back at Anabell. This whole thing was opposite day. The phone in his pocket vibrated silently and he pulled it out slowly, not giving a damn right now.

"Hello?" He muttered, watching as a police officer dropped the revolver into an evidence bag. He really needed to get out of her, but only when Anabell was ready. Dean couldn't remember how to get back to the hotel or if it was even close.

"Dean, where are you?" Sam's voice was filled with giddy excitement which bothered Dean at a time like this, when he was freaking out.

"At the damn grocery store. There is some whacked up shit going on here Sam. A guy just fucking blew his head off in front of me." Dean stood up slowly and walked away from Anabell and the circling cops.

"What?" Sam's tone thickened with worry. Good ol' Sam.

"That's not all. The guy knew my name and, after I saw enough brains for the day, a bunch of black smoke dislodged itself from his throat." Dean winced at the thought of what happened. He was used to seeing people die around him, but this was different.

"What?" Sam asked again, panic rising in his boyish voice.

"Dude this is serious." Dean muttered, not really to Sam, but more to himself as he looked back at the puzzled police. He could see Anabell stand up, her leather jacket now in her hands. He looked away and turned his attention to the boxes of macaroni in front of him.

"I'll be there in a few minutes."

"No. There's five-o everywhere." Dean muttered, rubbing his sore eyes. "Last thing we need is to end up back in jail."

"Well then head back here; I have to show you something."

"'K. See yaw'." Dean quickly pressed end on the Chocolate and slid it back into his pocket. He placed a hand on his waist and scratched his cheek.

"You okay?" Anabell's soft voice asked from nearby. Dean glanced up to see her approaching slowly, her eyes bloodshot. He nodded once.

"Let's get out of here." He muttered. "I can't stand murder scenes."