Sam stepped over the curb and walked up to the Starlight motel. He unlocked room thirty-two. Inside, the walls were an appalling dark blue. The beds were dressed in the same dreary color and the only breaks in the monochrome space were the large yellow stars that were splattered on the comforters. His brother was sprawled on the closest bed with his hand gripping the pistol under the pillow. Sam hoped he'd managed to sleep some while he'd been gone. His brother opened his eyes as Sam came into view. He looked rested. Or maybe it was restless. Not tired, anyway. So Sam counted that as a win.

"So, how'd it go?" Dean said, sitting up. "You get your geek on with the forensics chick?"

"Her name is Abby, Dean." Sam could care less about his snide tone. He sat down beside Dean on the bed and stretched out his long legs.

Dean stared at him for a moment. Then his brother smirked, waggling his eyebrows. "Oh, little Sammy has a little crush."

"Grow up, man." Sam threw a pillow at his head and sighed. He felt electrified – like something wasn't right. "This is a really, really bad idea. I can't believe you talked me into this."

"This is a great idea, Sam. We need information. They have information. They want to stop these deaths. We can do that."

"I don't know, Dean." Sam traced the starburst on the comforter with his finger. "They find out who I am…" His voice trailed off as images of running from every badge in the country floated into his mind. They had enough to worry about with most of hell and half of heaven gunning for them. He fixed his eyes at his brother. "The last thing we need is to end up back on the federal government's most wanted list. I'd prefer it if they keep thinking were dead."

Dean made a dismissive hiss. "Freakin' Feds, Sam. When have they ever figured anything out? Don't worry about it. Those papers will hold up. Bobby said so." Dean patted his knee and stood up. "Look, we'll get the information, kill the monster, and they'll never have a clue. It's a win, win…win."

Sam's instincts prickled. "I guess." His said with uncertainty in his tone. "It's just Abby is as smart as they get..."

"Abby, right…" Dean leaned against the dark wall, his features striking against it. "So what does she look like? Hot little librarian type or maybe…"

"And…" Sam cut him off. And, yeah, there was no way was he telling Dean the forensic scientist was a sunny, goth number in platform shoes and black clothes. Sam didn't know what his brother would do with that information, but he was convinced it would end in merciless ribbing for Sam. He wouldn't hear the end of it for years…well…if they managed to live that long. He raised his voice. "Gibbs has that capable, marine vibe. Complete with the scary Dad stare and everything. I doubt much gets past him."

Dean shrugged. "Capable and fed? Dude, isn't that an oxymoron or something." Sam glanced at him, unable to hide the surprise on his face. Dean huffed. "Yeah, Einstein, I know what it means. Anyway, aren't you putting out the full-on gentle giant routine. Just keep giving them the big, sad eyes and sweet, little smile thing. That always fools 'em."

Sam frowned, staring at the stars on the bed. In the past, he hadn't thought of that persona as an act. His hunter life – that used to be the other him, the part of him that wasn't real. His face wrinkled into a frown. When had everything gotten so turned around?

Dean mistook his dismay for something else. "He won't find out." His brother said with conviction in his tone. Sam thought about that. His gut wasn't so sure.

"I asked Abby about him."

"Yeah. And?"

"And she didn't say much. Clearance or something. But she mentioned he used to be a marine sniper." Sam watched his brother. Dean seemed reluctantly impressed. Sam rubbed his hand through his hair, trying to keep the annoyance off his face. His brother was definitely missing the point here. Sam continued. "I don't want a damn sniper after us, Dean. And I don't want the feds hunting us along with everything else."

Dean shrugged. "Then don't get caught. And don't piss him off. End of story." Dean shifted, frowning at the dark walls. His work face fell over his features. "So, what did you find out?"

Sam let a long suffering sigh puff from his lips. "Well. I don't think it's a mermaid anymore." Sam said. His brother waited. "The petty officer drowned in freshwater. I'm guessing it's the same for the others."

"Oh. Then maybe a lake spirit or something?"

"Maybe. Whatever it is; it's killing people when they're out of the water. I'm thinking a wodnik. They can survive on dry land and mostly can pass for human."

"Mostly?"

"Well, legend has it they appear as old, unclothed men with a greenish tint to their skin."

"Huh. So we're hunting a naked, old, green man. Sounds about right." Dean sighed. He didn't say anything else, but Sam could tell visions of hot mermaids were swimming in his mind from his wistful expression. Which was stupid, because Dean knew real mermaids were ugly, hermaphroditic, and covered in sharp scales.

Sam shook his head. "They're known to punish an insult to their territory with eight deaths. Abby and I found two possible locations for its nest. Neither is far from here." Sam paused. "And the second location is near an area park that recently built a walking trail around the pond. "

Dean nodded. "Yeah. That might piss a water spirit off. Do the feds know about the other victim?"

"Not yet. She wasn't military." Sam sighed. "And I'm still not sure how it's choosing victims. But the park held an 'Armed Forces Appreciation' day last week. Could explain when it got its hooks into the vics."

Dean crossed his arms. "So this thing, what, marked it's victims during the party and now is doling out deaths?"

"Seems like. Dean…" Sam knew his brother would take this personally. "Another soldier was found today. That puts the total to three."

"Three? Freakin' monsters." Righteous anger filled his brother's words. "Let's check it out tonight. Find this sonuvabitch and get rid of it."

"Wait." Sam used his 'think about this tone'. Not that it worked very often on his brother. "NCIS is securing both those locations as we speak." His stomach fluttered. He really didn't want to go to prison again. And he really, really didn't want to see his brother dragged to Supermax. Dean was just starting to sleep without startling awake from nightmares.

Dean snorted. "Sing Sing's got nothing on hell, dude." He said it like it was supposed to make Sam feel better. "Besides, it's not the first time we've crossed the yellow tape. We'll go late after they've run home to their snug little beds. "

"I don't know, man…" Sam still had a bad feeling about this one.

"Three people, Sam. This thing's just starting. We don't put an end to it now; more innocent people are going to die."

The idea of more deaths flipped Sam's stomach. He absently thought that maybe it was something he ate and not nerves pushing at his body. Besides, they had taken bigger risks than this before. Hell, they worked a job in prison when the feds knew they were alive and were after their heads.

"Yeah. You're right." Sam stretched back on the bed. "Let's go tonight. Consecrated, iron bullet to each eye should kill it."

Dean grinned. "So, that's it. We find a naked, green man and shoot out his eyes. That ends this?"

"Might not be that simple." Sam yawned, closing his eyes. "Not the killing. Destroying the eyes should work." He qualified. "But these things seem to adapt with the times. I'm just not convinced it'll be running around naked and green. Legends aren't always so literal. I'm also not convinced it will be corporeal unless it's on dry land or attacking a victim. It's a water spirit, afterall."

"Right. No reason to make it easy." Sam heard his brother shuffling around the room. "You rest up while I get us some grub. We don't catch this thing tonight – it's another hard day in the lab for you tomorrow." Then his brother chuckled. "Especially hard for you staring at this Abby all day, huh, Sam?"

Sam didn't answer, keeping his eyes shut. This job would go fine, he told himself. Nothing to worry about.