Disclaimer; I don't not own Supernatural or the boys.

Here is chapter two. I just want to thank anyone that has read the first chapter and or commented on it. I don't know how long this story will be or when I'll be able to post updates, but I try not to go more than a week without something new. Anyways...enjoy!

CHAPTER 2

The sun started to rise in the early morning sky, though Sam and Dean's motel room remained fairly dark, the TV being the only form of light in the room. Thick brown curtains on the only window in the room blocked out the sun.

Sam rolled over and groaned softly. His internal clock was telling him it was time to rise and shine, but his body was telling him to keep sleeping. He rolled over, pulling his face out from his pillow and settling on his back. He looked at the digital clock on the nightstand, red numbers flashing 7:45 A.M. He sighed and forced himself to sit up. He looked over at Dean, who was lying flat on his back with his mouth gaping open. He reached for one of his dirty socks and tossed it at Dean's face. "Rise and Shine." Sam said to him.

Dean made a gurgled noise as he breathed in the stench from Sam's sock. He rolled over, the sock falling on the pillow and his nose pushing right into it. He gagged once and immediately shot up, his eyes opening wide. He looked down at the pillow and pulled the sock up, making an 'ew' face before chucking it on the floor. "Good one dick face." He replied sarcastically, as Sam made his way for the bathroom.

Sam laughed and kept walking. "I'm gonna hit the shower." He replied, stepping into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and started the shower.

Dean gave Sam the evil eye, though his younger brother couldn't see it from the bathroom. He glanced at the TV that was still on. It was an early morning news broadcast. A middle aged blonde woman was on location talking into a microphone. "I'm Meredith Warren and we're standing at the corner near the Brookstone apartments," The camera panned over to what looked like a series of brick townhouses. Yellow police tape squared off an area in front of one of the buildings and a row of police officers were blocking the view of anything past the tape. A coroner's van was in the shot as well. Meredith continued. "where a young woman's body was found only a short time ago. Police suspect she was murdered by who many are now calling the Witch Hunter. He's claimed three victims so far, though it is suspected he's also responsible for a slue of similar murders in Atlanta and in New York." She continued on, but Dean flipped off the TV. He had heard enough. It was clear that this 'Witch Hunter,' was probably the one he and his brother would soon be after. That being the case, the woman on the news was the latest victim.

Dean climbed out of bed and figured that while Sam was in the bathroom, he would take the time to change clothes quickly or shirts anyways. He changed t-shirts and pulled one of his typical button up shirts over it.

A short while later, Sam emerged from the bathroom. He was dressed, but his hair was still damp from his shower. He found Dean sitting on the edge of his bed with the computer in his lap, which was almost an odd sight. Dean didn't typically do the research portions of their hunts, though he had done so on a few rare occasions. "Whatcha looking up?" Sam asked him.

Dean glanced up from the computer screen. "There was a murder this morning or sometime last night." He replied. "Killer's been labeled the Witch Hunter." His fingers formed air quotes when he said Witch Hunter.

"So that's our guy?" Sam asked.

"I would assume." Dean said. He closed the computer. "Apparently this witch hunter is suspected in murders that took place in Atlanta and New York." He used air quotes again when he said witch hunter.

"You done with those air quotes?" Sam asked with a tone of annoyance. "How many victims total?"

"Eleven." Dean answered and then elaborated a bit more on the murders. "They all died from blood loss, cut across the throat I guess. Most victims were killed in their own homes and a few victims were found near their homes."

"What, is he going for some kind of record?" Sam replied rhetorically. "Guess we should go talk with the local PD."

Dean rose from the bed. "I'll get suited up." He said as he walked off towards the bathroom.

Suited up Sam thought as he headed to the Impala to get his 'FBI' suite and both of their badges from the trunk. He'd never heard Dean use the phrase 'suited up' before, but it seemed like something his brother might say or like something a super hero might say. To the world Dean was not a super hero though. To the world he was just another human being taking up space and so was Sam.

Sometimes Sam wondered if they deserved the space they were taking up, if they deserved to even be in the world. He didn't think so much about Dean, but mainly himself. Deep down he was a freak, someone with tainted blood. He betrayed Dean in more ways than he can count and brought about the apocalypse by unleashing Lucifer into the world. He did some pretty awful things when he was without his soul, though Dean has always insisted it wasn't really him doing those things.

Sam slammed the trunk and tried to push away his thoughts. He tried to change his demeanor and facial expression before he re-entered the motel room. Dean always had a knack for knowing when Sam was deep in thought by the expression he usually had on his face. He must not have done a good job of changing his facial expression though. "What are you thinking about?" Dean asked him.

Sam rolled his eyes, mainly at himself. "It's nothing." He lied.

"Yeah, I doubt that." Dean replied. "Come on, out with it."

"Dean, it's nothing." He said back, trying to brush it off.

Dean took a step towards him. "You were thinking about Hell weren't you?" He asked, almost demanding to know.

He wished he could just lie to Dean again, but his lies were always what got him into trouble. He couldn't fall back on keeping things from Dean, so he told Dean the truth. "I know this sounds stupid, but sometimes I wonder what I'm really doing here." Sam replied.

"Like, here as in Salem, cause we can pick up and leave if you want. Heck why not go to Disney World. It's the happiest place on earth right?" Dean said, partially being sarcastic.

Sam sighed. "I'm trying to be serious." He replied and then turned away in frustration. "Just forget it."

"No, no." Dean said. "What do you want me to say? You don't know what you're doing here, why you're alive. Do you think I know what I'm doing here, cause Hell if I know. There are people ten times better than I'll ever be and yet I live and they don't. I don't know why either one of us are here, but we are. So, we might as well make the best of things and kill some evil sons of bitches along the way."

"Is that supposed to be some kind of pep talk?" Sam asked sarcastically.

"Call it what you want, we have a killer to deal with." Dean pulled his suite coat on.

"Fine, I'll go get suited up." He said using air quotes.

Dean smiled as Sam walked passed him. "Now who's using air quotes?" He let out a chuckle.

Sam ignored him and changed into his suite. Once ready, he and Dean ventured into the world, heading for the local police station. The sun was bright, not a lot of clouds in the sky. They stopped at a local place for some quick coffee on the way.

At the police station, they asked to speak to the head detective on the witch hunter case. After flashing their badges, a woman at the front desk told them she'd be right back with the detective. She walked off in search of him.

A man in a cheap looking gray suite approached them. His hair was starting to turn gray, more from stress than from age. He didn't really look all that old. "I'm detective Bellock." He said. "It's about time we got some agents out here."

"Ah of course. I'm agent Rossington." Dean flashed his badge. He gestured to Sam. "This is agent Collins."

"Are you the guys that were in New York?" Bellock asked.

Dean gave Sam a quick glance before answering. "No, one of the agents is on medical leave. Had a heart attack I think." He lied. "They put us on the case out here. We're still going over the previous files though, trying to get familiar with the case. So, if we seem a little clueless I deeply apologize."

"Why don't we step into my office so we can talk about the case." Bellock suggested. He motioned for them to follow him back to a sort of conference room. It had a long table in it with three chairs on each side. There was a big dry erase board set up in the room with various pictures on it and information regarding the murders. Some file folders were laid out on the table. "Have a seat."

Dean wasn't thrilled about sitting in a police station, but they needed more information on the case. Technically, he and Dean had been declared dead at one point and at another point they were on a 'Most Wanted' list. Sitting at a police station was really risky for them, but they needed more information on the case that they couldn't simply read in various news reports. The police were keeping some information from the media.

Almost as if Sam had read his mind, he said. "We're pretty busy. Maybe we could just get some copies of all your files." He glanced around the room.

"Sure." Bellock replied. "We can get you some."

Dean motioned to the white board. "Are those crime scene photos?" He asked.

"Yeah, that's Melinda Halliwell." He pointed to one picture of a young blonde woman. Her throat was slit and her neck and chest were covered in dried blood. "She was killed in her own apartment." He pointed to the picture right below it. "This altar of sorts was set up near the body. Candles laid out on the floor around it. Five of them."

In that same picture, Dean saw some sort of red symbol on the altar. "What's that on the altar." He asked curiously.

Bellock reached for a picture on the table and held it up. "We think it's some sort of demonic or wiccan symbol." He explained. "Found one in each home drawn with the victims blood."

"So you think the killer went through all the trouble of setting up this altar with the candles around it and drawing out this symbol before killing each victim?" Sam asked.

"No, we've talked to friends, relatives of each victim and they claim that the victims were Wiccan and that most Wiccans have some sort of altar in their homes for various purposes." He replied. "We think the killer just put out the candles and drew out the symbol."

"Aside from being Wiccan, was there anything else the victims had in common with one another?" Dean asked.

"None that we can see." Bellock answered. "Let me go get you some copies of these files."

"Of course, thank you." Sam said. Bellock walked off and he turned to Dean. "So we've go three different cities, eleven victims total, and they were all Wiccans."

"Yeah and we've got this." Dean held up the picture of the symbol that was drawn in blood.

"Seems to me that these victims are being sacrificed, though I couldn't tell you why until I maybe figured out what this symbol means." Sam replied. "It wouldn't surprise me if it's demonic though."

"Of course demons have to be involved." Dean said. "Why can't it ever just be some whacked out humans."

"Wait, you didn't suspect that demons were involved in the first place?" Sam asked, his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion.

"Well yeah, but if it were just some typical whacko, we could move on, do something else." Dean replied. "Leave it to the cops."

Sam let out small laugh. "And do what, go to Disney World?" He asked sarcastically.

"Well, it is the happiest place on earth." Dean said with a smile.

Detective Bellock came back in the room holding out a set of file folders. "Here's all the copies we have on the case." He said.

Dean cleared his throat. "Right of course." He replied, taking the folders.

"We'll be sure to keep in touch." Sam said before leading Dean out to the Imapala.

The sun was nearly blinding now. Dean wished he had a pair of sunglasses. "What do you say we talk to a few friends and family members of the victims?" He suggested. He climbed into the driver's seat and started up the car. The sun beaming on it made the inside unusually warm.

"Yeah, ok." Sam took his usual place in the passenger seat. "It couldn't hurt."

Ok, so reviews anyone? If any of you are returning readers (and I know at least one of you are), I hope you like this story as much as you liked the the first one.