"Check this one out—someone up in Idaho vandalized a potato field. I mean Jesus, that's about every single offensive word in the history of the human language, right there." Dean chuckled. "Burned it right into the ground."

Sam peered at him over the top of his own newspaper. "And?"

"Nothin', I just thought it was…" Dean caught sight of Sam's unamused look and shook open his paper again. "Okay, then." They were sitting at the table in the dingy motel that they'd taken residence in after their last vampire run-in at Salt Lake City. Things around the country had been relatively quiet. Dean scratched an eyebrow and held the paper higher so it could catch one of the rays or early morning light filtering in through the window screen. After looking through it for a few more seconds, his eyes narrowed.

"Learning some new words, Dean?"

Dean's head appeared above his paper. "There are other burn marks in the field," he said, flattening it out and holding it up for Sam's inspection. "Dude—is that Enochian?" Sam lowered his own article and looked at the picture Dean was brandishing in his face. He didn't read Enochian, but the symbols were unmistakable. Dean continued. "Think we should call Cas?"

"Wait, no." Sam took the paper, starting to recognize a couple of the symbols. "I don't think that the person who wrote this actually knew how to write Enochian."

"Excuse me?"

"They're just words. Disjointed swearwords. I think I saw Cas writing them once."

"Cas swearing in divine language?"

"Yeah. Can't remember why. This looks more like some kid who got ahold of an Enochian book."

Dean groaned and put his head down on the table. "More kids getting possession of magic books. Love it."

"If we can get up Idaho quickly and find and confiscate the book, it should be relatively simple."

"Well, nothing says simplicity like a fast case and a bag of fries." Dean threw the paper back on the table and picked up his jacket, but he was chuckling as he put it on. "Simple. Yeah, that'll be the day."

Five hours later they stood over the marks in the grass, which were much larger in person than they'd appeared in the photograph, but nothing seemed out of place other than the angelic scorches.

Sam shrugged. "I can't see anything weird. You?"

"Can't see nothin' but something doesn't smell right."

"What, like… sulphur?"

"No, I mean that even if some kid did get an angel book, burning Enochian curse words into a field seems completely—"

"Winchester?"

They both turned around to see a woman standing in the field behind them, warily looking over both them and the Impala. She gestured to the blackened potatoes. "Nice of you to get my message."

For once, Dean had no idea how to react, so he looked her over again, realizing that she was no more than a girl. She looked about nineteen, brown hair, blue eyes, dressed in boots, cargo pants, and a large jacket that spoke of practicality. Seeing their abundant suspicion, she pulled a flask out of her pants pocket and unscrewed the top, holding it up for Dean to get a glimpse of the cross engraved into it. She took a drink. She then rummaged in another pocket and took out a knife, drawing it across her forearm and leaving a trail of blood. "This knife is pure silver, so see? Clean. Before you start assuming that knowing your name makes me something sinister."

Sam spoke from behind Dean. "Okay. So, who exactly are you?"

"I'm the local hunter, but this is getting to be more than what I can handle. I need help. If you're willing to give it." She held out the flask and Dean took it, drinking from it before passing it to Sam. She tried to offer him the knife as well, but he took out his own, slicing his hand before nicking Sam's arm without permission, earning an "Ow!" but nothing unusual. She nodded passively as she took the flask back.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, Dean clearing his throat as the girl stowed the flask in one of her many pockets. "You got a name?"

"Evyn Pearce."

"You're a hunter."

"That's right."

"So what's the right way to take down a ghoul?"

"Head shot," she replied immediately. "It takes the form and memories of the last person it's eaten, but silver has no effect. Neither does salt or holy water."

Dean seemed satisfied, so Sam stepped forwards. "Do you have someplace more private we can talk?"