Written: 18 March

Soundtrack: My Wings by Lacuna Coil, Breath by Breaking Benjamin

Word Count: 5100+

Chapter 2

The police showed up shortly after the brothers called the body in and the place was officially taped up and locked down, crime scene investigators and local officers scouring the entire property for what they assumed now was an animal preying on the victims. After carefully checking the house to assure that there was no sign of their "demon" friend they headed back to the motel and left the rest of the work for law enforcement, deciding to return tomorrow when the smoke cleared.

Dean now found himself sprawled out on the bed closest to the door with a slight headache, staring at the cracked ceiling and puke colored walls, deciding at that moment to just state the obvious of their latest escapade. "That's not a demon."

"That's a spirit." Sam answered back, his face not coming off of his laptop as he scoured through more town records hoping to catch a break. "A real pissed off spirit."

"Okay at least we know how to kill it but now we need to find out, who the hell is it?" Dean propped himself up on his elbows and looked over to his brother sitting at the table and typing away diligently.

Sam knew that look. Dean was expecting an answer but unfortunately Sam didn't have any to give at the moment. "No idea."

"That's helpful." Dean scowled and let himself fall back on the pillow, slowly covering his eyes with his right hand.

"Dean, there's nothing here." Sam snapped back, the frustration of their leads doing nothing for them causing him to take it out on the only person around. "This town keeps its secrets locked up tighter than a damn bank vault." He went back at scrolling through documents but the details were vague at best. Shocker.

"Well then use your nerd magic and pry it open." Dean mumbled. He flipped his hand over to rest on his forehead, the cold knuckles resting against the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, focusing on trying to go to sleep.

"What'd you think I've been trying to do the last four hours genius?"

"Look I'm just saying." Dean shook his head as the threat of sleep swiftly started to make its presence known and caused the throb between his temples to shift a bit. "Maybe you should look into the towns past. See who was here before the place was settled. It wouldn't be our first native haunting. Maybe there was some tribe here who got kicked out and cursed the land. Remember that case with the bugs?"

"If that were the case then why would it be spewing its vengeance now? That property has been populated for almost 90 years."

"I'm just popping out ideas." Dean whispered and sighed as he let his body relax.

Sam gave a sigh of his own and started to look into Native American tribes that may have lived on the land before the town was established. By the time he found anything Dean was already pleasantly snoring, his perched hand now resting on the side of his face.

It was a good theory but the fact was that their spirit wasn't targeting townspeople in general but only residents who lived in that house and on that land didn't give Sam much. He decided to call it a night and closed his laptop, leaving it on the table and letting himself fall on the bed.

Dean hadn't moved from his spot and Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. Of course his brother hadn't bothered to change out of his clothes or cover himself. The temperature was going to dip into the low 30's that night and he was going to freeze his ass off. Sam didn't need his brother catching a cold or anything, God knew how cranky he could be when he got sick and walked over to the closet to pull out some of the quilts the motel offered. He found a couple of the thickest ones and carefully draped them over Dean, making sure to cover him up as much as possible without waking him.

Satisfied enough that he would stay warm, Sam pulled off his boots and dug himself under his own covers, quickly falling asleep without another thought.

The night was crawling by and Dean found himself engrossed in a vivid dream.

He was standing in the middle of a damp and wide cobblestone alleyway. There were lights hanging above him and bags of trash stacked against the brick walls on both sides. The end of the alley was closed off by a fence, a dumpster placed against it and the front led to the main street.

The air felt cold and misty and Dean could actually see his own breath when he exhaled.

A noise soon caught his attention and he could make out someone locking a metal plated door towards the back, the keys jingling as they were pulled out of the knob.

Dean couldn't make out a face as it was covered in shadow but could see through their shape that it was a short, thin young woman will long hair picked up in a high ponytail.

Dean tried to walk over to her but found his feet planted to the ground and he was unable to move. "What the hell?" Before he could even try to force himself to take a step he heard screaming and quickly looked back to see the young woman being attacked to the ground by a large man, his beefy hands grasped around her throat and choking her.

"Hey!" Dean yelled out, but found himself still unable to move and his voice made no indication that the man had even heard him. He continued to yell out in vain and watched as the young girl struggled and ran her nails into the skin of the man's face as she fought for air.

It was over within a matter of seconds, as Dean could clearly see the outline of a knife in the air and with one foul swoop the man drove it into the girls chest, her screams dying out almost instantly.

"NO!" Dean gasped along with her as her hands fell and she drew in a final breath, the knife driving deeper into her heart as her blood flowed from her mouth and down her chin.

Dean couldn't take his eyes off her, the air in his chest tightening in his lungs, his gaze refusing to turn away or even blink.

The man merely stared at his victim for just a minute and slowly picked himself up as he swiftly pulled out, her eyes closing and her head falling to the side.

Dean could only stare in shock as the man hid the dripping knife under his jacket and walked away, passing by Dean and making no notice of him whatsoever. Dean couldn't even see his face, his head and eyes masked by the shadows even with the lights overhead.

He tried to reach out to him but was surprised when he found his hands just passed right through. The man quickly reached the end of the alley and disappeared from sight, leaving an uncomfortable pit in Dean's stomach. He looked back at the young victim lying on the ground, blood pooling around her body and staining her shirt, jacket and jeans.

Dean could do nothing but gape, the want to say something, do something quickly falling short as a sense of dread slowly crept up into his chest.

Why couldn't he stop it?

The scene slowly began to fade as he heard rapid whispers surrounding him and the end of the alley was suddenly engulfed in bright gold light. Dean placed his arms over his eyes as it reverberated and burned at his skin, and he saw nothing but bright white afterwards.

His eyes virtually flew open, the walls of their motel room coming back into view.

He quickly found himself snapping his body into sitting position on the bed, the covers falling off of him and the cold air stinging at his sweat soaked skin. He gasped for breath and looked over at Sam who made no indication that he had even heard his brother wake. Staring at the clock on the wall opposite him, the moonlight peered through the window and Dean could see that it was just past two-thirty in the morning.

Dean continued to try and even out his breathing and gave out a long sigh as he quickly collected himself. He ran a hand down his face, wiping away at the sweat and remembering the feeling of desperation.

The dream seemed so real and Dean wondered if it was possible that he had actually witnessed the young woman's death or if it was just a figment of his imagination. Psychic visions were Sam's thing but he hadn't had one in years and they usually came with a raging headache or some other physical pain in the ass. He had the headache, the one from earlier seeming to have tightened its grip on him and adding nausea along with it but Dean knew that it was nothing compared to his brothers.

After a few minutes of staring down at nothing Dean eventually ruled it out as a simple nightmare and slowly crawled himself out of bed, heading to the bathroom.

The light burned his eyes as he flipped the switch and he recalled the last part of the dream for that split second. He quickly pushed it to the back of his numbing mind and walked over to the sink.

His reflection in the mirror was striking. His eyes held dark shadows underneath and his skin looked like it had gone ten shades of gray. In a sense, he looked like death had washed over him and he knew that feeling. He had lost count how many times death had him as a visitor at his door.

He quickly shook it off, grabbed a change of clothes from his duffel bag and turned on the shower, allowing himself to just stand there and be soaked through by the steaming water. By the time the water had gone cold Dean felt himself finally relaxed, his aching muscles were no longer tense and he stepped out. After drying himself and changing he quickly headed back to bed, dry popping a couple of aspirin for the already fading headache. He flipped the covers over to the drier side and carefully dug himself back under them, a sigh soon escaping his lips.

Sam stirred from his bed and turned to look over at Dean, groggily asking him if everything was okay.

"Go back to sleep Sammy." Dean replied flatly.

Sam didn't even protest and flipped back over to face the opposite wall, falling back to sleep almost instantly. It took Dean awhile but he soon found himself settling back comfortably on the mattress and was back to sleep soon enough.

Dean allowed himself to unwrap his body from the tangled covers and step out of bed when Sam had returned with coffee and donuts for breakfast.

"Rise and shine Dean." Sam nearly chimed. "Got us a couple of leads last night that I want to check out so, up and at em'."

He was in an unusually chipper mood. Dean wasn't really in any eager mood to do much of anything as Sam handed him a cup of coffee and took it gracefully.

Sam picked up on the silence of the room soon enough though and looked over at his brother who was looking more sluggish than usual. And when the heck did he change into pajamas? "You okay?" The concern in his voice was enough to make Dean sit up straight and stop staring solely at his coffee.

He merely looked up at his brother as he took a sip from his cup and nodded that he was fine. He didn't need Sam to worry about him, God knew that the kid could be a worrywart when he wanted to and quickly got up to grab a donut. He wasn't hungry but if Sam noticed his lack of wanting to eat then the doors would just swing right open and Florence Nightingale would come flying through. Good grief.

"So where are we at?" Dean asked, while stuffing a jelly powdered donut through his teeth.

"Well I picked up on a few things last night, nothing concrete but, it's more to go on." Sam handed him a file of his latest research and Dean skimmed through it, noticing that it was a list of local people who had gone missing down that old dirt road in the past century. It seemed like nothing considering the small number of names but then again, sometimes their smallest clues brought their biggest breaks.

After a little more web searching and a little more data collecting the two decided to suit up and pass by the morgue to check out their latest victim, the news of a fourth new 'accident' quickly spreading throughout the town. Dean also picked up on some of the locals talking about someone else dying the night before as they crossed the street but Sam pressed on about their evil spirit and decided to disregard the matter. After presenting their badges to the front desks new receptionist and catching up with the coroner again Dean and Sam headed back down to the morgue where the autopsy had already been finished.

"I tell you they just keep getting weirder and weirder around here." The coroner, Dr. Porter if they remembered correctly, pulled the sheet back and the brothers were immediately cast back to the night before when they found the man, his terrified expression refusing to be wiped off his face.

"So I'm assuming you have the same COD as in the other three victims." Dean asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Yep. Except this guy still had his lungs, stomach and intestines intact. His liver, kidneys, even his gallbladder, none of that was ever touched. Whatever did this probably didn't get to finish but, in my experience this looks more like it was done by an animal of some kind. I just don't know what yet."

"Well were there any foreign fibers or skin or anything like that on any of the victims?" Sam asked.

"Not that I could find. Then again finding a foreign skin is tough when you've got victims who literally look like they've been ripped open and chewed apart."

That made Dean make a face that Sam couldn't help but catch. Dean knew a thing or two about being a chew toy, not that he'd ever tell the doc that.

Dean and Sam merely glanced at each other and continued on with their questions, and when it came to personal questions on the home itself the answers they got were vague at best. Figures.

This town really didn't like sharing its secrets. It reminded Dean of their case in Burkitsville years ago with the freaky scarecrow.

What a town of loonies.

As Sam finished up with his final question and thanked the coroner, the two of them started to head out the door when another body near the front of the room caught Dean's attention. He paused for a moment and after a grasped second he recognized the person almost immediately. Sam caught Dean in his trance and asked him what was wrong but he soon realized it too.

Dean acted as if he didn't hear him and slowly walked over to the table, taking in the sight before him. The coroner noticed his spacing and walked up to him, joining him at his side.

"Her name was Isabelle Cartwright." He stated simply. "She was found murdered early this morning by her coworker Jennifer Morgan."

A brief flashback of the day before came back to him, the conversation between her and her friend being the stage point of his thoughts.

"What happened?" Dean slowly asked under his breath, his eyes refusing to remove themselves from her face.

"Cause of death was a stab wound to the chest, although bruising on the neck indicates that she may have been choked before then." The coroner picked up her file and read through some of the notes he had scribbled. "Body temperature indicated that she had died between two and four this morning. Young lady didn't even make it home."

The images from the dream came flooding back at Dean and Sam couldn't help but notice that he was a little lost in his own mind.

The coroner continued by saying that she struggled with her attacker and managed to collect some of his skin and blood under her nails. Thanks to that they managed to find the guy pretty quick but Dean didn't appear to be hearing any of that.

The flashes come again and he found them replaying in his mind over and over. The blood. The light. It just wouldn't let him go.

Dean finally loosened his grip on it and bows his head in disappointment, pinching the bridge of his nose and passing his hand through the side of his face. He brings it back down and asks gently who it was.

The coroner couldn't possibly understand why he even cared but told him anyway, his tone firm and prodded. "Guy who killed her is named Carlin Bates. Man owns the local diner."

Another flash of the conversation between Isabelle and her friend popped into his head and he wondered if that was the reason for the man suddenly taking her life. He obviously didn't have any details but from what he picked up it obviously hadn't been good.

He hands Dean her file and he carefully skimmed through it, noticing that her date of birth also ironically matched her date of death.

She had just turned 22 years old.

The coroner continued on to say that it was hard to deny it was him considering she gave him a few injuries of his own to deal with. Man was set to stand trial tomorrow. Dean's expression goes stern and cold as he closes the file and let his hands fall to his sides, staring back at her face and taking in its serenity. After a moment the doctor walked around him and covered her up.

On their way back to the car Sam notices that Dean is way too quiet and asks him what's going on. Dean doesn't even acknowledge him and goes around to the driver's side to open the car but before he manages to fit the key into the door he stops.

An awkward and silent moment passes before he lets out a frustrated sigh and clenches his teeth, carefully letting his hands fold themselves on the top of the car. Sam is starting to wonder what has Dean so distracted that he can't even say a word and worry starts to creep through him.

"Dean?"

After what seems like an eternity of the elder hunter staring into and saying nothing, he finally looks over at Sam and admits that he dreamt about her the night before.

"What?" Sam is now completely silent himself and looks at him as if he is unsure what he means. To say that it was troubling was the usual response but this seemed to be bothering Dean a much greater deal. Sam stays silent for a moment longer before asking.

"What are you talking about?" Sam tried to keep his voice calm as not to frustrate him anymore than he already was. He literally looked like he wanted to beat himself up.

"Exactly what I said Sammy." Dean looks up at him, noticing the look of disbelief etched across his brothers face. "I dreamt about her last night. I saw her die." He paused and let out another sigh, massaging his fingers into his eyes as if trying to relieve himself from his ever mounting stress. "I was there when it happened." He whispered so low that Sam barely heard him but he could tell by the tone in his voice that Dean felt somewhat responsible, and he sure as Hell wasn't going to allow him to go down this road.

"It wasn't your fault Dean." Sam nearly snapped but quickly buried the anger fueling in his throat. "There was nothing you could have done about it. It was just a dream." Sam chose his next words carefully, knowing that he had found himself in those shoes before and knew the feeling that such traumas could produce. Dean had been through enough torture, literally, and did not need to inflict anymore on himself.

Sam looked down at the ground and then back at his brother who had yet to take his gaze off his hands.

"Maybe it was her time Dean." He looked up at him, the look in his eyes telling him that he was half resentful, half doubtful, but Sam continued. "Granted it didn't happen the best way but, you know that He always takes us when it's our time. We know that more than anyone."

Dean stared down at Sam who sincerely hoped that he could believe that. Dean couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that was plaguing him but accepted it as an inevitable fact as he unlocked the door and got in. Sam quickly joined him and Dean started the engine without another word.

It was an inevitable fact. He knew that. Not everyone they came across could be saved from every demon.

After several hours of reading through the towns newspaper records, they had come across a missing persons report that was dated back in December of 1909 and noticed that the case remained unsolved. Witnesses at the time remember seeing the man last walking down the same dirt road the house was now located on but no one had seen him again after that.

After a little more digging, the brothers came to the conclusion that the victim's body may have been buried on the property. Sure enough when they returned to the house they found a shallow grave of bones buried under the porch.

The recent construction on the house had reawakened the spirit, and since he had obviously died a violent death, (not to mention the evil that rose there from the rituals which they soon found evidence of) the ghost had manifested into a malevolent spirit who preyed on the residents of the site in which he was buried and probably died.

After salting and burning the bones, as well as the house, cause God knows no one needs to step foot in this place again, the brothers deemed that their work in this town was finished. Sam started to pack their things back into the trunk as Dean watched the place slowly burn to the ground.

The short trip back to their motel was tense and quiet, and upon arriving Dean insisted that Sam finish packing up their things as he headed out real quick. Sam nods his head and Dean grabbed the keys from the table and walked out the door.

It was already late at night as Dean simply drove around for a bit, but soon found himself back at the diner where he saw the same blonde girl from the previous day cleaning up. He quickly parks the car and walks up to the door, slowly opening it and making his way in. She doesn't even turn around to address him and simply states that they are closed. Dean noticed her cracked voice and slowly made his way to the counter.

She turns around and he greets her, introducing himself but she cut him off, claiming to remember him from the day before.

Dean sees fresh tears sliding down her face and she doesn't make an attempt hide them as she glances to her side and wipes one away.

Even though this most likely wasn't the best time for her, he decided to try and slowly ease into conversation and quickly realizes that she was the one who had found Isabelle, the name Jennifer printed clearly on her name tag.

"How are you doing? Are you okay?" His tone was soft and languid, hoping to ease her a bit although he knew that might very well be impossible.

She simply shook her head no, her face looking down on the floor as the images of finding her friend lying in her own blood came flooding back at her. Dean eases himself into a seat and gently asked her if she wanted to talk about it. She simply sighs as she picks at her nails, wondering why a stranger would even care, but then looks back at him and lets a small smile escape her lips.

"You know a lot of people don't want to talk about it." She whispers, her voice cracking more as fresh tears slide down her face and she sniffs as she wipes them away. "He always approached us with his stupid lines and his sexist jokes and," She lowered her head in shame. "If we didn't acknowledge him he always insisted that he'd fire us and make sure that we couldn't find work anywhere else."

She stared straight back at Dean as he listened attentively, disgusted at what he was hearing as a knot lodged in his stomach.

"This is a small town, everybody talks and everyone knew what he was doing but…no one was willing to do anything about it. No matter what anyone said he still went on doing what he was doing and, a lot of us felt that there wasn't any other choice. Most of us have nowhere else to go."

She shook her head in frustration and reached out into her pocket, pulling out a thin silver chain and running it through her fingers. Dean immediately recognized it as Isabelle's, the angel shaped pendent swaying from the end of it.

Jennifer claimed that she had found it in the alley after the police took Isabelle's body away and that it was the last gift her father gave her before he died. Dean simply stared at it as she continued to run her fingers through it, as if trying to get some sort of comfort off of it.

"What about her Mom?" Dean gently asked her.

She shook her head again. "Angie's mom died when she was a baby. The day she was born she, had some sort of complication and just…passed away."

Dean felt sorry and let himself lower his head in silent mourning for a moment. To lose one's parents was never easy.

She curled the necklace back into her fingers and looks down at it, trying to force a smile out.

"You know what's funny though." She whispered as her gaze met back at his. "Her father always used to tell her that angels were watching over her. That's why he gave her the middle name Angela when she was born and why everyone called her Angie." She laughed softly as she recalled some of their moments together.

Dean got an unexplainable feeling in his throat at the statement, knowing full well that angels did watch over them but that not everyone had the privilege of getting to know their personal guardians, or even make friends with them.

It almost made him feel guilty.

"I guess he was wrong though." She states simply, carefully pocketing the necklace back into her apron, refusing to remove her hand from the objects embrace. "But I guess in a way she was looking after us. Now that Carlin Bates is being tried for her murder he can't hurt us anymore." She smiled, a wave of relief replacing her sorrow for just a moment. Dean noticed, even as her anguish crept its way back into her soul. "She helped free us you know. Now we don't have to be afraid of anything anymore." She paused for a second as she looked back at Dean, his eyes locked on hers as her smile returned. "Angie was our angel."

Dean couldn't help but agree and gave his condolences to her, saying goodbye and leaving the diner as she locked up. After walking her to her car, he headed back to the motel where Sam was waiting with their stuff and left.

After just a few hours on the road, Sam fell asleep in the passenger seat and Dean let the music of the car drown his thoughts. He mentally considered that God truly did work in mysterious ways, and that maybe, just maybe, he had mortal angels here on earth watching over everyone as well.

After their case in Estherville, Dean and Sam made their way back to Bobby's and Dean soon found himself calling out to Castiel. He showed up almost instantly with his typical "Hello Dean" and asked his charge if he needed something.

Dean merely shook his head. "I just wanted to see you."

Castiel didn't understand his reasons but noticed that Dean appeared a little preoccupied and the hunter explained that he just really wanted to see his friend after a while of not hearing from him. Castiel accepted the hunters answer and carefully sat down next to him on the bed, his hands folding in front of him. They said nothing to each other for several seconds until Dean looked over at the angel and asked him a question.

"Cas?"

"Yes Dean?"

Another eccentric moment of silence passed before he spoke up.

"You're always gonna be there when I need you right?" The look in Dean's eyes told Castiel that something was troubling the young man, and that whatever fears plagued him told him that he needed someone to turn to in case he had no one else.

"Of course I will Dean. I always will." He replied flatly.

"And you know that I'll be there for you too right?" Dean was making no expressions in his statements and his questions puzzled the angel even more, but he took it as his friend merely stating an obvious fact and nodded his head.

Dean had already proven his loyalty on a number of occasions to him. Why did he even need to question it? Castiel knew that he never let this rare side of him openly show unless he felt it necessary, the hunter always deeming these occasions as 'chick flick moments' he believed he called them.

Dean slowly let a smile cross his face and looked away as a small laugh escaped his lips.

"Good." He stared back at him, the blue orbs still looking a bit puzzled at the humans behavior. "I just wanted to make sure you knew that."

Castiel shrugged his shoulders and replied that he did, and Dean looked back down at the floor as he felt a massive wave of ambiguity roll off his body.

To Be Continued…