Nope, neither show is in my possession. Damn.

And yes, still re-updating.

SN/CSI: NY

Mac had told the Winchesters they could only keep up their FBI façade to strangers, he also told them to inform his team that they were "experts" on this type of case; the supernatural stuff was not necessary. In addition, he made them tell his team their names, against Dean's will, and he introduced the others. He started with Sheldon.

"This is Sheldon Hawks," he introduced them to a dark skinned, black haired, brown eyed man. Sheldon shook hands with Sam and Dean.

"Nice to meet you," Sheldon said politely. Sam nodded and Dean grunted. Mac moved onto the brunette that caught Dean's eye. "This is Lindsay Monroe," Mac said.

"It's always a pleasure to meet a pretty lady such as yourself," Dean said smoothly shaking Lindsay's hand. She blushed, Sam rolled his eyes, and Danny cleared his throat.

"I'm Sam," Sam said lightly pushing Dean to the side. He really didn't want to see his brother and the bespectacled male in a fight. He quickly shook Lindsay's hand and continued down the line.

"This is Danny Messer," Mac said cautiously. Dean and Danny had a mini face-off as they shook each others hands. Sam could tell each one was trying to break the other's hand. It was a tense moment before Danny let go. Sam could see his brother silently congratulating himself on the win. Competitive bastard, he thought rolling his eyes again.

"Stella and Flack aren't here, but you'll meet them later," Mac continued as if nothing happened. "These two are the experts. The FBI is not going to be able to help us with this case. They will…"

"Wait, so they aren't FBI agents," Danny said slowly and glanced at Hawks' triumphant look. The doc had called it clear out of the sky.

"We're freaking better," Dean muttered under his breath. Sam knew his brother prided himself on thinking he was above the law. Lord knows he's been in so many situations with cops that Sam was surprised his brother hadn't been carted off to prison for the rest of his life.

"No, but they will be a lot more help. What's going on here is worse than we thought," Mac cut in before Danny could respond to Dean's comment.

"What's going on?" Lindsay asked curiously eyeing her superior worriedly.

"That's not important. What's important is if these boys can take care of it then we don't have to worry about it," Mac replied evasively and turned to the Winchesters, "I guess I'd better show you two the bodies."

"That would be great," Sam said quickly, interrupting Dean's response. Sam loved his brother, would do anything for him, but he would also be the first to admit that ninety percent of what his brother said was rude. Their dad had never taught them manners, Sam picking his up from people he'd come across over the years, and Dean took all of their dad's lessons to heart. It could be embarrassing when an almost twenty-eight year old man made rude noises at the table while eating, in a public diner no doubt, but Mac seemed like an okay guy and Sam didn't want to be thrown in jail or anything.

Dean glared at his brother's interruption but bit his tongue. Sam could tell his brother wasn't happy with the situation. He hadn't planned to be made so quickly, or have someone know them that they didn't know, but they were. Dean just had to get over it. Acts like he's six half the time anyway, Sam thought as they followed Mac out of his office.

"So, that Lindsay girl…? Dean started the moment they were in the elevator.

"…is dating Danny, so she's off limits," Mac replied without looking at Dean. Sam could see the older guy grin in his peripheral vision and couldn't help smiling, too. Dean merely crossed his arms and, no better word for it, sulked in the corner.

When they reached the morgue Sid greeted them with a small wave. A gray haired man with glasses, Sid was the lead ME of the crime lab.

"Dean, Sam this is Sid," Mac introduced quickly and crossed the room.

"I'd shake your hands, but mine are quite busy," Sid said slowly as he held up a severed arm. Sam cringed while Dean merely glanced at it. Sam knew, even behind his brother's uninterested façade that Dean wanted to know what happened. Curiosity killed the cat and would probably one day kill Dean Winchester, Sam thought wearily.

"Smashed in between a big rig," Sid explained answering the unasked question obviously on Sam's face; John had taught Dean to hide his emotions too well. "The body's over there if you want to see it."

"No thanks," the Winchesters said together. They hurried past Sid, joining up with Mac by the morgue slates. He pulled one out, at the very top, and pulled the sheet off the body. Sam didn't wince that time, but it took a lot of will power.

"Holy crap," Dean muttered. The body was in pieces, something they had seen before but still weren't used to. There was some hair, brown, where the head should be. Organs-aren't those things supposed to be on the inside, Sam thought-were in an array on the table. Sam could see an arm, a piece of a leg, and what looked like half a skull. He couldn't believe something, even a vampire, could do that; no matter how many times he'd seen it.

"So, what the hell is doing this?" Mac whispered pushing the slate back into the wall. He closed the door and turned to look at the brothers. They exchanged yet another glance, actually lost for an answer. They actually thought the bodies would be intact, maybe a few pieces missing, but that body was just a disaster. Whoever that girl, or maybe a guy, was their family would probably not be able to ID them.

"It could be many things. We thought it was a vampire," Sam replied quietly. "But now…"

"Now what?" Mac asked his eyes flicking back and forth between the guys.

"Now, we don't know," Dean finished for his brother, a grim expression on his face.

SN/CSI: NY

Shelly Miles locked up her shop tightly, the rush hour having just left and the sun just setting. She wasn't prone to closing her book store early, but her son had a doctor's appointment and she had to pick him up from her mother's house.

She stretched he arms above her head, purse whacking her in the skull, and headed down the block. She was always forced to park a good two blocks from her store, apartment live-ins and other business owners taking the spots she wanted. She was a good yard from her shop when she felt, more than heard, someone following her. She sped up slightly, already thinking of the mugger that could be following her.

Her car was in sight, the green Neon basked in a streetlight, when she was tackled from behind. She was spun around, her back digging into her purse, a pale man standing above her.

"Are you going to scream for me?" he asked sniffing her neck. She let loose a shrilly wail that was cut off sharply by fangs digging into her throat; it was the last thing she felt.

SN/CSI: NY

Dean was having a good dream, one that involved throwing Danny out a twenty story window and Lindsay claiming it was the best thing he could have done. They were inches from kissing when a banging yanked him out of his dream.

"Who the fuck is that," he muttered rolling out of bed. Sam, clearly out cold, merely mumbled, "Dean, someonesatthedoor," before rolling over. Dean snorted, wishing he had his phone to get a picture. Shaking his head, he pulled the door open and felt his good mood fester. Danny was standing in the doorway, wearing a mildly suspicious, mildly irritated look.

"Mac wanted me to come get you two, there's been another murder," Danny replied emotionlessly.

"Give us ten minutes," Dean replied and shut the door in Danny's face. Take that four-eyes, he thought with a smirk. He crossed the room to his brother's bed, hitting his foot, "Sammy, get up, we've gotta go."

"Idon'twannago," Sam got out and rolled over again.

"Fine." Dean walked to the side of the bed, grabbed the mattress, and flipped it over. Sam tumbled onto the floor, getting tangled in his blankets. Dean laughed as he pulled a pair of jeans off the back of a chair and yanked them on.

"Dude, you're a frigging jerk," Sam exclaimed untangling himself. He got to his feet, glaring daggers at his brother. Dean merely shrugged as he threw on a flannel shirt. He was pulling on his boots when his brother finally started getting dressed.

"You're slow, Sammy," Dean commented lacing up his right boot. He was on his feet in seconds, crossing the room to put the mattress back on Sam's bed.

"I was just flipped off my bed; I could have broken bones…"

"If you don't hurry your ass up you will have broken bones," Dean snapped and headed toward the door. His keys jingled in his pocket, along with three dollars in change. He had to remember to stop at a Laundromat sometime soon. He opened the door to see Danny leaning against the wall, watching the traffic from the balcony.

"People are gonna think you're a crazy stalker if you keep standing there," Dean commented leaning against the balcony railing. Danny glared at him but didn't say a word. The two men stood in silence for a good two minutes before Sam finally exited the room. He closed the door behind him, making sure it was locked.

"Electric keys, Sammy. You don't need to lock it."

"I'm not talking to you," Sam responded and headed down the short hall, toward a set of stairs. Danny smirked at the disgruntled look on Dean's face and quickly followed Sam. Dean sneered at the retreating backs of the CSI and Sam and started after them.

They arrived at the Impala in seconds, Danny letting out a low whistle. Dean could tell, even if Danny didn't particularly like him, that the CSI liked his car.

"'67, Impala; man, my neighbor had a red one back in the day. Where did you get one of these?" Danny's eyes ran over the midnight black car, impressed by the sheer sight of it.

"My dad," Dean replied smugly. "Rebuilt it myself a few months ago; it's in mint condition, runs like a god, and is my pride and joy."

"I drive a bike," Danny said pointing at his motorcycle in the last parking spot.

"Do you want to ride to the crime scene with us," Sam asked before Dean could do or say anything. He was planning to say "Enjoy the cold" and drive off. Sam you suck, he thought glaring at his brother's innocent looking face; Dean could see the smile hidden in his eyes. Hold that damn smirk in, you asshole.

"I don't want to intrude…"

"No, I insist. Dean would really appreciate the company." You're pushing it Sammy, Dean thought bitterly. He tried his best to smile, his jaw feeling like it was glued together, and said, "Sure, why not."

"Okay, I'll be right back." Danny ran toward his bike-Probably checking his make-up, Dean thought letting out an annoyed breath-and then returned in seconds.

"Can we go?" Dean asked trying and failing to hide his frustration.

"I don't see why you need my permission to drive your car," Danny retorted smugly, getting in the back of the car.

"I don't see why you need my permission to drive your car," Dean mimicked under his breath. He was really starting to hate Danny Messer.