1"She couldn't have gotten very far." Dean explained to the priest. "Just... just give me a few hours to go out and find her. I promise you, we'll get her back here for the ceremony." The priest turned away and muttered to himself.

"Sorry bastard."

"Excuse me?" Asked Dean. The priest waved him off with a hand and lithely made his way back up to the altar, escorted by the two altar boys. Dean and Sam exited through the front of the church and walked out to the sidewalk, and followed it off to the right. They passed a few apartment complexes, a run-down restaurant and a used car lot, but found no sign of Blair. Dean stopped for a minute to catch his breath and struggle out of the black jacket, slinging it over his shoulder and rolled up his sleeves past his elbows.

The sun was beginning to set; she had been gone for over 5 hours now, and both boys were exhausted. As Dean took a step forward onto the blackened pavement of a driveway, something crunched beneath his shoe. He stepped aside and looked down, his eye catching on Blair's black stone choker that he had bought her last month. The beads were mashed into the pavement, and stone pieces littered the area around it. Sam picked it up and held it delicately on his finger. The driveway led to a large cemetery down a hill, littered with crooked trees and zigzagging pathways. A large, towering, medieval looking building perched at the center of the graveyard, loomed over the rod iron fence running it's distance around the cemetery. The sign just outside the gates read St. Joseph's Holy Cemetery.

"She probably would've stopped down here. Jimmy and Mr. Morlock were buried in the row behind the mausoleum." The two boys sprinted down the hill to the back of the mausoleum, stopping at the Morlock graves. On the top of Jimmy's headstone sat Blair's black rose corsage, the petals drooping and drifting in the slight wind. Dean stopped for a moment and glanced at Jimmy's epitaph, which read, "Jimmy Morlock. He shall live forever in eternity and experience the afterlife at the right hand of God. January 17th, 1999 to November 21st, 2006." Dean scooped up the drooping rose and tugged off three of the wilting petals, scattering them on the ground.

"Dean."

"Yeah?" Sam shoved his hands in his pants pockets and approached his brother. "Any chance she wandered off down into the mausoleum? She is pretty damn curious."

"Wouldn't doubt it, really."

"Aren't they usually locked up though at this time of day?"

"The cemetery keeper probably hasn't come to close up yet. It's only 5:30. Let's get down and out as quick as possible." They made their way to the front and swung open the rod iron gate. A set of stairs led down into the dark interior, and at a certain point seemed to disappear.

"Ladies first." Sam pushed Dean ahead of him and they descended the staircase, their boots hitting the cold, colorless pavement of the stairs. Dean shivered as a cold breeze erupted from the stone door ahead of them as he pushed it open and blindly walked into the dankly lit room. A couple torches dimly lit the first room and the light played against the shimmering wooden tops of the caskets. Dean counted 20. Oddly enough, the stench of dead bodies wasn't all that prominent. It smelled more like Opium, and incense more than anything else.

"You smell that?"

"Yeah. Someone had to be down here with incense or drugs or something." Dean shoved his hands in the pocket of his slacks and approached the first coffin. The inscription on the wall behind it read, "Laura Iles. May she rest in peace. March 21st, 1987 to April 15th, 2007." Dean ran his fingers over the small bundle of fabrics bursting from the seam where the coffin door met the case itself. Curiosity got the best of him and he undid the latch, and flung the panel of the coffin back to reveal her body. Even with the work of the mortician, Laura's body was in a grisly condition. Her face was twisted into a grotesque looking snarl and her cheeks were gaunt and hallow. Her left arm was cut off at the elbow, and the rotted flesh had begun to grow mossy. Laura's dead lips were a lifeless grey, speckles of red lipstick flaking from the pale skin. The thin legs protruding from her short skirt were shabbily disfigured; twisted and gnarled, bone sticking through the flesh. Dean cringed and closed the lid.

"Ugh. I can't believe people are crazy enough to be necrophiliacs."

"Dean... that's sick."

"I'm not condoning their actions, I'm saying it's gross!"

"But you didn't have to bring it up."

"Oh, piss off, Sammy." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Can we just hurry this up?" Dean raised an eyebrow and turned to his brother, shoving his curious hands back into his pockets.

"What? You kinda creeped out, Sammy?" Sam scratched his nose and threw up his arm in frustration.

"So what if I am? Dude, dead people give me the creeps. It's a common phobia of many NORMAL people, Dean."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure. Look 'normal' up in the dictionary and under the definition is a picture of you labeled A.K.A. pussy." They passed up 18 more coffins and merged to the left down a narrow, absolutely pitch black passageway. As the lighted room faded into the darkness of the tunnel and Sam and Dean continued on to the next cavern-like den, a sickening crack echoed in the domed, dimly lit first chamber as the lid of Laura Ile's coffin rocked back on the rusty hinges for a moment, then broke into two, hitting the pavement block below. Stiff, sandy ligaments cracked and tensed in the corpses rotting, deformed body and it's head and neck jerked sickly as it attempted to move. It's decaying fingers and toes became animated, twitching at the slightest creak of it's hollow bones. A puff of dust erupted from the corpse's orifices as it sat up in it's coffin and turned it's head in the direction of the fading footsteps. It grinned, it's jaws creaking and popping .