AN: Sorry this took so long to update. School has been crazy, and then there's been SATs and ACTs and...ugh. Life. Ya know.

Anyway, Sam and Dean's separate stories continue in this chapter, and it's all I have written up at the moment, so it might be a while yet before the next part is up. I haven't had a chance to proofread it so it there are probably a ton of typos, but I wanted to get it posted asap so I hope you'll forgive me. As always, any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Sam reacted instinctively, reaching for the duffel he'd left on the bed for the holy water inside of it. Ruby smiled and held up a metal flask with a small smile. "This what you're looking for?"

"A demon," Sam said in disgust. "You're a demon. That's how you know all that stuff—about us, about Azazel."

"Relax, Sam," Ruby said, pocketing the holy water. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm not even here for information. Like I said, I just want to talk."

"Then talk," Sam snapped. "Tell me what the hell you're doing here. And why I should trust you for even a second."

"Those powers you've got in your back pocket?" Ruby said. "You're a natural psychic, Sam. Your abilites only been lying dormant because you're scared to touch them. I can help you utilize them. You'll see, Sam, you can't just ignore them. You have to learn to control them—and you have to control the demon blood inside you too."

"Is the demon blood what's causing these visions?"

"Seems that way."

"So why should I believe you? Any of this?"

"Because I can help you save your brother," Ruby said, and Sam froze. Knowing she had his attention, knowing she'd found his weak spot, Ruby pressed on: "I'm the only one who can help you, Sam. I understand what's going on inside you. Regular psychics, they won't be able to do a thing for you. You're going to have to trust me."

"You want me to trust a demon?" Sam sneered. "Like hell. Get out of my room."

"Sam, your brother will die if you don't listen to me," Ruby said, louder, more insistent. "There are demons after him. After both of you. I can protect you from them. They want to use you, Sam. There's a—"

"And you don't want to use me?" Sam said. "What's your motive in all of this? You must want something."

She smirked. "I want insurance. And you are the best kind there is. I think if you developed your abilities you could use them to stop all the rest of those pesky demons trying to claw their ways up the hierarchy. You could be useful, Sam."

"To who? You?"

"Maybe. But like I said, there's something in it for you, too."

Dean. Sam exhaled slowly, trying to think straight. Working with demons was the last thing he wanted to do, but Ruby knew something about him that Sam didn't understand at all. Maybe…

No. He couldn't do it. He shook his head and brought his gun back up to face Ruby. "I won't do it," he said. "Now get the hell out of here."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Fine," she said. "But I'll find you again, Sam. You'll agree to let me help you eventually. We could make a good team, you know."

And with that, she was gone. Sam sat at the edge of his bed, lowering his face into his hands, and wished at that moment that he had someone at his back. How was he supposed to face all this alone?

He'd thought that it was over.


"Several deaths close by, just a state over," Bobby said, pointing on the map to indicate the trail of the killings. "Not sure what it is, but pretty sure it's something supernatural, because the police have zero leads. Might be something to check out."

"Yeah," Dean said without enthusiasm, swirling the inch of whiskey he still had in the glass in his hand. He drained it and set the glass down on Bobby's desk, gazing down at the path the older man had traced on the map.

"If you want, I could go with you," Bobby offered, but Dean shook his head.

"I guess I need to get out of here anyway," he said. He rolled his neck and sighed. "I've been cooped up here too long." He'd actually only been staying at Bobby's for a couple days, but it had felt like an eternity. Thought he wouldn't admit it, he was dying to get out.

"Right," Bobby said. "Well, here's all the information I've managed to gather on the case. Call me if you have any problems." He handed Dean a manila folder and Dean nodded, leaving the living room to find his duffel.

As Dean drove, he thought about whether it would be smart to work with someone else on a few of these cases at some point or another. Not that he'd had any problems in particular lately, but hunting on his own wasn't the most enjoyable thing.

But that wasn't why he did it. He did the job because he had to, because it was something to do, because someone had to do it, and it might as well be him. Because it was all he know how to do.

And in that way, sometimes he envied Sam for being able to leave the job so easily, for believing there was more out there, for going out and seeking it. He wouldn't have been able to go to college or start a stable relationship or…

It wasn't like he hadn't tried. School hadn't been his thing. Every relationship he'd had had ended in disaster. Hunting was all he had left. Especially now.

Rochester, Minnesota, was quiet and dark when Dean arrived a few hours later, pulling into the nearest motel. He figured this case would be quick, and then he could move on, find something else further away, get lost in the repetition once again.

He hadn't expected the case to be a hell of a lot more complicated than it had originally seemed.


Cara tossed her phone into her bag and slung it over her shoulder, grabbing her keys off the surface of the bar. The restaurant was dark and practically empty, and she was more than ready to get home. She hadn't eaten practically all day, and her stomach was cramping painfully.

She was heading to the door when it swung open directly in front of her and a girl fairly flew inside, startling Cara, who froze, blinking in surprise.

"Cara," the girl said. "I—um—"

"Hey. Alex." Cara frowned at her friend, recognizing a look of fear—no, terror—on Alex's face. She knew immediately that something was wrong. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Alex stared at Cara through wide eyes, breathing heavily, and then brushed back her long blond hair, clearly trying to compose herself. "I, um, I just…" She smiled faintly, though her eyes still shone with worry. "Sorry. Didn't mean to freak you out. I'm okay."

Cara folded her arms. "C'mon, Alex, you busted in here like the devil is on your tail. What's goin' on?"

"It's probably nothing," she replied hesitantly. She glanced over her shoulder at the door and hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. "I was just headed home. Are you free to leave yet?"

"Yeah. Come on, we'll go together." Cara frowned in concern as she took her friend's arm, leading her outside. Alex had the tendency to get emotional about things, but she was almost constantly cheerful and never acted scared this way.

Alex continued to look over her shoulder every five seconds as they made their way along the darkened streets of the city toward the apartment building they both lived in. She jumped at every loud noise, stuck close to Cara's side and kept her arms crossed tightly across her chest as if attempting to make herself smaller.

"Alex, is someone following you?" Cara asked as they made their way home. "Because if someone tried to hurt you, I swear to god—"

"Cara, please don't go all homicidal," Alex said with a nervous laugh. "I'm fine, really. I just…" She shook her head. "I thought I saw something. Something strange. But I must've been wrong." She fell silent, but Cara thought she heard Alex murmur something under her breath like "I must be going crazy."

I must be going crazy.

Screaming. Blood. Laughter. Fire.

Crazy. Crazy.

Cara shook her head, dislodging a clump of hair that swung in front of her face, and squeezed her friend's arm. "You wanna stay with me for tonight? It might make you feel safer."

"No, no, it's all right," Alex said, quiet enough so it was almost under her breath. Her bright eyes scoured the dark corners of the street, flickering quickly from one point to the next. Worry tightened at the pit of Cara's stomach.

They parted ways at the second floor of the apartment building, and Cara fixed her eyes on Alex's. "Are you sure you're going to be all right? I can stay with you if—"

"I'm okay. Thanks for walking home with me." She waved goodbye and unlocked her door before stepping inside, smiling, and shutting Cara out. She heard the lock click and chewed on her lip, leaving only with great reluctance.

Cara awoke the following morning with the warm knowledge that Sam would be back that day and returning to work. It had only been a couple of days but it hadn't been the same without him—she liked having his warm smile flashing beside her while she did her job.

Although, every time she saw him smile she thought it had a tinge of sadness to it, something she couldn't quite place but wanted to understand. If only he wasn't so damn closed off.

Cara headed for Alex's apartment that morning with two cups of coffee in hand, wanting to make sure her friend was all right after the previous night. She knocked on apartment 34A, calling through the door: "Hey, Lexi! You planning on sleeping the whole day?"

No answer from inside. Cara frowned, noticing that the wood at the edge of the door, near the lock, was cracked and torn, and the door was ajar, just slightly. Pushing on the wood, the door slid open slightly, and Cara held her breath, fear pooling in her stomach, hard and cold.

She made her way inside slowly, looking around, not wanting to know if something had happened to her friend.

She couldn't have been prepared for what she finally did find, and a she dropped her cups of coffee, hands flying to her mouth as a scream tore its way from her mouth.

Blood. Fire. Screaming. Pleading. Dying.

Alex lay still on her couch, which was soaked in blood from the gaping wound in her chest.


"Did you hear anything strange coming from her apartment?"

"No…no, I don't think so."

"You said she was acting anxious before, while you were walking home. Did she tell you what she was worried about?"

"She didn't tell me much. She said she wasn't thinking straight."

"Had she been drinking?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

Cara's eyes flickered past the yellow tape blocking off Alex's apartment, over to the blood on the couch. Her stomach turned, and she looked away. She faced the officer again and tried to continue answering the woman's questions, but all she really wanted to do was curl up under some blankets and cry. Or maybe sleep. She'd just lost one of her best friends, and she couldn't get the image of her body out of her head.

She closed her eyes, wondering if she was going to throw up again, as she'd already done twice several hours ago. But as she was considering bolting for the bathroom, just for an excuse to stop talking to the police, a familiar voice spoke from behind her. "Cara?"

She whirled around while the officer was midsentence. "Sam!"

His eyes were soft and concerned and made Cara feel a thousand times better almost instantly. He approached her and clasped her shoulder. "God, Cara, are you all right?" he said. "I heard about what happened, about Alex, I came right over…"

"Yeah, I um…" Along with making her feel comforted, Sam's presence was making her want to burrow into his chest and cry until she forgot about all of this shit. "I'm okay," she said, and her voice broke. She smiled weakly to try and cover it up, but clearly he wasn't buying it.

"You want to go upstairs and talk?" he asked.

He made them both cups of coffee and they sat on Cara's couch, for a while in silence. However, after draining half her mug, Cara began to talk, as though she couldn't help it. She told him about how she'd found her friend, how she knew something was wrong but hadn't done anything to stop it, how she had no family left and had just lost one of the few close friends she'd kept.

All of a sudden she felt so completely, utterly alone. And helpless. She'd tried to become stronger, to fend for herself, but she couldn't even protect the people that mattered. She wanted to keep those people close. But it wasn't working.

"You know," Sam said once she was finished, "I, uh…I lost my dad recently."

Her eyes flew to his face and stayed there, searching. He'd never really talked about his father before.

Sam was surprised he was mentioning this at all. Where his family was concerned, if he slipped up at all, this girl would be running from him, screaming. If she knew that he was the reason his father was dead…

But he kept talking. "I know what it's like to lose someone important," he said. "To have only a few people you can really count on. I never even knew my mother, she died in a house fire when I was just a baby."

"The same fire your brother pulled you out of?" she murmured.

"Yeah. My brother…" Sam laughed shortly, setting his cup down on the coffee table. "My girlfriend passed away too, just recently, so he's all I got left. And we're not even speaking to each other."

"That's…god." Suddenly Cara's pain seemed to dwindle in comparison. Sam had lost nearly everyone that mattered to him and he was all alone. And his girlfriend—no wonder he'd been so closed off towards her.

Sam smiled wanly at her. "It's okay," he said. "You can get past these things, you know. You can't let them beat you."

"Don't I know it," Cara said, raising her eyebrows. "Damn, I've tried my whole life to be strong enough to be on my own, because as tight as I hold onto the people I care about, they all seem to…" She shook her head. "Sorry. I don't know why I'm talking about this bullshit."

"It's not bullshit," Sam said. "I'm here for you, Cara. Seriously."

Cara opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment, to break some of the tension, but the tears were suddenly welling up beyond her control, and as they spilled over she moved across the couch to lean against Sam's shoulder.

To her surprise, he slid his arm around her, pulling her closer. So she pressed against his chest, hiding her face in his shirt, and let herself cry. She felt warmth inside her just knowing that there was someone willing to be close to her. That there was someone to hold on to.


Sam knew there was something off about Alex Serville's death, and his suspicions were confirmed once he spoke to the police. Alex's heart had been torn out of her chest, and, as he found out later, a man had died in the exact same way, a couple blocks away.

Sam wanted to punch something when he found this out. He knew exactly what was killing these people, and he knew exactly how to kill it.

But he didn't want to.

He wanted to leave this hunt alone, maybe call Bobby and have him put some other hunter on the case, make someone else do it, because he didn't want to have to deal with a werewolf on top of everything else.

His meeting with the demon, Ruby, hadn't left his mind once since leaving Lawrence. And as his headaches became more frequent, his nightmares more vivid, he wanted to give him and let her teach him how to control this. Because if it was true, and had demon blood inside of him…

It made him all the more desperate to get away from this life—the life that made him different, a freak, a monster…the life that seemed to catch up with him no matter where he ran.

So no, with all the other turmoil plaguing him, he had no desire to find and kill a werewolf. But what worried him was that this monster would come after Cara next, and he couldn't let that happen.

So at this point, he figured he didn't have another choice.

He had to get his hands on some silver bullets, though, first…and he needed to figure out who the werewolf was in the first place. He had to do it while protecting Cara, while keeping her in the dark, and keeping those dreams at bay as well…

"Sam?"

Sam looked up, realizing he'd been zoning out while he was supposed to be cleaning tables. The manager of the restaurant, Jeremy Stones, was frowning at him, standing across the table.

"Sorry," Sam said, straightening. "How can I help you, Mr. Stones?"

Jeremy, a late-thirties, dark-skinned man with a round face and broad shoulders, gave Sam a wry smile and understanding seemed to glint in his eyes. "Everyone's kind of distracted lately," he said. "What with all these murders happening in the neighborhood." He laughed without humor. "Never thought I'd have to say something like that."

Sam smiled back just as dryly. "I know what you mean. It sucks, especially for…" He glanced over at Cara and trailed off.

"I wish I didn't have to watch her go through this again," Jeremy murmured. "Especially, after, you know…her family."

Sam's eyes flickered back to the manager. "What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

Jeremy shrugged. "Well, you know she has no family left, right? They all died in a house fire when she was little. She barely escaped, but she lost everyone. Everything. Lived in multiple different foster homes until she turned eighteen and could be on her own." He noticed Sam's shocked expression and frowned. "She told you all this, didn't she?"

"Uh…yeah," Sam said. "Yeah, a little, I just…" He swallowed, thinking about his father's death and how he knew what it was like to lose everything to fire. Everything except…

He pushed away the thought and turned back to Jeremy. "Well, anyway, we're opening in an hour. Is there anything else you needed to talk about?"

"No, I suppose not. Keep on, Sam." He clapped Sam on the shoulder briefly before leaving him be and approaching Cara instead. Sam watched them out of the corner of his eye, watched as Cara smiled brightly at Jeremy, as Jeremy said something to her and she burst out laughing. Sam was struck by how beautiful she looked when she was laughing.

Jeremy touched her shoulder and Sam looked away, feeling as though he was intruding and attempting to kick away the odd twinge of jealousy he suddenly felt. He had no reason to feel that way.

Cara glanced at Sam over Jeremy's shoulder and saw the little crease between his eyebrows that told her he was thinking hard about something. She wondered what was on his mind that had him so distracted that he was wiping the same place on the table over and over.

"Uh…Cara? You listening to me?"

"What?" She quickly returned her gaze to Jeremy's dark eyes. "Sorry."

He grinned and chuckled. "Nobody seems to be able to pay attention to me today. I just asked you if you'd like to go out for a drink tonight."

Cara blinked. It struck her that maybe she should have expected this, but for the moment she found herself speechless. She floundered for an answer while Jeremy continued to smile at her, pleasantly but slightly amused.

"Um…tonight?" Cara said finally.

Jeremy arched one eyebrow and nodded. "Yes, you know…evening, after dark, by moonlight, under the stars, whatever you wish to call it?"

Despite herself Cara cracked a grin. "Yeah, why not? I've got nothing else better to do tonight."

"Good enough for me." Jeremy grinned briefly and then turned away, leaving the confines of the bar and then heading for the back exit. As Cara went back to work the smile slid from her face, but the warm glow remained for a brief time.

Unfortunately, the night was not what she'd intended it to be.


"Thanks for your time," Dean said with a smile, waving as he made his way back towards his car. Having interviewed the family of the most recent victim, he only felt more frustrated and more confused, because he'd just ruled out the third and last hunch he'd had regarding the case.

Sighing in irritation, he got into the Impala and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Bobby's number.

"What now?" the gruff, equally irritated voice came over the phone and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Don't be such a grouch. You're the one who put me on this case."

"'Cause I thought ya could handle something this simple. What's going on now?"

"Well, it's not a spirit, and it's not a werewolf, and it's not a demon. Whatever did it is solid, hearts aren't missing, and there's been no sulfur. So what the hell am I supposed to do now?"

"Well first of all, tell me everything you've found out."

Dean relayed the information that had been given to him by the people he'd interviewed. None of it was particularly helpful, nor particularly enlightening. Bobby was quiet for a long while once Dean was finished speaking, and Dean could hear the rustling of books and pages as Bobby searched for something to help.

"It's some kind of monster," Bobby said finally. "You said the victims were shredded?"

"Yeah. Completely. No break-in, no sulfur or ectoplasm or indication of anything. I'm out of options here, Bobby."

"Any idea where it's going to strike next?"

"Maybe." Dean rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Whatever it is, it seems to be going through members of the same family. It started with this kid, then went for his mother, then the mother's sister…" His fingers raked through his hair. "There's still the father, he works at a bar downtown."

"Well, start there. I'll do a little more research, see what I can dig up. Call you back if I find anything."

"Right." Dean shut off his phone and pocketed it, glancing for the millionth time over at the passenger's seat, wishing he had someone with him who knew how to correctly interpret all this crap, because he was totally lost.

He sighed and shook his head, bringing the impala to life and feeling comforted by its familiar growl. He made his way to the bar, where he spent the good part of the evening, drinking and ignoring the frustration now plaguing him from multiple sources.

"Rough day?" the bartender asked him, pouring him another shot of whiskey. He was a middle-aged man with crinkles around the eyes and a warm smile underneath a bushy beard.

"You could say that," Dean said. He threw back the whiskey and closed his eyes as the alcohol burned down his throat.

"Work or love life?"

"Work, I guess you could say." Dean scratched the back of his neck. "Just a little…stuck. S'nothing important."

"I can relate," another voice said, and Dean turned his head to see another man sitting next to him. He was somewhat skinny, with thick, messy brown hair, but his arms were muscled and there was a stubble on his chin that gave him a rugged kind of look. He smiled wanly at Dean. "Been working on this one thing for ages, but this one guy he…well, he bit the dust. Left all the work to the rest of us."

Dean blinked in surprise at the nonchalance with which this man had just mentioned his coworker's death. "I'm, uh…sorry."

The man shrugged. "Not a big deal, really. We weren't close, he was just pretty essential to the, er, project." The corner of his mouth turned up. "You interested in venting?"

"Don't know if my problems are quite up to par with yours," Dean said, turning back to his drink. He traced his finger along the rim of the glass. "Just hit a dead end with work. And my partner is…well, I'm running it alone right now. So it hasn't been easy."

The man gave a grunt of sympathy, taking a long drink of his beer. They were both silent for a moment, before the man turned to look at Dean and said, "Oh, I almost forgot." He held out one hand. "Jason."

"Dean." Dean shook the man's hand with only a slight amount of reluctance. He got a weird vibe off this guy, and it wasn't just the fact that he grasped Dean's hand for a couple seconds longer than was normal. Dean turned back to his whiskey, tossing back another shot.

He and Jason talked for a while longer, about mostly frivolous things, until it was late and Dean decided to call it a night. He'd considered trying to pick a girl up and had been eyeing a curvy blonde waitress, but the case wouldn't stop popping into his head, and eventually he had to admit that he was just too tired. So he went back to his motel, where he spent an hour trying to research and then eight hours sleeping.

He didn't let his hand stray anywhere near his phone the whole night.


"Can I walk you home?"

"No, that's all right."

"Come on, Cara, let me. It's late, I just want to make sure you are safe."

Cara smiled at Jeremy and crossed her arms over her chest as a cool wind blew down the street. They'd just left dinner and he was right—it was late, and dark, and walking home alone didn't have much appeal. "All right."

He returned the smile and the three of them made their way down the near-empty, darkened streets, silent. Cara shivered in the cold, but the chills that ran up her arms had less to do with the cold and more, it seemed, to do with an odd feeling of trepidation.

She had no reason to feel uncomfortable. Jeremy had been a complete and utter gentleman all night and she'd had a great time. He was very funny and intelligent, and though she'd been uncertain before she was glad she'd agreed to go on a date with him. But…

She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye and shivered again. Damn, what was wrong with her?

She jumped involuntarily when he took hold of her elbow, guiding her down an alleyway between two tall buildings. "Here. This way."

"What? Why?"

"Shortcut." She frowned but let herself be pulled down the alley, surprised when Jeremy didn't release her arm. He picked up the pace until he was practically dragging her, and then, before reaching the street, stopped.

Cara nearly bumped into him. The feeling of unease increased. "Jeremy? What are you—?"

In a move so abrupt and swift Cara had no time to react, Jeremy had her pinned to the wall, his arm pressed against her neck, his face inches from hers. Her eyes widened and she gasped in a breath, heart pounding fear into her throat.

"Jeremy, what the hell are you—?"

He covered her mouth with his other hand, and only then did the thought of screaming occur to her. She struggled, but damn he was strong, much too strong, far stronger than he looked—

"Got you right where I want you," he whispered, the corner of his mouth turning up in a sneer. "Just…like…your little friend Alex."

Her heart seemed to skip a beat. Alex.

"That's right." His hand moved from her mouth to trace along her chin. "Not what you expected, is it?"

Oh God. I should have seen this coming. I should have known.

"What did you do to her?" Cara choked.

The smirk widened. Jeremy suddenly looked nothing like himself, with his cruel expression and angry eyes and…oh god…

"Help!" Cara shrieked, finally regaining her senses, but his hand clamped over her mouth again, smothering her cry.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to try anything," he said. "I just want your heart."

He raised his hand, his nails curling out into claws.