This Ain't a Monster Mash


They arrived at the edge of the cemetery where their mother is 'buried' on a sunny day not too long after they let those four Vampires go.

Dean doesn't want to go, but Sam does.

And Sam is still dealing with everything that Dean dumped on him, so Dean feels a little like he deserves it.

So they go.

It's how things seem to be now. Sam leading, Dean following. It makes Dean squirm at how comfortable he feels with this kind of deal, but he promises himself it wouldn't be forever. Once Dean gets a handle on everything with the curse, that will change. He knows it will. He's a leader, not a follower, but he's letting Sam take the lead on these cases because its... well, it's smart. And Dean rarely does the smart thing.

But fear of the consequences of his actions, his actions as a beast, that kept him on the straight and narrow.

"This is stupid," Dean still says, knowing that it won't change anything.

"So you've said," Sam scoffed. "Like, twenty times."

"And I'll say it again, this is stupid."

Dean enunciated clearly.

"Why?" Sam asked, "Why is it stupid?"

"Mom's grave? Seriously, Sam?" Dean scoffed but dutifully drove. "She doesn't even have a grave - there, there was no body left after the fire!"

Sam was a silent for a moment after that before replying sullenly, "She has a headstone."

"And? Still a slab of granite put up by a stranger!"

A strange uncle they had never met before. Who Dean still had no desire to meet, either.

"That's not the point, Dean."

"Then what is?" Dean snipped, making an aggravated hand motion. "Enlighten me."

"It's not about a body, or, or, a casket. It's about her memory, okay?"

Dean could smell that Sam was actually a little upset by his nonchalance with the whole thing, so he kept his mouth shut. He hmm'ed, to show he had heard, but didn't respond otherwise.

Sam didn't let up.

"Just, listen Dean, after Dad... it feels like the right thing to do."

Feels like the right thing to do. Dean felt something within him snarl. He so hated that sentence. Hated that Sam used it so often as of late. Dean didn't get it. It was all sorts of irrational, but hey - what did he know about rational? He sniffed people, he transformed into a dog, he let a bunch of Vampires go when he should have stabbed and beheaded them. Hell, at this point, he wouldn't be surprised if an angel came down from heaven and slapped him.

... Alright, fine that would surprise him. Momentarily. He'd roll with the punches on that one.

"You don't have to come." Sam reminded Dean.

"I just don't think it's the best use of our time," Dean admitted. "We haven't heard anything on the demon lately..."

"And we can't do anything about that until Ash lets us know what he finds."

Damnit. Sam was right.

Dean's fingers tapped a beat on the wheel. He could just leave Sam at the cemetery. Everything inside of him did not appreciate that thought, but it was a thought. Plus, Sam was an adult. He could... he could defend himself. He wasn't a kid anymore.

So why was the very thought of leaving Sam for any amount of time painful for him to contemplate?

Fine. Alright so that option was out due to random familiar 'feelings'.

"Just... don't be long." Dean finally conceded.

He may have told Sam about their not-witch-bond, the whole consent issue, and that he was his person , but Sam was still in the dark on what the hell that even meant. He didn't know how Dean felt, didn't have any idea about how close that worked together with their 'bond' not bond.


Sam was over by the headstone, kneeling and digging. The jingling in his pocket was their father's dog tags.

Dean snorted in his doggy form, unwilling to go anywhere near the 'final resting place' of his mother. What a load of hoo-ey. There hadn't been anything left of their mother to bury. It was just an illusion. Shaking his head, Dean trotted off to explore. He didn't need to be around Sam when he was mopey, and as long as he could hear his heartbeat, Dean wasn't too worried.

That was why he could wander. Just... not far.

He was going east when the wind changed and something subtle tickled his nose.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks.

:What was that? : Dean ask himself as he sniffed deeply, but the wind had changed again. He followed the direction the wind had come from. North. North East. As he started walking he kept his nose ready. All he smelled at the moment was mud, leaves, natural dead things.

The wind turned slightly again and this time the smell stuck.

It was a sickly sweet dead smell. Like rotten apples sitting on the ground too long. Yet there was an under-smell to it that Dean couldn't pinpoint. He had never smelled anything like it. It smelled a touch like magic, like that spark of electricity, but it was too heavy, too... long standing. It echoed instead of zapped.

He saw a symptom of the smell as he neared a giant tree.

Dean had smelled a number of things. Dead people, alive people, mold, blood, sweat, tears, pheromones... This was a new one. It was... it was pleasant to Dean's dog brain, but he knew it shouldn't be. Pleasant to dog brain meant weak, easy prey, or easy to hunt.

Which meant - what? The tree was... weak?

Dean realized as he came closer, looked at the dead leaves, the trees cracking bark, that the tree was weak. Sick. Coming closer, he made sure to remember this scent. Later he would try and remember smelling any people with this scent. It would be a useful skill to have, smelling out sick people. Hurt people.

As he was sniffing, he realized something else was wrong with the tree. Checking the area, Dean transformed, he fingered his collar as he walked - a nervous habit. He walked around the tree, felt the bark, sniffed higher up on the tree, and then knocked.

Huh .

It was hollow. A big tree like this... hollow? It would have had to been sick for a while. As he walked around the tree, he saw something by the graves that caught his eye. Two or three meters in diameter there was a giant dead patch of grass over one of the graves.

Thoroughly bamboozled Dean transformed again. The smell of the grass matched the tree, a little different, smaller but more of a punch because of the diameter. Both the tree and the grass were being ail'd by the same thing.

As a human, Dean would have assumed demonic presence immediately. Perhaps spirit, but definitely wrong . If something evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground. Dean remembered the farm outside of Cedar Rapids. That scene had not been pretty, nor had the monster that had come from that hell hole.

Based on this evidence... well, he needed to ask some questions.

:I'll be back, Sam, : Dean told his brother, and transformed, making sure to stuff his collar into his coat pocket before he met with any impressionable humans.

"What was that about?" Sam asked as Dean finished talking with the groundskeeper.

"I go where my nose goes," Dean said, as he read over the card. "Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college; funeral was three days ago. "

"Your nose lead you to... the grave a of a dead girl?"

"Yup," Dean sid cheerfully. The thrill of the hunt in his bones, in his veins . His blood was singing! "I found a dead tree and and a circle of dead grass in a perfect circle," Sam raised a brow. "Come on, I'll show you."

It wasn't a far walk.

"That's... that's a pretty perfect circle." Sam said, as he crouched to look at the grave. "Angela mason, huh? You sure it's not pesticides?"

"Nope," Dean said with a smile. "The groundskeeper said they're o' naturale here. They're pretty big on that."

No clue why, the people were already dead.

"Alright, I see it," Sam nodded. "What are you thinking?"

"Unholy ground?"

It was his first thought and though Dean had never smelled it before, it matched.

"What did your nose have to say about that?" Sam asked, getting up from his crouched position, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

"The ground, the air, the tree, the grass... it's sick. I've never smelled sick before. Not like this, anyway. It's like the sickness is more than just natural ."

Sam shook his head, scoffing as he looked to the tree. He looked between the dead grass, the tree, and Dean. "Only you would find a hunt. Here of all places."

Dean laughed.

It was a light sound because this had to be the best turn around to a horrible day! With a smile, he thought to himself, : Thanks, Mom!:


: People don't question a dog with a collar, Sam, : Dean said, as he walked steady next to Sam. : They're like a man with a mission.:

"That's honestly not the strangest thing you've said to me this month," Sam sighed as he walked up the driveway. He was here to question Angela's father. They thought about doing it at the university, where he worked, but there wouldn't be any evidence of his shortcomings there. At least not... witchy . Dean was going to be snooping in the surrounding area of any other 'unholy' smells. "But it is the most random. Where did that come from?"

: ... I really hate wearing the collar is all .: Dean said shaking his neck. The collar jingling deceptively cute.

"So you're trying to convince yourself that it's not a big deal, huh?" Sam scoffed.

: Yeah, I guess ... Would you just go in there? I'll be out here. Doing my thing.:

"Got it, got it," Sam muttered as he knocked on Doctor Mason's door. Dean was long gone by the time the man opened the door.

"Hello, can I help you?"

Dean didn't stick around to listen to the rest of it, he had his nose to follow.

While Sam is distracting and talking with the father, Dean sniffed around the property. There was a garden in the back yard, filled with all sorts of autumn flowers, but it didn't smell off. Dean still wasn't sure about what that was, but it just didn't feel off. In fact, it all smelled relatively normal. The trees were healthy, the bushes comparatively alright, a few things were dying - but that was just the smell of new growth. A tangy, earth scent.

He hears Sam asking about a book on the guys shelf. Something to do with Latin? Greek? That is definitely a clue, a link, but Dean ignores it for now. Sam will let him know if he needs to worry about anything, or if he needs help. Same as Dean will let him know.

Wait.

Pulling up short, Dean sniffed deep. There.

What was that?

With the tree and the grass at the graveyard, there had been a strong presence of sickness, but here it was as faint as a drop of blood in the ocean. Like it lingered, but only barely. A hint of something rather than a punch to the face. Dean sneezed, and with it, the scent disappeared.

: It's faint, but it's here... : Dean tells Sam, and knowing he can't respond back, he continued. : Its really, really faint... I think - hmm, I think it visited here? If it could visit? Whatever it was, but it didn't stay. This isn't the source.:

There was no outward reaction from his brother, but Dean knew their inner communication worked just fine. Sam wrapped it up with the old guy and they both met back at the car. Dean was already there by the time Sam exited the house, and human.

"Anything on your end?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head.

"The man is just a grieving father. He teaches a class on ancient Greek... that was about it."

Dean clicked his tongue and frowned. "I don't think he's our guy. If he was messing around with any kind of dark joo-joo, I'd know. It would... it would stink the place up."

Sam frowned right back. "Well. I guess next on the list would be Angela's ex-roommate."


With Dean's 'new' nose and ears, hunts were easier than ever. They still had to eat and shower, and be human, but that didn't mean much. Where before, they had to rely on first hand accounts, and stolen police reports, and the general belief that what they hunted were fake or fictional; now it was as easy as Dean finding where the scent originated and then hunting them down. Where before it took a week, a month, or more, now it took hours, or a week tops.

In the past month, they'd already salted and burned a body, two family heirlooms, chased away a rugaru from a small town into the woods to kill, and excised a small time god. Sam knew for a fact they would still be on the rugaru if it wasn't for Dean. Research was the only thing that kept them grounded sometimes. Sam was grateful for Dean's gifts, for his curse.

He was also painfully worried.

When Dean had dropped the bombshell of him having magic, fine, sure, that was a lot, Sam was still reeling about it, but that made sense. Then he had gone and told him that consent for the bond was optional . The one thing Sam was sure about, and what had let him sleep pretty when he did sleep, was that Dean was pretty safe from Witches. No Witch was going to come and snatch him up. Yes, their life was fraught with danger, but Sam knew Dean could deal with that.

Could deal with. Could , being the keyword.

Now there was a possibility that Dean could be taken from him any minute... Without any word edgewise, Sam would be alone.

Not to mention Dean would basically be a slave to some Witch. It was enough to make him want to punch somebody. He felt so... helpless. And Dean... well, Dean would have been even more helpless. Add onto the fact that they knew next to nothing about familiars?

It was a mess. A giant mess. Worse, Sam didn't know who to turn to. Not that he had ever had many people to turn to...

Dad had been absent as soon as Sam had gone to college. Bobby was always there, but was he who Sam wanted to share with? Could he be trusted? Ellen and Bobby both knew of Dean's new status, but if they knew about such a loose end - how would they react? Bobby was a Hunter, even if he was their friend.

It was a rock and a hard place.

Sam glanced over at Dean, who was asleep in the seat, and tried not to let his worry taint their winning streak.

His brother wasn't a weak person. He was the strongest person Sam knew. But this wasn't something that Dean could fight, it was just something he had to live with, to survive, and it was up to Sam to protect him from the worst of it. Which he was never, ever going to let Dean know.

Ever.

His hand clenched on the steering wheel as he tried to remember that grounding feeling he had felt, putting dads dogtags with mother gravestone. It had settled him, for a short moment, before Dean had upended them, again.

"It doesn't fit a vengeful spirit," Sam said as they drove over to the house their victim and her roommate lived in. "Or demonic possession. This is something else. You think we can safely bet it's a witch?"

:I would. Based on smell alone, anyway.: Dean stated confidently. : I mean, listen Sam, spirits smell like nothing mixed with... I don't know how to describe it. Demons smell like sulpher. I'm not getting a hint of any of that here. This is something else... something we haven't encountered before. At least not this nose,:

"Great," Sam said, flatly, as he pulled up to the house. "Just what we needed."

Both Sam and Dean decide to go in. The door was open already, not locked, which wasn't the smartest... When they stepped through the door Dean realized he had made a mistake. He caught the beat of a heart off the corner of his senses, lighter, calmer than Sam's. It had been hidden because Dean hadn't been paying attention.

Shit. They're not alone. Shit shit shit.

This is a first for him. He'd been a bit careless with his new senses and hadn't been paying attention and he has missed a heartbeat.

Thinking fast, Dean grabbed a box and started placing a random assortment of stuff in it. Sam gave him a look but grabbed a picture frame himself. If the roommate came out and screamed, they could claim that they were... some distant relatives coming to collect some of the more 'personal' effects.

Sure enough, the girl screamed when she saw them. It surprised Sam enough that he jumped at the scream, Dean just whirled around on the girl.

Ugh. The girl was a loud screamer, too. Could this day get any better?

"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean called as the woman was surprisingly quick and had already hidden back into the room she had come from. Sam looked panicked but left it to Dean.

"I'm calling 911!"

"We're Angela's cousins!"

The erratic beating of the heart stopped, slowed, still fast but slowing a bit.

"What?"

Dean was quick on his toes and very quick on the uptake. He spun a story in his head just as fast as he could talk it.

"Yeah, her dad sent us to pick up pictures and stuff." He shrugged helplessly at Sam. "Personal effects, so that he didn't have to look at things... too soon you know?"

"... Angela's dad never said anything about you."

"Well, I mean," Dean did some quick thinking and pulled out a set of keys he had in his pocket. He was pretty sure he had swiped them off some hunt awhile ago, but they served a purpose. Noise distraction and now decoy keys. "How else would I have the key to your place?"

She bought it, hook line and sinker. Relaxed, just enough to burst into tears, she opened the doors.


"Sorry to startle you like that," Sam apologized, and coming from him the girl bought it.

"It's okay, it's just been, really hard since," The girl couldn't quit tearing up and sniffling. "Since Ang died."

Dean was intensely uncomfortably and awkwardly held out a kleenex box. The girl, Lindsey, took a tissue and blew hard against her sniffles. The sound was disgusting this up close and Dean was immensely grateful that Sam had been born a boy, not a girl, and wasn't a sissy. He might have gone crazy had he had to deal with this for twenty some years in motel rooms, and cars, and everywhere else.

"So." Dean tried to awkwardly situate between the crying and their purpose. "I'm sure you got a, a view of Angela that none of the family got to see." He smiled at her reassuringly as she looked to him. She returned it watery.

"Tell me, what, what was she like? I mean, what was she really like?"

Those big eyes of Lindsey were watery, but she smiled wobbly-like a baby and said, "She was great."

Sam and Dean didn't have to share a look, just hmm'd.

"Just great." The girl said, nodding and folding her hands into tight little fists. "I mean, she was so... so... "

She couldn't find the word but Dean could. It was... ridiculously easy.

"Great?"

"Yeah." There went the lip wobble. " Yeah ."

And she was crying.

Dean and Sam finally shared a look. Exasperated. Freakin' lovely.

"Here." Dean said, offering the box again. Greedy hands took two tissues as she sobbed.

"Here you go. You, uh, you two must have been really close, huh?"

"We were." She confirmed, trying to stifle her sniffles. "But it's not just her, it's Matt."

"Who - who is Matt?" Sam asked, leaning forward.

"Angelas boyfriend." Lindsey said, staring at them as if she didn't know who they were. Which, she didn't, but then Dean remembered their 'cousin' story.

"Oh, yeah," Dean said, playing his part right. "I thought she wasn't seeing that douche-bag anymore?"

Lindsey shook her head vehemently. "She wasn't. She broke up with him. He was... he was cheating on her."

"Then... why's - "

"He killed himself a few hours ago." She said, and the sobbing this time took on a new franticness. As she was crying she said through the tears, scandalized. "He cut his own throat. Who does that ?"

Sam pulled back, cocking his head. Well, there went that lead... Dean tried to comfort the girl.

"That's... that's pretty terrible."

"I know, right?" Lindsey sniffled and looking at Dean like he was a lifeline. Someone who got it ."He was talking Angela's death pretty hard,"

Dean snorted. "Really? After being caught cheating?"

Lindsey looked a little squirrely at that. "They were dating. I guess... I mean, he'd been messed up about it for days."

"Messed up?" Sam asked.

Dean asked for clarification. "Messed up how?"

Lindsey looked a little uncertain, leaned forward as she said in a lower voice. "He kept saying that he... saw her everywhere."

Sam's heartbeat skipped a beat. He and Dean didn't need to communicate to know that was a sign.

"Well, I'm, I'm sure that that's normal," Dean said, thrilled on the inside. This was something to work with. "I mean with everything that he was going through."

Lindsey was staring at Dean again. She shook her head.

"No, he said that he SAW her." Both brothers waited for more to that. "As in, an acid trip or something."

"Huh. Do you... do you think maybe somebody killed Matt?"

Lindsey was absolutely scandalized. "No! Never, why would they want to - "

She shut her mouth with a click.

Dean shared a momentary glance with Sam, who was on the same wavelength as him. Bingo.

"Angela's best friend never liked Matt." She confided, biting a nail. "I never thought about it before, but... but if anyone would have hurt Matt. It would have been him."

"Uh, this best friend have a name?"

"Yeah," Lindsey nodded. "Neil."

"Wouldn't happen to have an address, would you?"

"Why would you want to know where Neil lives?"

"Best friend to Angela, right? Might have a few personal effects?"

"Oh, yeah, well in that case."


Afterwards in the car Dean and Sam decided on their next course of action.

"So... question Neil?"

Sam looked at his watch, "I don't know man, it's getting kind of late."

"Sam, come on," Dean told him severely. "We've almost got this one. We're on the trail!"

It wasn't often that they found and finished a hunt in a day, after all. Dean was a little excited was all. Is that a crime?

"And I think we need to go check out where Matt was murdered, see if you can smell anything."

"And I think we need to go talk to this Neil dude."

Sam chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. Dean didn't stop.

"What if we find out that Neil did it? huh? What if whatever that smell is is connected to him?"

"Dean! We don't even know how or what this monster is, let alone how to kill them."

It was logical. The same kind of logic that they should have been Dean's first thought. Instead, Dean was focused on the smell and the thrill of the hunt. On the speed, on the quickness. Sam was focused on keeping them alive.

"... shut up Sam, and drive."


Caution tape covered the door, so Sam and Dean went around. Nobody was guarding the house, since it had been ruled a suicide, both of the brothers thought that was particularly stupid of them, but hey - they weren't in the law enforcement business. They were in the find monsters and kill them business.

There was no body, but that didn't help with the smell. In fact, not much did. Dean covered his nose, well aware he'd already been punched with the punch-bowl of scents, but it was to stop the smells any further from overwhelming him.

"Ugh." Sam groaned, coming around the couch to see the dark stains on the fabric. "Well, looks like here's where he died."

"Yeah, and he wasn't alone." Dean said, with a gag.

It was the same smell from the graveyard, but worse. Like. Multiplied by ten hundred times worse. It was almost completely synonymous with death, that was how sickly sweet the smell was. Death and that smell mixed to make a smell that even had his stomach turning. It wasn't right. It wasn't at all.

The electricity of magic followed the scent around the entire room.

"What do you mean he wasn't alone?" Sam demanded.

"Something killed him. That same thing that was in the cemetery was here. I can smell it."

"Probably bled out. If they ruled it a suicide, I wonder how they thought he killed himself?"

Dean didn't walk a step closer to the couch. That was where the smell was coming from. That and Death. The blood sang to him, a song of violence, of unhappy ends. Of an unfitting end to a life that should have continued. It was the blood of the murdered. And it sang -

With a blink as Sam broke his concentration, Dean came back to himself, realizing he'd gotten lost in his own head.

" - You think you can track it?"

Sam had walked to the other end of the room, flashlight ghosting over the dark red stains on the couch. Dean hadn't even heard him move, so lost within his own head he had been. The time he'd lost would have been only seconds, but he could still hear the echo of that song... a haunting not-melody.

What was that? Dean wondered, as he took a step back from the smell of the blood. The intoxicating, wrong, smell of blood.

"Yeah, I can track it." Dean told him, way past distracted.

But do I want to?


Sam trusted Dean's nose, he did, but he also wanted something concrete for himself. Call it the Hunter in him. Proof for the kill.

Call it this hunt was moving way faster than he was used to.

That was why they were here, digging up the grave of the late Angela Manson. Dean knew there was no body, and Sam trusted him, he did, but this was one of those things that they weren't sure if the mysterious cemetery-smell was covering up the death. Dean knew it wasn't, he'd just been inside the 'suicide' house of the girls ex. Death liked to be beside the smell, not covered by it.

But Sam was the human, so, Dean realized he had to do what he must to help him get the whole picture. Since he had the most 'pure' human instincts of the two of them, it was clear he had to be the one in charge.

Digging was hard work, too. That they worked in silence to the heaves and ho's of each other. It was exhausting, there was little reward, and it was a literal pain in the ass to dig five foot down just to find a heaping pile of nothing. Which is exactly what they found.

The coffin was empty. Which wasn't nearly the weird part.

It smelled fine. Like cedar, silk, and nails. Wood, cotton, and metal. There was no hint of the mysterious smell that seemed to infect the ground above it. Perhaps a bit of death, but it came from a mortuary - death lived there.

"The groundskeeper said they buried her four days ago," Dean said, with a sniff. Confused beyond his wildest dreams.

"What do you smell?"

"A coffin."

"Cute, Dean,"

"No, I'm serious. It's just the coffin. No death. No weird sickness smell... just a coffin."

Sam crouched to inspect the coffin. Feeling around the inside.

"That doesn't make sense - What's this?"

Crouching next to Sam, Dean saw where he was pointing. The top of the coffin had a been torn to shreds and on the coffin's lid were scratched symbols. Scoured into the wood. Dean leaned forward to sniff at them, only when he was about an inch away did he smell it, and pulled back sharply. Almost fell on his butt as he yanked himself back, but instead crashed against Sam.

"Oh God," He groaned shaking his head and pawing at his nose.

The smell didn't just lingered.

It burned.

"What?" Sam demanded, worry lacing every syllable. "What Dean?"

"It's the same smell. But... very directed. Ughh," Dean couldn't help it, he turned around and shoved his nose directly into Sam's throat taking a deep breath of the scent only Sam had. It was more instinct than actual thought on his part. He wanted to get away from the smell, the smell that lingered in his nose and made him nauseous. Sam smelled of books, old and new, that electric spark of magic that wasn't tainted like this horrible smell was, and clean, normal human.

Sam stiffened.

The effect was immediately calming. The smell of Sam swept through Dean as if he'd never smelled the sick-smell before.

"You okay there, Dean?" Sam asked, his voice strained from the odd angle and position he now found himself in.

"Just a sec," Dean breathed one last time before pulling back. "Ugh, that smell should come with some kind of warning. It's awful. Nearly barfed. Thanks, uh, for the clean air,"

"No problem." Sam cleared his throat, quickly changed the subject. "So the carvings are linked directly... Hey, I think I know these symbols."

"What? Really?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, her father had some books on the subject. He said he taught a class."

Dean could only shake his head. "He didn't smell like the smell. Not even a little."

"Could he wash himself of it?"

"... No, not as far as I can tell. Not as far as my nose is concerned."

"You never sniffed him." Sam tried to reason. "He could be it."

Dean shook his head. "No. No way. There would have been... been a smell that hung around. This smell... it doesn't just go away. It wasn't him,"

Breathing out, Sam tried to see things Dean's way. It was far far easier than "You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes." Dean looked to Sam. "More than sure."

"Who the hell could it be then?" Sam demanded, as he climbed out of the grave, giving Dean a hand to help him out when he was up. "The best friend? Neil?"

"I can still track the scent, I know I can, you just gotta give me some time."

"And when we find her?" Cause Sam was pretty sure that this woman would be the monster, and somebody had turned her into it. It was just about finding the who now.

"Go to the library, research the symbols," Dean said, "I'll try my damndest to track the smell with my nose."

Sam nodded, looking back to the grave. "We've gotta be quick. We're on a timeline here. People will be looking for us if we don't finish this up before first light."

"Timeline, got it." Dean said, pulling his collar out to place around his neck. "I'll -

:Keep you updated.:

And off he was.


Dean wondered, as he tried to follow a trail of death and sickness, what this Hunt would have looked like as a human.

He wondered that a lot, actually.

Without his sense of smell, what would he have done? He would have talked with the Father with Sam. Would he have waited to dig up the grave? Would he have asked more questions rather than being so concerned with his nose and the smell that seemed to be from hell itself? And as for his outlook on life... would his be different?

What about Sam?

He would have done a lot of things different, he decided, but so far his choices weren't the worst.

The town wasn't as small as some people thought, but also not as large as others probably knew. Between the library at the university that was opened all hours, Doctor Mason's house, the ex-boyfriend's house, where Angela used to live, and the unknown address of the best friend - it was about a twenty-thirty minute track between all of the places. More if he got stuck behind traffic on the main roads, but as a dog he wasn't doing so bad getting around.

Starting from the boyfriend's house as the most probable last place that the smell had come from based on smell alone, Dean followed through the length of the trees the strong scent of the mysterious-sickness-small. Ugh. Wasn't that a mouthful. The smell was still as strong as ever, but as the time went on, as his tracked and tracked every turn and movement of whoever had left the smell - it seemed to make his stomach roll less.

He made it to a house they hadn't visited before, and stopped to an immediate halt as the smell slammed into him.

It was the smell. Strong, stronger than anything he'd found before. Fresh, which was a strange thing to say about a smell that liked to sleep with death. The fresh smell was slightly different too. Sick, still, but a strong sickness that bordered on being natural. It confused Dean, but it was obviously the resting place, the nest, the den, of the monster.

:This is the place. : Dean snarled to himself. He wasn't sure if he and Sam were in range, but now that he knew...

Dean stiffened.

There was a heartbeat. One single heartbeat in the house. It took all of Dean's strength of hearing to stop thinking with his nose and start thinking with ears. There was the sound of talking, he couldn't really hear words, except a few of them, but it was useless. The tones though...

Dean focused.

One of them was worried, the other's tone was completely vanilla, no actual emotion. The voices never once rose, which told Dean that they were talking in secret... which was a bit ridiculous because they had the entire house to themselves. One heartbeat after all... Since the other voice wasn't muffled even further, that person was in the room.

So... one heartbeat. That meant that the girl hadn't been completely reanimated, or at least, not really. There was a human in there. There was a not-human in there. A human and a monster. It made sense... someone had to steal the body, reanimate the corpse, or c all of the about.

:Zombies. Who knew?:

He had the address now, so he turned and took off to the library.

This was one monster he had no clue how to deal with and Sam would probably appreciate if he played it smart.


:What'cha got? : Dean asked after he managed to sneak into the library. He wasn't really feeling like being a human right now, even with the perk of less smelling.

"Jesus!" Sam jumped as he looked down to where Dean was sitting, hissing at him, "Warn a guy, woulda?"

:Sorry. You hear I found the place?:

Sam nodded. "Yeah. It was faint, but I heard it. Listen here, I think I found what this is - "

:Zombie, right?:

"Yes," Sam smirked, rolling his eyes. "But you already knew that, or at least, suspected it - but get this."

Sam brought a book around for Dean to look at. The page was covered with a strange pictogram of swirls, symbols, and lines. It took Dean a second, but he got it. It matched! The page held the exact same thing that was on the top of the coffin lid.

:That's it.: Dean wanted to smile. :Did you translate?:

"You've only been gone like..." He looked at his watch. "Forty minutes. Gimme some time."

:Do you have anything?:

"Yeah, a little, here," Sam dropped the paper on the ground next to Dean's paws. "It's only bits and pieces but I'm getting there."

It was a little muggy, but Dean could make out what Sam had. It was ritualistic. Carved, not written, to change inside rather than something on the surface. The color of the wood also mattered, Dean read. Some of the symbols, Sam had figured out the meanings of, or they were guesses at best. It was impressive for only probably five or ten minutes of work.

What Dean could understand confused him briefly. How did Sam not understand the bits he'd translated?

:It seems pretty clearly zombie, bringing back the dead. What more are you translating? :

"More stories. Not just this one. Trying to find a way to... kill it." Sam explained but he was distracted.

:Want help?:

"Help would always be appreciated," Sam said, but didn't look up from his work.

:Be back then.:

Dean tracked his steps back just far enough outside that he was pretty sure there weren't any cameras. Then looking for people, he was human in a few seconds. Back at the desk helping Sam in minutes. It took them a few hours, but then after that it just got repetitive. They found nothing new after one in the morning. They called it after two.

"So we got silver... and we gotta return her to her grave?" Dean went over their notes on how to kill a Zombie. The how was more interesting to Sam and that showed in his brother's notes. Dean only cared about how to kill it. He'd already tracked it, killing was the next step.

"Good thing we didn't fill it up, huh?" Sam scoffed, stretching. "Uh, this is going to be a bitch."

"You can say that again," Dean said, packing up their notes and getting up to put the books on a cart. He made sure to split them between carts, so it didn't look too weird. One book went by the bees. Another went to the cart full of anatomy books.

"Well." Sam said, behind him as he grabbed his bag. "This is going to be a long morning."


Sam and Dean did not go into a fight without proper planning or experience. For simple salt and burns, they barely hesitated, but anything bigger and they made sure they knew what they were doing. This, what they were doing, was a lot less sure than they usually were. And yes, they both were aware they had research to back up their claims, and Dean's nose to backup the victim, and a place to have a final showdown; but.

Well. Relatively. They had to somehow get the dead-girl back to her coffin if the silver didn't work. Which, well, they had a working plan for that, but it was heavy dependent on the kid in question.

And the zombie...

And how fast they could run, which is why they stopped for a burger.


Dean leaned back in the chair, only one foot on the ground as he balanced precariously. Head thrown back, he was thinking. His burger long since eaten, digesting somewhere in his stomach with three handfuls of fries, his mind a million miles away.

Sam was reading something on his phone, and was not sharing with the class. As usual.

What was unusual, was how deeply Dean was lost in his own thoughts.

"You're never to bring me back," Dean finally said, abruptly. "Got it?"

Sam blinked. Eyes jumping off his screen and onto Dean's face that was pointed up towards the ceiling. The serious frown that Sam was seeing on Dean more and more often making an appearance. This... this needed to be talked out. He put down his phone and crossed his own arms, watching Dean.

"No bringing you back from the dead... got it," Sam agreed. "Any reason you felt you needed to stress that right now?"

"Zombies, Sammy," Dean snorted, giving him the stink eye. "Just... god damn stupid kids bringing fucking zombies into the world. As if there wasn't enough supernatural crap to deal with... now we gotta deal with the undead?" He shook his head. "Just... so stupid."

Sam cocked his head. There was something more going on with Dean. He didn't often rant, but when he did... Sam decided, playing the devil's advocate wasn't the worst thing he could do.

"His best friend just died, he was alone and hurting," Sam said. Defended. "He wasn't thinking clearly through the grief. I mean, can you blame him for wanting to do something about it?"

"You trying to tell me something, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head.

"I already said I wouldn't bring you back - " Privately, he added, ' not like that anyway '. "What's really going on?"

Dean's hands flexed on the table, before he pulled them back and crossed them defensively over his chest. He didn't answer for a long moment, eyes glued to the ceiling. It took him a long moment to finally tear his gaze away.

"It'd be so fucking easy, wouldn't it?" Dean whispered.

Sam frowned, waiting this out.

"We know a lot of shit, Sam, like..." He ran a hand down his face. "A lot of shit. If we thought it through enough, we could figure it out - couldn't we? We wouldn't mess up and bring each other back as zombies... We'd actually succeeded and - I - " He gave a frustrated sort of growl. Nearly animal. "I just realized, is all. How much we know. How easy it'd be, to do it right..."

For a long moment, Sam felt as if someone had just dragged the carpet out from under him.

"I - " Sam stuttered, completely caught off guard. "That's not gonna happen,"

Dean snorted. "Oh yeah? You know that, do you?"

"I do," Sam said, firmly.

And he, of course, forgot about that little fact of Dean knowing when he was lying.

"Got it, Sammy," Dean shook his head, pushing his chair back and grabbing his takeout bag. "Forget it. Let's get this over with," He pushed off the table and got up on his feet. "Come on, let's go,"

Sam felt uncomfortable, but Dean was already halfway to the door.

The conversation was done. For now.


"Talk first." Sam warned Dean. "Maybe we can get the kid to... come clean or something? Reverse the spell he used?"

Dean had a mouth full of fries but he gave Sam a baleful look. Really? Sam may be the smarter one, but he was also the one with a whole lot more mercy to give than Dean. The eldest brother had to roll his eyes. What was this? They let four vampires go and suddenly, they are were good samaritans to the monster community? Dean scoffed to himself. rediculous

"Okay, alright, fine, you're right, when has that ever worked for us?" Sam blew out a breath. "Okay, then we'll just go in there hoping we can talk him down but expecting a fight."

"That's what we always do."

And it was exactly what they did do.

"Do you smell her?"

Dean gave him a look. They were on the doorstep.

"Of course," He stated slowly, like talking to an idiot. "But I don't know if she's here."

Sam gave him a quizzical expression, and Dean knew he had to explain.

"Its like someone drenched the place in o'de'monster, which means I can smell it, but I can't hear it,"

"Ah," Sam said, and then knocked on the door. Hopefully they would get lucky and the zombie wouldn't be at the house.

A second passed, then the door opened.

"Hello, can I help you?"

Neil was a small kid, but then again, the brothers were both well over six foot. It was the oddest feeling, but Dean had the strangest almost supernatural need to punch the kid out. It wasn't a want, in fact, if he had less self control, he would have followed through. Probably just one of those instincts.

"Neil Baker?" Sam asked semi-politely, disinterested.

Brow furrowing, as if he couldn't understand why anyone would be looking for him, Neil opened the door slightly wider. "Yeah, that's me. Is there something you need?"

Sam opened his mouth to begin asking question in a well paced manner - Dean couldn't stand by and let that happen.

"Why did you bring Angela Manson back from the dead?"

Ahhh , Dean breathed in deeply, the sweet smell of terror.

The kid reeked within seconds, his heart tripped over itself, he swallowed convulsively, eyes opening a fraction too wide. The entire time, Dean didn't look away once. Locked in a staring match, Dean didn't even pay attention to Sam. How could he? His prey was right in front of him. And what prey the kid was...

Never had Dean felt so utterly like a predator before.

"I - what?" Neil spluttered once he got a hold of himself. He laughed nervously. "Ang is dead, a car crash, a few days ago - Why would you think I -"

"That's not what I asked," Dean was calm, perfectly synchronously calm. In a way, he'd never been this calm. Never. It was all... instinct . His senses flared as the human's heart rate skyrocketed. It was clear he understood that he was in the presence of something otherworldly. "Now, answer the question, why did you bring Angela back from the dead?"

"Dude, are you high or something?" Neil demanded as strongly as he could, but it came out shaky. "You can't - You can't bring back the dead."

" Dean ," Sam said, but Dean didn't even look at him. "What are you doing?"

It was easy to ignore him. Impossibly easy.

"Neil, buddy , I'm not going to ask you again."

The kid swallowed and shut the door a little tighter against his body.

"Who the fuck are you people?"

"You obviously brought her back," Dean continued, nonchalant. He'd never felt so in his element. "You denying it was kind of how we imagined this to go down. Now. How did you do it?"

Dean didn't wait for an answer, he answered for the kid.

"I don't actually care."

Dean took a step forward and held the door open with one hand, surprising the human. Neil skittered back, and then Dean was inside his house. The smell was overwhelming inside. Much fresher, much easier on the nose, but not so much on his stomach. She was inside. She was right... here.

She was in the house.

Just around the corner. Near , if Dean's senses had anything to say about it. Within her range, there was more off about her than he had known before. This close... she smelled rotten. Truly rotten. Festering meat. Bloody. Electric too. Like someone was burning the meat with an iron, but without the smoke or the burning. This close, Dean knew it was the work of magic. The harshness of it hit him. A switch flipped in his mind. Something changed.

The Familiar wanted to tear her apart, to rend flesh from bone from flesh, but he knew that the grave was where they needed to steer her. To tear something apart was one thing, but to kill it was another. The two trains of thoughts, Hunter and Familiar, found for purchase in his head.

Hunter won.

This zombie, this dead-girl, deserved death. Deserved rest.

It all clicked in his mind like a puzzle he had never wanted to solve. It was like someone had slapped some clay in front of him and he had made a masterpiece. Dean had never been artistic in his life, but suddenly he found that the end was going to be much more enjoyable than the trip. So, so much more enjoyable.

"Why'd you do it?"

Neil's lips were quivering.

"Guess what? Care even less about the why." Dean asked and answered in one breath.

Neil's heartbeat was completely off kilter. There was no rhythm or reason to it. It was pathetic and weak and stuttering. Dean decided to put him out of his misery.

"You brought a dead girl back to life," Dean's voice took on a new quality to it. Hypnotic. He didn't know it, but Sam could only gape as Dean did a one eighty. "At first, it was great. She was alive, not dead. Real, right in front of you. Right? She finally appreciates the real you, not that scumbag Matt." He scoffed, getting into the theater of it all. "And she promises she didn't kill him, but you know better than that. You know what she is."

The kid quivered in front of Dean. Dean's voice had dipped well below seductive and more... smooth. Calm. Like talking someone down from jumping, yet with an edge. Sam couldn't even pull his thoughts together to even intervene, especially since Dean seemed to have a plan. A wild, crazy, completely bat-shit plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He owed it to Dean to listen.

"What we, " Dean motioned to Sam and he. " Would like to let you know, is that there is only one way to kill her."

Neil opened his mouth, Dean help up a hand.

"No. Listen." Dean stressed. "You brought her back, maybe cause you love her, maybe because you think you'll be broken without her, maybe because you think she deserves another chance," Neil was entranced, he didn't move. "I don't care. I am just letting you know, we'll take care of it. She was dead, and she will be dead again before this day is over."

Before first light, Dean wanted to say, but that was showing his hand. Showing his hand to the zombie that was listening.

"I don't. Know. What. You're. Talking. About." Neil said, firmly, seeming to have come back to himself.

It was a lie. Neil knew it was a lie. Dean knew it was a lie. But, and here was the important part, Dean was pretty sure Neil knew that Dean knew it was a lie. They could only hope the zombie was too dumb to figure it out as well. Good. Maybe the kid was smarter than Dean had been led to think... considering he was in college, Dean didn't know what that said about the education system.

"It will take us three hours. Minimum. Bring your girlfriend to the cemetery in a few hours. We'll take care of your problem for you."

Then he turned and he walked away.

Easy as that. The spell he had over the kid broken.

"Dean!" Sam called to him, but Dean kept up a brutal pace to get away from the door. Away from Neil. Away from Angela. Sam needed to know what had happened back there, but not where the zombie could hear them.

"Dean, stop!"

The need to stop swept through him, but Dean didn't stop an inch. Not until he was in the car. In the driver seat. Then he flopped, shoved the keys in the ignition, and waited for Sam to hop in.

"Get in. We've got a zombie to kill."

"Dean," Sam exclaimed, but hopped in the passenger seat dutifully. Dean was off before he had fully closed his door. "What was that about?"

"Plan changed."

"Yes," Sam said in his no duh voice. "But what specifically happened to channel the change?"

"... The smell. She smelled... " Dean's lip pulled up into a snarl as he tried to describe it. "Smug. Wrong. Rotten. Like magic. She was near... she was right around the corner, probably in a closet or something. She didn't have a heartbeat, so I couldn't go off that, but... but what I could feel - it just took over. I knew what I needed to do."

"And that was?" Sam demanded, still trying to go over everything that had happened in that entrance way.

"The human had brought her back, but they are not tethered together." Dean didn't know how else to explain it. In fact, he wasn't even sure if he was in control of his mouth. "They should be tethered together, something must have gone wrong with the ritual... Something went wrong with the magic he used... She's going to kill him if we don't manage to get her into her grave."

Sam was still digesting that Dean had used the word 'human' to describe a kid, before he caught up to the last thing Dean had said. He still didn't quite understand the whole plan, or how Dean had gotten to certain conclusions, but he got one part.

"So you were stalling."

Dean nodded, flipping a turn signal and heading towards the cemetery.

"She was listening."

"What was all that about us needing a few hours to prepare?"

"Gotta lay a trap if you want anything to go your way."

Sam stared at him.

"... You planned a trap in there?"

"We need her to go to her grave." Dean began to explain his reasoning. It came much clearer now that he was away from the immediate danger. "She heard us talking about knowing how to kill her and coincidentally exactly where we were going to be. What she doesn't know is that we don't need prep time..." He shook his head, muttering to himself. "Hope Neils not stupid enough to piss her off."

"Whoah, wait, why?"

Dean looked at Sam annoyed. Wasn't it clear?

"Because she'll kill him. She doesn't need him anymore, Sam. He brought her back, didn't even think to tie her to him, and now she's wandering around killing people who wronged her. If we hadn't figured this out... she probably would have gone after Lindsey tonight."

"Why Lindsey?"

"She did the horizontal tango with Matt, she was the reason Angela broke up with him."

"And you know this how?" Sam asked, honestly so very confused how Dean had all this information just floating around in his head and hadn't even told him about it. And how easily he was telling him now. What was the trigger to this shift in Dean? Was it dangerous? Was it... was it a smell?

"She still smelled like him. I didn't put two and two together until we went to Mark's."

"... I don't have any words for this, Dean. Where did you learn all about that magic stuff?"

"What magic stuff?" Dean wrinkled his nose, at the bad taste that word left behind.

"Knowing he didn't bind her, knowing that he could have?"

Dean didn't have an answer. Not really.

"... It just made sense."

Except... well... it really hadn't. It was kind of a leap in logic, wasn't it?


They waited by the grave of Angela Manson for almost fifteen minutes before Dean started to feel tense. Sam was on the other end of the cemetery, so that if she came from that direction, he could be the first to strike. Doggie-Dean was under pretty easy to follow orders to tell Sam the second he felt the foul presence of the zombie.

Which would be easy, she was nearing... he could tell.

Until she came close enough to become a threat, Dean couldn't help but mull over the events of the day. It had started out easy enough. Search and sniff, recon. Then the going to people's houses, asking questions, getting answers. The reveal. The research. It had all gone basically textbook.

... So why didn't it feel like it?

Dean felt fine, but Sam was sending off vibes of 'worry', and not just because they were about to take on a zombie. He was worried for Dean. It hadn't quite started until Neil, but there had been a taste of it following Sam. Now it was like the star of the dish. It tinged everything Dean felt for Sam, from Sam, and around Sam. It was... distracting.

"Anything?" Sam asked from across the graveyard. Usually Dean wouldn't have heard him, the distance was pretty great, but it was quiet, and just them.

:She might be on her way. Nothing yet.:

"And you're sure she'll come?"

:Positive.:

For the first time, it wasn't the smell that came first for Dean. He must have been downwind. The thing that came to him was the heartbeat of a very alive human, stuttering in fear, but alive. Neil. She brought him along. Which was good, cause it meant that he wasn't dead, and bad, because it was a human. A human about to witness him and Sam work in tandem. About to see them work their magic.

Then came the smell of death and rotten-ness.

:They are here. Neil is with her... not sure why except for maybe a meat shield."

Dean hid his thoughts about the kid and readied himself for battle.

Surprise was the best weapon they had at the moment. One moment could make or break a fight, could make the loser or the winner. One moment was all that was needed.

Dean, luckily, had two.

"Angela, there is no way they could actually have a way of destroying you," Neil laughed nervously. Another voice spoke.

"Baby," The new voice said. "You don't want me to be hurt, do you?"

"No, of course not, Ang,"

"Then come, Neil," The dead girl had an airy, light voice. "Let's go make sure these two whack jobs don't actually have a way to hurt me."

Smart. The dead girl was smart, but also, Dean thought, stupid. Sure, she was probably strong and nearly impenetrable since she couldn't die, again, but she had never faced Hunters before. She didn't know the first thing about dealing with either he or Sam.

And the first thing was: never trust the words coming out of a Hunter's mouth.

:Going in.:

When Neil was a few feet in front of his undead girlfriend Dean struck. He went from Dog to human in a step, pulled his silver-knife that had been in his belt, out, and went for Angela's back. Only, apparently a few seconds was enough time for her to sense Dean. Before the knife could come down on her chest, she spun around.

Which turned out to be better, since the silver knife went straight into her sternum. Right above her heart.

"Ang!" Neil called out, in surprise.

Dean smiled as the knife went clean through. His smile faded as Angela snarled at him, pushing into the silver knife and catching him off guard. His footing faltered, and he lost a good grip on his feet. With superhuman strength she pushed Dean and he went flying .

"Oomph!" Dean groaned as he slid down the tree a length. Dean shook away the birds flying in front of his face.

That was gonna hurt in the morning.

When he got his wits about him, he looked up to the two in front of him. Just in time to see Neil staring at Angela, who was taking the knife out from her chest like she was a stick of butter. Her eyes were dark as she looked at the silver knife with distaste.

Throwing it on the ground, she came at Dean.

Shit , Dean thought. She was fast!

Dean transformed into dog-Dean and bolted. With four legs, he was fast. Unfortunately, it seemed becoming a zombie made one inhumanly fast. Angela kept up with Dean as he ran towards her former grave, soon to be her forever grave if Sam and Dean had anything to say about it.

Bursting into the open area of the cemetery Dean ran towards where Sam was hidden, lying in wait.

They had plans. They had backup plans. At least half of them included Dean as a dog, but most all of them included Sam re-killing Angela. Dean was better at being bait since he had been the one to lay down the trap.

And none of those plans had actually thought that Neil would fight back. In fact, none of them considered that Neil would run at them screaming and shouting to distract them from re-killing Angela. Nor that Sam would punch him out. Nor that he would go down so easily.

In fact... It was just a stupid human moment that Sam promised he was going to laugh about it later.

Idiot.

"Neil!" Angela called out, as best she could, turning to attack Sam who was closest. She tackled him down, leaving Sam groaning on the ground. Dean managed to distract her, after a few moments of quick dodging and feigns. Dean led Angela straight into Sam's knife. But two stabs of their silver knives did no damage whatsoever. Just pissed her off.

:Plan B! : Dean said, with a snarl as he threw himself at Angela. : We've got to stake her into the coffin!:

"Way ahead of you Dean!" Sam called out as he punched Angela in the jaw to give himself some time to get near to the grave.

"Wait!" Angela called out, frantic. She looked like a mad woman with all the dried blood from the stab wounds, but there was something about her face that was still beautiful. It gave Sam pause for a moment, it was all she needed. "It's not what you think. I didn't ask to be brought back. But it's still me. I'm still a person. Please."

The pleading, unfortunately for her, fell on deaf ears. With an almost apologetic grimace, Sam raised the gun and shot her straight in the forehead. She staggered, but was otherwise alive, zombie as she was. Yet, she was just close enough to the grave that all it would take was the right gust of wind to blow her inside.

Luckily, Dean weighed approximately a gust of wind times his own weight.

The tumble Dean and Angela took as Dean leapt at her jumbled bones and brains. Angela was too surprised to respond quickly, groaning in abject pain - which was so unzombie like - but Dean was the one who had attacked. Transforming, Dean quickly grabbed the spear-like pipe made of silver they had had put in the grave before hand.

"Wait! No!" Angela yelled, as Dean reared back and thrust the spear right through her chest into the coffin.

There was a brief moment of convulsions as Angela re-died, a moment where her eyes were open, where they stared at Dean. Where they questioned who the monster was. Before stillness.

Trying to catch his breath, Dean leaned against the side of the grave, relieved it was over. There was silence for a beat, then -

"Dean?" Sam called out above him.

"Here!" Dean called back. "Here, Sam."

"You okay?"

Then Sam's face peeked over the hole.

"I'm good."

"She's dead?"

Dean nodded. "Yes... Well, again,"

Sam sighed a breath of relief.


Dean and Sam couldn't take their time re-filling the hole. They only had an hour, two at most, before the sun was up and someone would come questioning. Neil woke up with a goose egg on his head about halfway through their re-application of soil to coffin.

They didn't really need to talk until that happened, so they hadn't.

"Whass-happening?" Neil woke slowly and, considering he had been bludgeoned with the heel of Dean's silver knife, considerably well.

"Well, champ," Dean said as he grunted, spooning a pile of dirt back over the coffin. "We took care of your magical little mess up for you."

"Magical... little..." Neil was slow on the uptake, but abruptly he sat up, groaning as he held his hands. "Angela!"

Dean gave Sam his 'this is all you' look. It wasn't his job to deal with emotional people. He usually just slapped them, but they also needed to treat this with a certain level of kiddie gloves, considering the kid had seen him go from dog to Dean to dog again. Still. Not Dean's problem.

Sam dropped his shovel, earning a angry scowl from Dean, who continued his work.

"Alright, yeah, how much do you remember?"

Neil blinked.

"Uh, well, when you guys left, I went to talk to Angela. She had heard everything."

Dean felt a smug and called out. "I know. I wanted her to."

"- Wait. What?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "It was a trap, Neil. We had to get Angela to come back to her grave. It was one of the only ways we knew how to kill her."

Neil's eyes watered. "Why'd you have to kill her, though? She didn't do anything!"

"Uh, she was a Zombie." Dean called out, with a scoff. He only had a few more inches of soil left, so he hurried up.

"But she wasn't hurting anyone!"

"She killed Matt." Dean called in between grunts.

Neil just looked absolutely shellshocked. His eyes far away. Dean could see him starting to waver on the edge of passing out, and collapsing. He glared at Sam, before throwing his shovel away from the mess of a grave, and tromping over to Neil. Sam reached for him, but Dean shrugged over his hand on his shoulder.

He reached Neil and then crouched in front of him.

Neil startled, staring at Dean.

"You - you turned into a dog," He stated, and if he were any more pale, he'd be suspect of being a zombie.

"Yup," Dean stated, arms on his knees, on his tiptoes. "I did. We're not talking about that, Neil, buddy, we're talking about you,"

"Me?" He squeaked.

"You,"

But, Dean didn't talk. He waited. He was good at waiting. Talking was annoying and petty and he didn't always make words that were... 'good'. So he crouched, and he stared into Neil's eyes, and he waited for him to work his little brain into the equation. He was smart enough to bring a girl back to life, after all, he could figure this out, too.

"... She was going to kill me, wasn't she?"

Dean, as a rule, didn't wear kid gloves with idiots, but he'd never had a nose, or ears, of a dog before either. This was new territory. And the kid was leaking sadness, and agony, and understanding, and pain. He got it. He did. He messed up, he saw his life flash before his eyes, he got it. Dean didn't feel like rubbing his face in it. At least... not right now. He didn't need a slap he needed... a hug.

"Don't say a thing," He called over his shoulder at Sam, preemptively, before he transformed.

"Wha - " Sam turned to him and stared.

He cursed, silently, in his mind, that his phone was all the way behind the bush.

As a dog, Dean settled across Neil's lap. That was all the man-boy needed. With great wracking sobs, he hugged Dean around his neck. He sobbed, he lamented over Angela, but mostly he shook with relief that it was over. He hugged a little too tight, but Dean was used to that with children, so he wasn't too bothered. His breathing wasn't constricted, after all.

He saw Sam staring.

:Not a word,: Dean sent Sam's way, his ears laying flat on his head as Neil cried into his fur. : Not a single, word,:

Sam kept quiet, for now, and went back to shoveling.

In the car afterwards, after dropping Neil off, and cleaning up in Neil's shower, and leaving the kid with a healthy fear of all things supernatural and with the understanding that if he ever did anything that stupid again, they'd be back but for him, next time; they drove.

The music was turned low, yet neither of them spoke. They were exhausted. Digging up a grave, fighting a zombie, refilling a grave - it was taxing. Dean had personally been kicked, thrown, and then hugged within an inch of his life. Sam had at least gotten some rest between, and he had a few more hours sitting and relaxing, so he was in the drivers seat.

"So - " Sam began. Dean interrupted him without skipping a beat, eyes closed, leaning against the window.

"Not. A. Word."

"I was just going to say - "

"Sam. Shut your pie-hole,"

Sam's lips twitched into a smile, but he obeyed.

The rest of the drive was silent.


When Sam fell asleep, Dean finally allowed himself to mull over what he was feeling. Relief, that they were alive. Weary, from the aches and pains littering his chest. Guilty -

He stopped short and slowed down, just enough, not enough to wake Sam as he began to really think it over.

Understanding Neil was easy. Dean could understand him almost as if he was him. Sacrificing something, for someone. It was as ingrained in Dean as hunting was. Family, deserved every sacrifice. Every single one. Except this, right? Bringing someone back?

Dean's hands clenched on the wheel as he stepped on the gas.

He had told Sam not to though, and he knew that Sam would follow his words on this.

Right?