"Thanks guys. This is um… our last song" Whitney said into the microphone. She was perched high on a barstool gripping the microphone a little nervously. Sam had noticed that had glammed herself up a bit, her eyes were coated with thick black mascara and her lips were ruby red. She had a lit cigarette precariously sitting on an astray next to her. She took a long drag of it before lightly letting the smoke escape her lips. Tom and Jack were exchanging glances as she did this, which led Sam to believe that smoking was out of character for her.

"You got to hand it to her, she's got that charisma on stage" Sam whispered to Dean.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam.

"I'm just saying" Sam retorted and turned his attention towards the stage.

There was no doubting it, there was a definite shift in the air. A presence that perhaps, had been lingering on the edge, was now somewhere around the bar. It was dark and cold outside, but it felt the same indoors. The two brothers felt it instinctively and looked at each other with concerned expressions, scanning the entire bar. The audiences, unaware were gazing at the stage.

Once again, Whitney had her glossy lip inches away from the microphone. Yet again, she began to sing

"Don't know why.. there's no sun up in the sky… stormy weather" a voice erupted from her frame. Powerful, yet sad. Her eyes suddenly turned misty, a tear rolled down her cheek.

Behind her, Tom had thrown his drumsticks at the wall in anger while Jack looked on in disbelief.

Sam stopped scanning the bar for any signs of spirits. He stared at Whitney and suddenly he felt weak. His arms fell limply at his side, emotions began to bubble at the surface, wanting to break through. He tried to clasp his eyes shut, but even that was now impossible.

"Keeps raining all of the time" she sang.

Dean had now seen the affect Whitney was having on Sam. And the rest of the bar. In fact, there were even people outside on the street who were frozen to the spot staring straight ahead.

And yet, like Dean, there were a few who weren't affected. A few people looking confused at their companions, waving hands in front of their faces. Tom and Jack were looking miffed, but also pale and shaky as they managed to tear themselves off the stage with great difficulty and stormed out of the bar. The bartender had a curious expression on his face, which could only be described as mild amusement with a hint of curiosity.

"Interesting choice" he muttered under his breath

"I'm sorry what?" asked Dean leaning in towards the Bartender.

The Bartender looked surprised as if he had forgotten Dean was even there. "Nothing.. Just interesting song choice. Stormy Weather. That takes me back" he said throwing his dishcloth over his shoulder.

Dean raised an eyebrow, perplexed. There was something about this bartender…

"Do you rent rooms?" he asked

"Rent rooms?"

"Yeah.. This is a hotel right?"

"Used to be" the bartender sighed. "I don't rent them out anymore"

"So whats up there?" he gestured towards the wooden staircase towards the back of the pub.

The Bartender leaned in close to Dean to retort "Nothing" he said simply as he turned his heel and walked towards the other end of the bar.

Dean turned to Sam who was transfixed with the performance. Dean did not like this.

"What are you thinking?" He asked pushing Sam lightly.

The push startled him. "Wha..? oh. Um. Well, i'm thinking a possesion" he said and Dean nodded in agreement.

"Its progressing fast" Sam noted. "She looks a little different from this morning. Holds herself differently"

Again Dean agreed.

"I''m gonna take a look upstairs" He gestured towards the staircase with his woodchip. "You'll be ok?"

Sam nodded without looking at Dean. "Yeah.. I'll go after Whitney when she's done"

It didn't take Sam long to find her. Whitney had again bolted off the stage as soon as she stopped singing, and Sam had followed her through the kitchen into a back room with a rusty door. He eased it open to see it led into a dirty alleyway behind the bar. She was crouched on the ground, her shoulders shaking slightly.

"Whitney? Are you ok?" Sam asked offering his hand to her shoulder.

"Please.. Just leave me alone" was the muffled reply.

"Whitney I want to help you. Can you tell me what's going on?" He eased his tall frame into a crouch to talk to her face to face.

He was taken aback when she lifted her head suddenly and sharply. "I don't want your help" a voice rasped from within her. In one swift movement, Whitney grabbed Sam by his jacket and threw him into the air.

Sam landed awkwardly on his shoulder by the dumpster. The force and strength of her throw had dislocated his arm, which hung useless and limp by his side. He gasped in pain and looked up through the haze in his eyes at Whitney's figure, which was suddenly standing over him. She stared into his face so intently, Sam's eyes felt like they were burning out of their sockets. Her face suddenly turned into suprise, horror and guilt before she turned and ran down the alley towards the streets leaving Sam, who now had a very clear idea what he had to do....