Crystal blue eyes flew open, a hand clutched to a heaving chest, the heart beating hard against the palm and a deep rumble vibrated along her body.

It took her a few seconds to realize what that sound was. A throaty rumble of a powerful car. From the sounds of it, she concluded that it was a classic chevy. She had a boyfriend that had a been a mechanic and he showed her the ins and the outs of every single car that was made.

The interior was dark and she squinted to see who the two men in the front seat were. She had seen the silhouette of the two men when she had opened her eyes.

She felt something heavy on her small body and she looked down at her attire She was wearing a very worn leather jacket, faded in several spots. As she brought the jacket to her noses, she smelled the masculine smell encased in the leather. She took a moment to memorize that smell: gun oil, leather and spicy soap. She was confused to where she was, her mind a blank canvas. Then like a bolt of lighting, she remembered the hospital. She had killed someone.

She slowly moved her head to look around the back seat for any kind of weapon.

her fingers finding what appeared to be a canvas bag.. She nervously licked her lips as she moved her fingers along the fabric, feeling the cold metal of the zipper.

She paused as the driver shifted in his seat and she held her breath. Music came from the stereo and she closed her eyes in relief. She slowly moved the zipper down the track, looking up at the passenger. His head was against the window, a tattered trucker cap lay sideways on his head and small snores came from his mouth. He was asleep.

She looked up when the driver began to lightly drum the steering wheel with his fingers. She wasn't sure how she knew that she would find a weapon in this bag. It was like a sixth sense of sorts.

When the bag finally opened, she reached in side. She felt several pairs of jeans, T shirts and some other stuff she wasn't sure of. Was that a flask? She counted three. Her heart hammered loudly as she was afraid she wasn't going to find anything.

Then she found it. A small pistol lying in the bottom of the bag, a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She was very skilled in marksmanship, an ex boyfriend had taught her. He had been a sniper in the Marines and he was perfect at teaching her.

She pulled the pistol out of the bag and placed her hands around it, slowly cocking back the trigger. The driver stiffened when he heard the click.

"Don't' move." Skylar said with gritted teeth. She placed the gun into the back of the seat. "I have a gun pointed in the seats. One wrong move and I will shoot you in the gut."

The driver slammed on his brakes and Skylar lurched forward, hitting her head on the back of the seat. She reached for her nose, dropping the gun on the floorboard. With a ricocheting sound, the gun fired, exiting through the back door. With a loud crash, the back window exploded on her, cutting her skin.

"Son of a bitch" The driver roared.

With a cry, the back door was yanked open and she was grabbed around her T shirt and tossed onto the hard ground, the breathe exhaling from her lips.

"Dean! Stand down!"

Skylar swayed on her feet, feeling the ground beneath her pitch and swim. Dean? No... She placed her hands behind her, feeling them sink into the mud, and tried to stand on her feet. When she stumbled, a hand wrapped around her wrist and she let out a scream as an image exploded behind her eyes.

Snarling, snapping and growling. All around her and she couldn't pin point where the noise was coming from. Motion behind her caused her to turn and when she did, she felt the icy grip of fear as it clutched her stomach. A huge black dog stood behind her, the hackles on its shoulders raised up, black lips curled back which showed off a pair of long fangs. It snapped its jaws and lunged forward, causing her to tumble backwards.

With a bored sigh, Hailey Singer slowly moved the white dish towel around in circles. Her eyes were not on that rag, but instead, they were locked on the window that was across from the diner's counter. A few patrons were scattered about the diner, quietly eating the remains of their breakfast. Usually Hailey loved it slow, but today, her focus was on that window.

For a week straight, 12 o'clock, she watched as a tall man with shaggy brown hair, pace back and forth in front of the mirror. Every time, without fail, he would walk to the door, place his hand on the brass doorknob and pause. Just when she thought he would turn that handle, he would quickly turn from it and with quick, long steps, walk away from the diner.

Today, that ritual would be no more. Hailey was waiting for him to appear and she glanced over her shoulder at the clock. She had five minutes.

She slid her hands around to the back of the apron and with a tug of the strings, she tossed the apron on to the surface of the counter.

"Excuse me, Mis."

Hailey rolled her eyes as she turned to the man that had approached the counter with a cup in his hand. "Can I help you?" Her eyes darted to the window to see him standing on the sidewalk, his hands stuffed into the brown courdory jacket he was wearing. The ends of his shaggy brown hair blew around his face and he didn't attempt to brush them away from his face.

"Can I get another refill?"

Hailey grabbed the mug from the older gentlemen, filled it with coffee and handed it back to him. By the time she threw open the glass door, he was already to the intersection, his long legs hard to keep up with.

"Sam Winchester!" Hailey was out of breath as she caught up with him at the pedestrian signal. "You just gonna walk away with out coming inside and saying hello to me?"

"So, lets get this all out here and see what the hell we are dealing with!" Dean

Winchester paused his pacing to see Skylar was still passed out on the bed, her slow breathing too quiet to be heard. Since the fiasco with the gun,, Dean's mind had been constantly running in circles. But it always came down to the same question. What the hell happened at that campsite?

Dean had met Bobby at the morgue and followed him into the autopsy room. The morgue attendenat gave them the vague details. Was found cut to death by some kind of unknown weapon. Cuts were along the chest, the face and the mans throat had been ripped apart. The woman assumed it had been post mortem by some kinds of animals that were scavenging.

As she left them with the body, Bobby took the sheet and yanked it off the body.

The body that had lay on the cold metal table, would have been considered handsome at one point in his life. Dark blonde hair was matted with blood and the once sharp features were interrupted by three long, deep slashes.

Bobby had pointed out something white that had been glistening in what used to be the mans throat. It was a claw. Things were starting to not add up and they had left the morgue with more questions than answers.

Bobby looked up from a worn, leather book and sighed. "We don't know much here Dean. That man had been torn to pieces by some kind of animal. And if I'm wrong, some kind of dog..or wolf."

"Son of a bitch," Dean sighed as he plopped down on the end of the spare bed and rubbed his face.

"You know what this means Dean. We need Sammy's help."

Dean looked up from his hands to see Bobby and sighed. "We don't know where he is."

"Hailey called me yesterday. He's in Standford."

Dean almost wanted to tell Bobby to forget it, that they would do this on their own, but they needed Sam's brains. The two brothers hadn't spoken in a year and Dean wasn't anxious to find out how his reception would be relieved. He looked over at the occupied bed that was sitting near the window and watched Skylar sleep. He would do it for her.