Ok, sorry this took so long to update, but I had some serious homework to do. And a day of clinical at the Nursing home…oh the stressful life of a Nursing student.

So anyway, the story continues!

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Somehow, Sam, Dean and I managed to have a whole three days to ourselves before we had another job.

Dean came into the house and slammed the door behind him. He strode into the living room where I was patching up a pair of my cargo pants and clicked the TV on.

"Look," he stated simply, pointing at the screen with his boot as he plopped onto the couch next to me.

There was a young female reporter on the screen and she looked like she was going to be sick as she rambled on about "the unspeakable horror" and "grisly scene" behind her. The camera shifted and zoomed in behind the reporter and my stomach twisted. There, on the floor of what appeared to be a bedroom, was a body covered by a sheet but there was no mistaking the red pool around it and the red splatter on the wall behind it.

"The body was found early this morning by the husband who had just returned home from his late shift at work," the reporter was saying, her voice sounding slightly choked. "He reported to the police his wife was "shredded". Police on the scene have told us the strangest thing about this murder is that the heart of the victim seems to be missing. They aren't releasing any more information at this time."

"Werewolf of Hannibal?" Dean looked at me with a grin and it took me a second to catch his joke.

"Looks like it," I said with a shake of my head and a laugh, despite the horror of the newscast. Dean could always make me smile.

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked, standing up and turning off the TV, "Looks like we've got some investigating to do today."

Sam walked in at that very moment, toweling off his hair from the shower he just got out of.

"Speak of the Devil," Dean quipped.

For a moment, or maybe I imagined it, Sam's eyes darkened and he shot a glare so deadly at Dean that I was surprised when Dean's head didn't explode! But just as soon as it had been there, the expression was gone and Sam smiled.

"You guys talking about me, huh?" he asked smugly.

"Look at this," I said, clicking the TV back on. Sam sat next to me and I caught his clean, fresh from the shower scent and my head spun a little.

Sam watched the TV in silence, his brow furrowing into the adorable worried look I saw him get whenever something like this happened. I guess he saw enough because he turned the TV off and leaned back.

"Werewolf, huh?" he muttered. There was something in his voice I couldn't quite put my finger on…a little hint of sadness?

"Yep," Dean replied, propping his feet up on my coffee table. "Wanna go check it out?"

"Of course!" I said excitedly, I wasn't one to avoid a challenge! "C'mon, let's get ready."

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I straightened my black tie and ran my hands down the legs of my black pants. The mirror revealed me in my FBI suit that I always kept handy for times like this. I tucked my fake badge in my pocket and walked out of the room to check on Sam and Dean's progress.

They were both ready to go, looking snazzy and highly attractive in their suits as well. I never got tired of seeing them in these clothes.

"Alright," Dean said, giving himself a wink in the mirror, "Let's go see what there is to see."

We piled into the Impala; my old truck wasn't exactly FBI material, and drove out to Highway 79. There was a small town just outside of Hannibal called Monkey Run and, as we turned onto the familiar creepy road into the town, I wasn't surprised a werewolf would be here. The locals all said the town was haunted and anyone who happened to find it, hidden away off the road, would probably have to agree. On one side of the road in is a sheer rock face and on the other is a drop into a swamp-like creek, then there's an old, abandoned, stilted house and the town is just ahead. Lots of dogs running about, very few people are ever in their yards or on the dirt roads of the village. It's like a ghost town.

Today, however, there are people everywhere. News vans, police cars and random people looking for some entertainment all crowded around a white house with a yard full of Mary statues and various lawn ornaments. Apparently, this woman's plaster saints hadn't protected her like she thought they would.

We all got out of the Impala and walked confidently up to, and under, the crime scene tape and approached the policeman who seemed to be in charge.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" the cop, young and self-important looking, snapped at us as we approached.

Dean and Sam pulled out their badges and flipped them open at the same time.

"I'm Agent Scholz, this is Agent DeCarlo," Dean stated, he nodded at me, "This is our trainee, Agent Tucker."

I flashed my badge and the cop looked at it for a time, pretending to know what he was looking for. He finally stepped back with a roll of his eyes and let us inside.

"Agent Tucker?" Sam asked me as we walked up the stairs.

"Tanya Tucker?" I asked, receiving only blank looks from both of them, "The country singer?"

"Your aliases are country singers?" Dean asked with his eyebrow raised in amusement.

"You have your ways, I have mine."

We reached the top of the stairs and passed a cameraman who was reviewing his pictures and he shot us a smile as he went down the stairs. You have to be a little sick to have smile on your face after seeing such a grisly scene as what we walked into.

There was blood EVERYWHERE, and that is no exaggeration. The walls, the bed, the window, the door and every piece of furniture in the room were splattered in varying amounts of sticky, dark red blood. I shook my head in disgust as I walked carefully around the pool that had leaked from the sheeted body on the floor, pulled on some sterile gloves and began investigating the sheets on the bed for signs of werewolf activity. Sam pulled out the EMF and started scanning the room. Dean lifted the sheet from the body and started searching for evidence there.

I was perplexed by the crime scene. So far, all the signs looked exactly like a werewolf attack, the room was completely overturned as if a frenzied fight occurred; the amount of blood was concurrent with someone being torn apart and the body's heart was missing, but I hadn't found prints, hairs, not even a fingernail piece. Werewolves tended to leave pieces of themselves behind during their attacks, and they definitely didn't clean up after themselves when their attack was over.

Sam pocketed his EMF with a negative shake of his head and Dean stood up from leaning over the body with a confused look on his face.

"No EMF readings at all," Sam reported, "Definitely not spirit activity."

"Not a speck of nothing on the bed or the door or the windowsill," I stated, snapping my gloves off and pitching them out the window.

"I didn't find any hair or nothin' on Mrs. Rawhide over there," Dean said with a jerk of his head toward the body on the floor, "Only thing is, she's torn apart like normal and her heart was ripped out which is also very usual."

Sam pulled out a camera and snapped some shots of the body, the bed and random spots around the room and we decided to review at the local bar because Dean said he couldn't think on a clean liver.

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"Doesn't make any sense," I complained as I sipped on my Irish coffee. "What else could do this but a werewolf?"

"No clue," Sam said, sounding disappointed as well, "Nothing we've ever seen before, apparently."

"Should we call Bobby?" I asked Dean.

"Not just yet," Dean said, taking a swig of his beer, "Bobby's a busy man and I think we're big enough kids to solve a little problem like a werewolf...thing."

Normally I would agree with Dean in this respect, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something we missed.

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O.o What could this monster be? Keep posted for further chapters!