His nose itched and he wanted nothing more than to scratch the damn thing. The trickle of blood and sweat dribbling down his skin was more distressing to him than being chained up on display for the bloody Ferals. The dog-like creatures had no skin, no eyes, no ears and dripped blood like it was in endless supply. They prowled, gnashed and growled in the pit below while he sweat out his punishment.

The Priestess had seen the two young men in town a few hours earlier. They were the best candidates for the ritual. The blood of two strong, healthy men was nearly perfect—of course, it would have been better if one of them was female, but beggars can't be choosers. It was his job to lure the men to their death, but he had not been very successful as of late. Thus the wise Priestess concluded he needed to be punished. This was more of a bore than a punishment in his eyes. He was supposed to be terrified, but he had dealt with the beasts on too regular a basis to find them more than a nuisance now.

In his eyes, the Priestess was selfish. She wanted everything to be done her way and to be done instantly. She was like a child. Valtiel would not rush for her, or anyone, save the Holy Mother.

None-the-less, he needed to proceed with preparations. Doubts had been planted in the stubborn one's head, which would make it much easier to lure him. The tall one was next and it would be easier to convince him. A plan just needed to be made.

While he hung from the steel grate, he could feel the world shifting once again and the mutts below were becoming uneasy.


"So the place is normal again?" Dean asked as he warily stepped outside. He could see the street from here.

"As normal as it can be for being plagued with a murderous cult and monsters," Sam answered with a nod. When he had gone over to examine the fresh symbol, the weird air raid sirens had sounded again. They stepped outside, abandoning the search in favor of checking out the street. Everything was back to how it had been.

"Who keeps doing that?" Dean demanded, arms spread wide as he spun in a circle, examining the foggy street.

Sam shrugged. "Sharalynn or one of her followers, most likely."

"We really need to find that woman."

"Hey, I've been thinking…"

Dean rolled his eyes. "There's a shocker."

"…that resurrection circle in the church," Sam continued, ignoring Dean, "Do you remember how Jesse told us Herman was dead?"

"You think Sharalynn brought him back to life?" Dean scowled at the concrete.

"Someone did. Maybe it's some way to summon a Crossroads Demon, one we've never heard of. I dunno…I'm also getting the feeling we're being led along, like with this key. Someone is leaving this stuff out for us to find." Sam put his hand in his pocket, fingers brushing over the doll as they wrapped around the key.

"Took you long enough to clue into that bit of info," Dean paused in his insult to fill a skinned dog full of holes. "I was thinking that when we saw the drawing in the prison. But honestly, nothing bothers me more than the phantom town. As far as I know, it didn't even exist until yesterday. I've been all over this damn state and not once did I see hide nor hair of this place."

All Sam could do was shrug. It was bizarre that the town would pop up out of nowhere. He shook his head and pulled the key out of his pocket, handing it to Dean. "We need to find out what this opens."

"Did you catch this on the handle here?" Dean asked, examining the item. "Says 'two white birds in a tarnished cage'. What the hell? Isn't that supposed to be a gilded cage?" He handed the key back to Sam, brow creased in confusion.

"Typically, but I'm way past the point of questioning things here, Dean."

The boys fell silent as they weaved their way through an alley littered with boxes, dumpsters and garbage cans. A can toppled behind them and they both spun, weapons raised. They waited a few heartbeats and when nothing crept out of the shadows they continued onward.

Dean carefully hopped up on a dumpster, ignoring the pain in his leg. He wrinkled his nose when he caught a whiff of the contents of what he was standing on. "This smells worse than garbage should."

Sam lifted one side of the lid and peeked inside. "I don't see anything weird. Mind you, it's all in bags." He let the lid drop and hopped up to join Dean as he leapt the fence into the next property. It was a construction area, building materials sitting in neat piles around the fence and abandoned vehicles parked in the not-quite-muddy lot.

"Dude, you've got something stuck to your boot," said Dean as he ducked under a girder.

Sam leaned against a half-finished wall and lifted his foot. A piece of yellowed paper splattered with blood clung to the tread of his boot. He picked it off and frowned at the damp sheet.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"A poem," answered Sam, handing the paper to Dean.

Forfeit Death

And cage in Life

In the nest

A dire fright

A bloody mess

The perfect sight

Lungs and liver

And heart alike

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean grumbled, thrusting the paper back at Sam.

"I dunno, but it's kinda creepy," he answered, folding the paper and slipping it into one of his jean pockets.

"Everything around here is creepy, you moron. We keep getting information, but nothing is pointing us in one direction. It's like a wild goose chase, but with a purpose if that makes any sense." Dean frowned at his own words.

Sam nodded. "I get what you mean. It'll probably sort itself out eventually."

"If it doesn't, we'll have to force it," said Dean, grunting in effort as he climbed another fence. This time they found themselves in a parking lot behind a small convenience store. Another abandoned vehicle was parked haphazardly across three spaces.

The front and side of the store was all wide windows covered in various posters, flyers and advertisements. Through the papers, Dean could see the coolers at the back of the store. "Are you thirsty? I'm thirsty," he said, pushing the front door open. A sensor made a sickly bing-bong sound, notifying any inhabitants of the new comers. No one was there to notice.

Sam went to check out the back office while Dean went straight to the wall of coolers. He pulled out a bottle of water with an opaque label that covered it from the neck right to the bottom. Twisting off the cap, he tipped it back against his lips and took a big gulp. Almost as soon as it went down, it came back up. Dean bent over as the contents of his stomach splattered wetly on the tile. When he was done, he spit a couple of times for good measure and straightened up. Whatever was in that bottle was not, by any stretch of the imagination, water. It was thick and pungent and smelled worse than it had tasted.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked, appearing beside him and glancing down at the puddle of vomit. His nose wrinkled.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat, his voice sounding ragged in his ears. "What do you think this is?" he asked, handing the bottle to Sam. His brother looked inside the bottle and jerked his head back when he smelled the contents.

"I don't know, but it's probably better if you don't find out," Sam answered, setting the bottle down on an empty shelf.

Dean was still scowling at the taste in his mouth as he reached into the cooler again. This time he picked a bottle that he could see through. He chugged half the bottle before stopping for a breath. Finishing off the bottle, he grabbed a few more and shoved them into his duffel before going to find something to eat.

Sam wandered up and down the aisles as he waited for his brother. He had grabbed a bottle of water, but his appetite had long since deserted him. He kept an eye on the entrance and an eye on Dean as well. The man got distracted when it came to food, no matter what kind of trouble they were in. Currently he was stuffing a couple of candy bars into his jacket pocket while one dangled from his lips. Sam shook his head and went to wait by the front counter.

"You all set?" Sam asked Dean when he joined him.

"Yup," replied Dean, tossing his candy bar wrapper into the trash can by the door. He hefted his duffel and trudged to the door. It beeped again when he pushed it open.

Sam followed his brother out into the parking lot, watching him limp a little as they resumed their vaguely northward path. He sighed inwardly. Usually on a job he had at least some small idea of what was going to come next and what they should do about it. They were walking blind with only a key, an obscure poem, a drawing and a little girl's doll to help them figure things out. Not exactly confidence inspiring.

"Looks like this road is a dead end," Dean said, startling Sam from his thoughts.

Sam looked out at the abyss that stretched before them. Like a few other of the main roads, this one simply ended. It was almost like something had scooped the town up and placed it smack-dab in the middle of nowhere. Another plane of existence, even.

"Well, let's head back to the last intersection and try and different route," suggested Sam.

Dean nodded, turning back the way they came. Sam fell into step beside him.

"Seems odd that we haven't seen a single other human being besides Jesse," Dean said as they trudged back up the road.

"Yeah, but that seems a bit more odd," answered Sam, coming to a halt at the intersection. He pointed down at the cracked and chipped concrete to where a trail of blood led off in one direction.

"That wasn't there a few minutes ago…"

Sam's jaw tensed as he took a few steps forward. The streaks of blood were vivid and fresh, but they hadn't heard or seen anything. There must have been some sort of struggle to create this amount of blood.

When he looked up, he saw Dean was already heading up the road, following the trail of blood. Sam only had to take a few strides to catch up since his legs were much longer than his brother's. He glanced over at Dean, who was staring intently at the blood as he followed it, his brow creased deeply. He slowly drew his weapon, tipping his head slightly, listening. Sam couldn't hear anything yet, but pulled his weapon as well. The longer they followed, the darker and thinner the trail became, but eventually Sam heard what Dean was listening for; a faint scraping sound, like metal on concrete. It got louder as the blood trail grew faint. The trail eventually stopped at a dead and drained leg monster. It had been tossed aside, one set of legs bent over the other. The scraping sound continued, still growing louder as if it was coming toward them. They waited. Sam wasn't sure what was keeping him there. Was it his morbid curiosity or the ingrained need to help destroy the evil of the world?

When the source of the sound finally showed, Sam's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates. If someone had asked him what he felt, he honestly would not have been able to answer.

"What the hell…" Dean's voice was tight as he watched the figure that came into view at the opposite end of the alley. The monster was tall and muscular, wearing a pale leathery apron wrapped around its hips that obscured its legs and feet. Its chest was bare, pale and scarred, as were its arms. Its hands, both of which were currently occupied, were covered in bloodied surgical gloves. One carried a dripping corpse of some unfortunate being, the other wrapped around the grip of a comically oversized knife, the blade dragging on the ground behind him. None of that was as disturbing as the giant metal, pyramid-shaped helmet that looked like it had been bolted onto the man's head. It was elongated, hanging heavily off the wearer's shoulders like some sort of cruel medieval torture device. Whatever the man was now, it certainly wasn't human.

Sam took an involuntary step back as the horrifying pyramid-headed monster tossed the corpse it held aside like a sack of garbage. The thing continued to move steadily toward the brothers, its pace agonizingly slow under the weight of its weapon and helmet.

"Sam…?" Dean's voice was unsteady as he backed up.

Sam continued to take backward steps as he leveled his pistol with the monster's chest. He squeezed the trigger and buried the bullet right where the thing's heart should have been. It kept coming steadily toward them, now bringing his giant knife out beside him. He lifted it, straightening his arm so it and the weapon were parallel with the road. It twisted its torso, preparing to swing.

"Run!" Sam finally shouted, grabbing Dean's arm as he turned back in the direction they had originally come. He paced himself so that Dean remained in front of him while they sprinted back up the road. They bolted straight past the convenience store as well as a couple of other businesses and didn't stop until they found themselves in the narrow lobby of an apartment building.

Dean doubled over, his hands on his knees, panting. "What. The hell. Was that?" he asked between breaths. He leaned against the rows of mail boxes, his eyes darting toward the door.

"How am I supposed to know?" replied Sam, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. He wasn't out of shape by any stretch, but his legs were burning after the three-block sprint. He was satisfied they were safe for now because the pyramid-headed thing moved so slowly.

"How're we doing for ammo?" Dean eventually asked, standing up straight. "I'm down to my last couple of clips for the pistol."

"Me too."

Dean sighed. "I guess it'll have to do for now. As long as we don't run into Pyramid Head again."

"Is that what we're calling it?" Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Does it really matter what we call it?" Dean almost rolled his eyes at his brother as he headed down a long door-lined hallway. He checked each door as he came to it, but all of the ones on the first floor were locked. There was a staircase at the end of the hall as well as a fire exit. They took the stairs up to the next floor. The first door on the right side was ajar, so they pushed it open and entered the apartment. It looked pretty standard as far as apartments went, and nothing seemed out of place.

"Hello?" Sam called cautiously, his weapon ready just in case.

"Do you really think there's gonna be an answer?" Dean grumbled, moving down a short hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom.

"No, but just in case someone was here, I figured I'd announce myself and not get a bullet to the head," replied Sam, frowning as he pushed the bathroom door open. He immediately regretted doing so and closed the door again. "Find anything?" he asked Dean when he came back out of the bedroom.

Dean shook his head. "You?"

"Nothing but an inhumanly filthy bathroom. I wouldn't open that door if I were you…"

Dean made a face and led the way back out to the hall. On every floor they found more of the same. Locked doors and empty apartments. The top floor had a different layout than the other floors, combining four double sized apartments instead of the eight regular ones. One of the doors was locked, two were empty and the fourth had noises coming from inside.

The brothers exchanged a glance. "Does that sound like crying to you?" asked Sam.

"Yeah." Dean reached out and twisted the doorknob. The door was unlocked so they let themselves in. The foyer of the apartment was lined with family photos, a closet off to one side and a shoe rack on the other. The living room was big, a sectional pushed up against one wall opposite the flat screen television. They checked every corner of the room but no one was there, so they moved on to the kitchen. It too was empty. They could still hear the crying and it sounded like it was coming from everywhere. They listened hard, but still couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. Finally Sam announced their presence and the crying stopped abruptly. It was quiet for a moment and then they heard the creak of door hinges.

Sam tucked his pistol into his waistband and went down the hall. A door was sitting open at the end. "Are you okay?" he asked into the room. The crying person still hadn't shown themself. Sam let his eyes wander over the bedroom while he waited for an answer. It looked like a little girl's room, everything painted in various shades of pink.

Dean was getting impatient in the hallway, but Sam waited until he saw a hint of dark brown hair. He knelt down, setting his duffel on the floor.

"Are you alone here?" he asked when a tear-streaked face joined the hair.

"Do you know where my mommy and daddy are?" the little girl asked, wiping her hand across her face.

Sam sighed. "No, I don't."

The girl looked down at the floor. "Oh."

"Can you tell me your name?" he asked gently.

The little girl came out from behind the bed. She sniffed loudly. "Jessica," she said with a hiccup.

Sam offered her a smile, albeit a pained one. "Can I call you Jess?"

She nodded at him.

"Hi, Jess. My name is Sam and this is my big brother Dean," he introduced, motioning Dean into the room.

Jessica's eyes went wide when she spotted Dean's pistol.

Sam frowned at his brother. "Put your gun away, you're scarring her." He looked back at the girl. "It's okay, we aren't going to hurt you." Sam stood up and the little girl looked amazed by his height. At least, that was what he thought until she ran toward him and grabbed at his jacket. She stood on her tip-toes and was barely able to reach into his pocket. She pulled out the door, the key hitting the floor as she did so.

"Where did you find her?" she asked, hugging the doll and then Sam's legs

"In a car on the highway," Sam replied.

"I must have left her by accident!"

Dean was getting tired of standing around while the girl and his brother chatted like there wasn't anything weird going on. "You said you didn't know where your parents are. Where did you last see 'em?"

Jessica had one arm wrapped around Sam's leg and the other around her doll. She looked up at Dean, still wary of him. "We were walking to the hotel after the car broke. A bunch of men in red hoods took them away. They tried to get me too, but I ran."

"Do you know what they wanted you and your parents for?" Sam asked, looking down at her.

She shook her head and clutched at his leg a little more tightly.

Dean reached down and retrieved the key, handing it back to Sam. "We can't hang around here all day."

"I know, but…" be looked down at Jessica, who looked back at him with big brown eyes. She couldn't have been more than six or seven, and she was here all by herself. He didn't want to leave her here, but they couldn't take her with them, either. On the other hand, if they hadn't run into that monster, they probably wouldn't have met her.

"Look, I know what you're thinking Sammy, but we've got a job to do and we can't do it if we're babysitting." Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets and put his weight on his uninjured leg.

After an internal struggle, Sam disentangled Jessica's arms from his leg and squatted in front of her. She looked both confused and heartbroken as she met his gaze. He took her tiny hand in his and smiled at her.

"You aren't staying, are you?" she asked, her bottom lip trembling.

"Don't cry," he said, still smiling. "My brother and I are going to find your parents, okay? We can't do that if we stay here."

She gave a tentative little nod.

"How long have you been here by yourself?"

She furrowed her brow, thinking. "I think three days. I've been hiding here since mommy and daddy got taken."

"You're a very brave girl," Sam said to her. "Will you be able to stay by yourself a little longer?"

She nodded.

"You've got enough food?"

She nodded again.

"Good. I promise we'll be back as soon as we can." Sam stood up.

"And you'll find my mom and dad?" she asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

Sam's throat was tight. All he could do was nod. She didn't seem to notice his hesitation. Still holding her doll, she hugged Sam's legs tightly and then went over to Dean and looked up at him. He quirked a brow at her, but she hugged his legs too.

"Thank you, mister," she said, staring up at Dean. He swallowed hard, but bent down so he was eye level with Jessica.

"We'll try our best, kid, but this is a big town…" He started to say something else, but the little girl cut him off by planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I know you'll find them, 'cause you're both big and strong!" She smiled through the tear streaks on her face. Her spirits seemed to have been lifted by the not-quite-a-promise that they'd find her parents.

"Uh, yeah. Like I said, we'll do our best." Dean stood back up. "Just make sure you lock the door when we leave, okay?"

She nodded vigorously, clutching her doll.

With more empty promises and guarantees, Dean practically dragged Sam from the apartment. The door closed behind them and they heard a soft click of one of the locks. They walked silently back downstairs.

"You do know we probably won't find them, right?"

Sam nodded. He didn't need to be told that, but regardless of how things turned out, Sam was going back for the little girl. There was no way he could just leave her there to fend for herself.

"So, do you think that thing followed us?" Dean now asked, looking out onto the street.

Sighing, Sam shrugged. "Only one way to find out," he answered, pushing the heavy glass door open. He pulled out his gun again and looked up and down the street. "Looks clear to me."

Dean looked up and down the street as well, but he saw a couple of the armless men and a dog gnawing on something, wet fleshy sounds echoing on the still air. He frowned up at his brother. "Yeah, okay Rambo." Dean started off in the opposite direction of the creatures, hoping to get them back on track. They had been heading north toward the town orphanage, but had gotten seriously turned around after their encounter with Pyramid Head. Dean had no desire to have another encounter, so he took them in a wide, vaguely northward circle, staying as far away from the place they had run into him as possible.

Sam wasn't talking to him, but that wasn't worrying Dean. He was obviously thinking about the little girl, but he knew there was nothing they could do. She was safe where she was, and that was more than anyone could hope for in this town.