It was odd, Cole wouldn't lie. She shook her head and continued forward, not stopping until she was a good thirty paces from the hotel. Throughout the time she was investigating the south of the town, something in the back of her throat was tingling and her stomach was aching. Deciding against really giving it too much attention, she cotnued her walk around the place, asking people questions and interviewing a few so called "witnesses" of the Hydusa.

Dean smirked slightly, winking at the three women who had stopped to flirt with him oNn his way back to the hotel and glanced down at the three numbers in his hands. He'd barely even realized the time and when his phone chimed and Sam was asking where he was, he quickly checked to see the numbers on the top of the phone were six: twenty-three. Biting down on his lip, he gave a brief one-over his shoulder to the girls who waved flirtatiously back at him and he began his stroll back to the motel.

By the time he got there, Bobby and Sam were already comparing notes and the people they interviewed. Dean pulled the collar of his suit down as it had been choking him all day and loosened his tie before throwing down his own notepad of thoughts he had whilst interviewing the few he decided seemed worthy of his time. Glancing around, he turned to the men and shrugged, "Where's Cole?"

Bobby sighed heavily, adjusting the cap on his head and pointing out the window, "Parkin' lot. On the phone with her friend. Some guy called asking for her and gave me some fake-ass name which she knew immediately, I guess an alias or something."

Growling slightly as he immediately got the hint, Dean walked towards the window and brushed the curtain back to see Cole pacing back and forth in the parking lot with serious, furious hand gestures, and her hand raking her hair with infuriation which was clear on her face. Turning back to the guys, Dean mumbled, "She's... pissed."

"Yup," Sam sighed, "she's been out there for a good forty to fifty minutes."

Dean cracked his knuckles and nodded, tapping his foot and trying so hard to be patient before that wore thin and he swung his body around, "I'll go check on her," and before the other hunters could stop him, Dean Winchester was out the door.

"No, I- Wait a minute, you're the one who sai- Don't you turn this on me- I- Fuck yo- And you wonder why no one in your life sticks around!" She screamed into the microphone, undoubtly breaking the receiver's eardrum as a loud, angry voice echoed from the mike of her own phone. Dean got edgy quickly as he was a good ten or so yards from Cole as he leaned against the railing of the motel, her in the parking lot, and he could still hear her "friend"'s voice from there.

"Excuse me?" She snapped, "I've had it up to here with you M- I am not done speaking, Markus."

Even Dean looked up. The way she said it, with such ferocity and emotion, almost lethally, not only silenced the Markus dude who was obviously abusive buddy Mark, but definitely got Dean's interest. Never had he ever heard her use such a deadly tone with someone, not even in their fight, and the fact she had said it so sharply it sounded as if from a snake's mouth, kind of got his blood racing. It was slightly thrilling to him because A, Markus-douchewad was getting what he deserved, and B, he could totally picture her and him toge-

He snapped out of it. What the fuck. What the actual fuck. He shook his head, leaning onto the wall with heavier force than before as he rubbed his eyes, attempting to clear his head of the unholy mental image he'd gotten. Immediately blaming it on lack of sleep and those pretty ladies from earlier who had gotten him... excited, he tried to revert his attention back to the fatal voice of his friend. Just Dean's friend. Or at least he kept repeating in his head.

"I'm so sick of your crap, Markus, I mean it and I'm through with it. Don't talk to me again, don't come near me again, if you see me, don't try to associate with me again, and I hope you get the help you need for your alcohol issue. Goodbye."

Dean listened as Mark started up again, loud and obnoxious but she ended the call and pressed her hand against her forehead, looking to the ground as her eyes began to water. He couldn't see it though as her back was to him, but the motions she began to make with her arms as she wiped the stupid tears, or so she considered them, away. He furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head as he soon caught on to what was happening and swallowed. He walked down the stairs towards her and touched her arm gently, her instantly flinching and swinging around. If he weren't fast enough, he would've been hit in the face but based on the fact he'd grown up with and knew her, his hand instinctively caught her fist and brought it down. Her eyes were watered and though it was dark outside, the lights around the buildings definitely emphasized the fact her eyes were wet.

"Colette, I-"

"I'm fine, I s-swear, I just... had a rough conversation with someone from my past and I-I'm fine." She whispered quickly, not realizing he'd been listening in and dropping her head, "Go inside, it's cold, I'll be back later."

Dean tilted his head, "What?"

"I'll be back later, I'm going out." She repeated, getting slightly annoyed and just wanting to be left alone.

"Cole," He bit his lip trying to be as gentle as he could, "there's a monster out here that feeds off of negative energy and practically transforms the person into glass. I'm not letting y-"

"What is with you people telling me what I can and can't do?" She snapped, "First Mark spends years, years, telling me what to do and punishing me i-if I don't and th-then my dad with his bossy-a-ass attitude and I-" She broke down into her hands as she hid her face in them, "I can't-"

Colette turned away, swatting his hand when it tried to turn her back to him before she mumbled under her breath, "I'm going out."

And with that, she sort of walked/jogged towards her car, Dean calling after her before she jumped in, starting the engine, and raced towards the nearest bar.

The next morning, Dean was first awake out of the hunters. He'd been restless all night, on alert despite asleep waiting for the slightest of sound to jolt him from unconsciousness so he could make sure Cole was alright. Anything; a door opening, a door closing, a whimper, a laugh, the crashing sound of an alcohol bottle on the ground, car tires outside- something that'd imply she could have gotten home. As he rubbed his eyes clear of the exhaustion and fatigue that clung to his limbs as if thirty pound weights, Dean got an odd feeling in his stomach and removed his hands from his face. Too tired to think clearly and, seeing as he'd just pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes harshly to get rid of the sleepiness, his eyesight blurry, Dean shuffled out of his twin bed and dragged himself into the bathroom for a shower; more so to wake up than cleanse.

Walking in, Dean immediately turned on the shower and glanced in the mirror noticing huge, tired eyes and sighed. He stripped, wrapped a towel around his waist and then adjusted the shower, turning to the hottest it could and taking a step in. It wasn't normal and the heat of the shower was abnormal, most likely painful to the majority of humans, but Dean had gotten used to it. After Sammy had left for Stanford leaving Dean and his alcoholic-crazed father alone, Dean realized he was alone. Sure, he had Bobby but the old hunter was always on the move looking for new hunts and tag-teaming with his old pal Rufus. And you might even make the argument he had his father but the man was so lost in the liquor that Dean was surprised he hadn't collapsed from a liver malfunction. A doctor had even said after Dean rushed his old man into the ER one night when he went into anaphylactic shock.

Dean's father, John, had been complaining the liquor he'd been chugging for months was growing weak and needed something stronger, despite the fact the man'd been sucking on the end of a Fireball bottle for those months. Dean hadn't really wanted to go any higher than Fireball as it's already pretty heavy crap and now that his father wanted something with more alcohol made Dean concerned. So, balancing out his father's life with the scoldings he'd receive if he disobeyed his father's order, Dean stood his ground and refused to go out and get something more. Drunkenly, John picked a fight, swung his fist as it clashed with Dean's jaw, the younger Winchester only being twenty-three or so, and fell to the ground, and John quickly scurried out the door in search of something to satisfy his urge to brainwash him.

He'd surprisingly made it home in one piece. Dean was sitting on his bed in the shitty motel John had rented out with an icepack to his face and a scowl twisting his features. John shrugged it off, not caring much for the pain he'd caused his child as he sat back down on his bed and pressed the alcohol to his lips. The crap was so heavy in alochol, Dean didn't even recognize it. The bottle had some sort of shiny, Spanish sounding name to it but he gave up trying to figure out what type of liquor it was and watched as his father chugged it dry. Then, all at once, John fell to the ground and clutched his throat. Dean would later figure out John had an allergy to something in the alcohol, what it may being he wasn't sure, and was rushed into hospital.

Hours after the incident, Dean returned to the motel. He didn't want to stay with his father and sure as hell didn't want to answer the questions he was positive the doctors would chuck at him, so slid into Baby and flipped the key, turning her on and speeding home. As he sat on his bed that night, his feet on the ground, his elbows on his knees and his hands holding his face, he realized he was truly alone. It was too late now to leave John based soly on the fact his father had raised him so beautifully into becoming a professionally trained attack-dog, Dean couldn't go. Something in his gut denied any request sent to his legs from his brain to get them moving and he found himself sitting on the bed, waiting expectantly for his father to walk through the door. He knew John wasn't leaving the hospital for quite some time, but there he sat waiting.

It angered him how much his father had impacted his life. Because of the fact Dean was so much like John, he'd lost Cole, he'd lost Sammy, and he'd probably end up losing himself because of a pride his father had taught him to have. He'd probably get himself killed talking back to a monster rather than taking the strategic way out like Sammy or Colette would do. Because unlike them, Dean couldn't help but mold into what John wanted him to be. And now John was gone too, and despite it being for a short time, it didn't make matters better. Dean had watched how simple it was for his father to be killed. Ignoring the hard exterior he had, John was just like everyone else. Hunters honored the man and thought he was one of the best of their time, but Dean knew better.

And all John Winchester was, is a vunerable alcoholic with a beer in one hand, a pistol in his other, and a bunch of nonsense spurring from his mouth.

Thoughts and feelings and emotions clouded his brain, blurred his vision, and hitched his breath to the point where he had to stand and shake it off. Seeing as that didn't work, Dean walked to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. When that cleared things up a bit, he decided to take a shower- that should calm him down. He waited a few minutes and stepped in, the warm water hitting his skin. It didn't do much though and the those agonizing thoughts came tip-toeing back into his brain, so he turned the water hotter. His hand was still twisting the knob, tilting it so far to the left it had done a three-sixty, and stopped. The boiling water hit his skin like hail, making him hiss and tense but because the heat was so soothing and welcoming as it took his mind off of the outside world and everything about it, he kept it hot.

And because of that event, Dean always turned the shower as hot as he could and would stand there, taking it. Because it proved to him he was still alive, he was still breathing and could feel. He knew the second that hot water didn't feel as painful as it typically did, something'd be wrong. He also did it because it usually took his mind off of the world around him, the world where people were slaughtered by werewolves and drained by vampires and the world where he couldn't save everyone.

So, there Dean stood, letting the hot pellets pierce his skin and burn his limbs but it didn't seem as hot as it had the first time he took a hot shower, or the second or third. He assumed over time his body had gotten use to the high temperature, but dismissed the thought as he grabbed the soap and shampoo and absentmindedly cleaned himself.

When he got out, the bathroom was filled with so much steam he had to scrub at the mirror for a few seconds before he could see himself clearly. Of course the section he wiped had fogged up after a good minute or so, but he ignored it and followed through with his morning routine before heading back out with wet hair and sweats. Sam stirred in his sleep and announced his awakening with a gasp, his arm jolting to the side in search of his brother like Sammy did when they were younger and he had nightmares. Sam, when he was a child, would always awaken with a horrific scream and throw his arm to his side, it meeting Dean's arm that always hung off the bed just in case Sam needed to grab onto it. From there, Dean would wake up and soothe him back to sleep, that sometimes meaning having Sammy share his bed with him.

With the force Sam had stabbed his arm out, his body rolled off the couch and he shot up, breathing heavily and frantically looking around. Dean was next to him in an instant and for a moment all Sam needed was to have Dean's arms around him, reminding him he was right there, and so that's what the older brother did. When he pulled away, Sam glanced at the clock and regulated his breathing again before sighing and taking the words from Dean's mouth, "Jess."

Dean nodded and guided Sam to the bathroom so his younger brother could wake himself up and in instinct from when Dean was a child, he turned to the floor to wake Cole up. Then he saw she wasn't there. Panic flooded his gut and he thought back to last night. Surely she had come home. She had to have... He tried to think and tried to remember if she had came through the door last night, but nothing came back to him. He growled deeply, running his hand through his wet hair and shaking Bobby awake. The man grunted in disturbance and swatted the twenty-six year old away, Dean murmured a curse and hissed, "You're daughter's missing."

Bobby snarled and swatted his hand away again, "No she's not, you diva, she's right there." He mustered up enough strength to lift his arm over to the couch and as Dean turned he made out the small silhouette of Cole.

Through his blind panic, Dean had failed to realize the back-cushion of the loveseat had been taken off so it could fit Cole and she and Sam had shared the loveseat for the night. The Singer sat curled in a ball with a lousy, thin blanket swung over her and a fluffy pillow Sam quite obviously gave up under her head. Bobby grumbled something under his breath and closed his eyes again as Dean stared blankly at Cole. She seemed tinier than she was when awake, vunerable and child-like. Not that she was a child in anyway, but Dean couldn't help but see the resembalance to when she was younger. She always was curled in that position when sleeping and he always found it to be one of the funniest things she'd do because she always made herself into a ball-shape and close her eyes. Now that he saw her though, matured and adult-like, he realized that it didn't seem funny anymore but cute.

He sighed heavily, deciding it was time for a coffee as his mind was clearly still half asleep and thinking absurd thoughts and shuffled to the kitchen. Dean turned on the coffee machine, getting the coffee cups and waited as it brewed, his head drifting. They'd been in Georgia for a good eleven days now and quite frankly he was getting fed up with this Hydusa case. Three more victims had been found sprinkled around their crime scenes since they'd showed up and they weren't any closer to ganking this thing than they were a few days ago.

By the time Sammy got out of the shower, everyone was awake and moving. Colette had her hair in her pony-tail, her sharp green eyes casted by thick, dark eyelashes, and a nice pair of jeans with a Metallica shirt on. She was tying her shoes from the couch, glancing up and offering a short smile to Sam as he returned the gesture. Dean was hacking into the coroner's reports from the computer, his hair dry and fluffed upwards in his usual crew-cut hairstyle, plain jeans with a flannel and Dad's iconic jacket next to him. Bobby had his baseball cap on, his usual attire and was reading up on some lore and was mumbling off some curses at the book.

The entire scene made Sam chuckle. It was so... hunter-ish, like something he'd expect from a hunters' bar in Nevada or South Dakota he couldn't help but shine his grin as he threw on a shirt and flannel and looked up to the others, "So, what's on the agenda?"

Dean glanced up, "You and I are going to meet up with the coroner and take a closer look at the remaining pieces from the victims. Bobby's goin' to meet up with some old hunter buddies of his that live around here and Cole's gunna scope the town and look for anyone suspicious. Probably try to get some more information on this creature too if she can. Then, tonight I think we should all go looking for the Hydusa because it seems like the majority of the deaths are committed after sunset."

Bobby and Sam both bobbed their heads in agreement, but Cole sighed and stood, shrugging her shoulders and disagreeing, "I can't. I have plans tonight."

It was short and simple and got her point across but it also made Sam and Dean and Bobby turn. She thought for a mere second that lame answer would suffice but knowing her father and the boys she'd grown up with, she'd barely scratched the tip of the iceberg with the crap they wanted to know. Almost immediately, they were all asking questions. All three were echoeing the same questions basically, and she sighed heavily once more and shut them up, "Date. I've got a date tonight with a guy and no, he's not a hunter so don't ask and yes, I will be safe and no, I will probably not be back by ten."

They all stood dumbfounded for a second before they broke out into nonsense- Sam blabbering crap about this guy possibly being the Hydusa and how he could be unsafe, Dean arguing that it wasn't safe to even be outside with this thing running wild and the guy was probably a dick, and Bobby just down-right telling her she wasn't going. Tuning them out, Colette bent back down and continued tying her laces, humming a soft tune to herself as they all blindly argued and walked out the door once she was finished. Of course they attempted to follow her, telling her it was a stupid idea and that hunters don't date but she waved them off and saluted them goodbye.

Date. What was the hell was she thinking? Dean growled softly to himself as Sam glanced over at him from the passenger's side of the car. The guy was probably a complete asshole. Was it that surfer dude? Oh god, if it was that surfer dude- Dean growled deeper, his fists clenching the wheel as his thoughts raced. She'd go out with some surfer dude that probably smoked pot every other hour and most likely didn't know what a barber was over someone like hi- someone else. And, he's not a hunter! Sam had already tried dating someone oblivious to their world and looked what happened. Had she not learned anything? His fists tightened harder on the steer-wheel as he thought. What if the guy gets to handsy? What if she gets too handsy? What if things escalate and they-

Dean practically swerved back into the lane, his heart thumping. Sam sat in passenger's shocked, staring at his brother with confusion. Dean had almost hit a fucking tree too lost in his thoughts to notice the world around him. Seeing his brother's gaze on him though, Dean glanced in his direction as acknowledgement and apologies for almost getting them killed and continued to drive. When Sam asked if he was alright, Dean replied with a simple, sour "Perfect," and pressed the gas harder.

"There's no good reasoning to what happened." The coroner said as he led the brothers into the lab, "Everything, their organs, their skin, it's all stone. Of course this does happen every ten years, why, I can't explain, but every ten years good people, people I know, are turned to statues."

"And have you noticed anything weird with them before they... were turned?" Sam asked as he glanced at Dean who seemed to be else where.

"Not out of the ordinary. I mean, Melissa was acting slightly strange the night before she... passed, but that was her usual self."

"Alright, well thank you anyway."

The short man nodded and headed out, telling them if they needed anything to holler, and shut the door behind him.

"The hell is wrong with you, man?" Sam asked as he glared at Dean who's eyes darted to Sam's, shocked.

"What?"

"You've been acting strange ever since this morning. What's wrong?"

"Oh, pft, nothing. Just... thinking about the case, that's all. Well, what do we have here." Dean said quickly, reverting his attention to something else in hopes he could subtly change the topic, "Human jigsaw puzzles."

Sam sighed, turning Dean around, "Dean, you need to talk to me. You almost crashed Baby. Y'know, your beloved and most cherished 67' Chevy Impala? Dude, to this day, besides myself, you, and Dad, no one's driven her because you refuse to let them, and you were this close to shattering her entire front exterior."

Dean waved his brother off, "I got distracted. It won't happen again, now can we get back on topic?"

"Dean, I-"

"Sam, I'm telling you to lay off."

Sam furrowed his eyebrows at his brother's defensiveness and huffed under his breath. Dean only got defensive when he was scared. Shaking his head and staring at his brother with a puzzled look, Sam let out a heavy breath and grabbed the file the corner left, flipping it open, and beginning to read. And then something happened that made both of the brothers' heads turn.

The stone pieces turned to flesh and bone.