Sorry I haven't updated in like forever.

My Muse has been taking me other places.

Like my FictionPress account.

Anyway, thanks for waiting.

Sam and Dean sat on a couch, waiting.

A moderately tall brown haired man walked in, "Hi. My name's Mike. And you are…?"

"Sam and Dean O'Harrold," Sam said standing up, "We're from the Rose Press. We heard from someone you had some information on the Fog murder."

The man shook his head, "It was so tragic. They were such good people. But I've got nothing. Wait, one of my sons used to hang around with their daughter. Maybe he could tell you something."

"Well every little bit helps," Dean said, mentally gritting his teeth this was getting nowhere. "Maybe we'll get something useful."

"Okay, I'll get him for you. Ange!" he hollered up the stairs.

No response.

"Come on let's go get him." Mike said.

They went up the stairs to a wood-paneled hallway. They went down the hall a bit, and the man pushed open a door and the trio went into the room.

Dean looked around. White walls, white wooden bunk bed, blue comforter, sports posters, and it seemed like a normal room.

"Hey Ange, these guys are reporters. They'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened to Jessica."

Dean watched as the kid on the bed turned his head to look at his father, while Sam looked around in confusion from the room, to the kid, to his father.

The short brown-haired kid stared at his father with his light brown eyes. They seemed to flash green for a moment.

Out of nowhere Dean had a sudden urge to go back to the inn and start boozing up. To lose himself in the comforting haze of drunkenness. Well he might as well go nothing interesting here. He started to walk out but something anchored him there. He tried to get away, but the force holding his arm wouldn't let go.

Sam started panicking. What was wrong with Dean? He had been acting strange ever since the kid with the weird blurry face and room looked at him.

Dean pulled again, on the verge of tears trying to get away. Sam looked at him in horror.

His big brother, his protector, was crying trying to get away from his grip. What was happening? His panic mounted, and he sucker-punched his brother right in the face.

WHACK!

Dean stumbled backwards. "What was that for you little bitch?"

"Dean, I think this kid just pulled some mojo on you."

"Well it seems like the cat's out of bag."

They both turned to the kid. His lips hadn't moved when he spoke.

His body seemed to steam for a moment, and then the boy's face seemed to melt away, leaving another obscured face in its place. The tendrils of steam uncurled and drifted to the walls, hungrily crawling along. Soon the entire room was covered in a thin layer of gaseous mist.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean nearly shouted.

The figure's finger moved to its lips with clear meaning. Shut up.

The mist began to dissolve and when it cleared the brothers' eyes widened.

The room was completely changed.

The walls were black and plastered with posters of bands. Occult objects were scattered everywhere, and there was a small altar in the corner. A bookcase stuffed with books, occult and otherwise. But when Dean eyes fell upon the boy again, his breath caught.

The kid had long black hair, streaked with blonde. He wore tight black jeans, with a black studded belt. Chains hung from the belt, and he wore a black shirt with skulls on it.

And he was drop dead sexy.

Dean was straight and he thought that. Pretty impressive.

Dean shook his head. What was up with him today?

He turned to look at his brother to see him gaping at the boy lustily as well. Had the both suddenly gone gay?

The boy smiled at them mischievously, "Oh sorry. I forgot how much I affect normal people. Wow. It's kinda strange to have two apparently straight guys gaping at me like they want to get in my pants. Well anyway…"

Again the mist curled around his body, groping at him hungrily. (Not like that, you pervs.) His glow seemed to diminish, leaving two gaping men now paralyzed by horror.

"I just… You just… What the hell did you do?!" Dean shouted at him angrily.

"Hey, calm down. It's not like it's my fault. I'm just naturally attractive. In a magical sort of way." The boy grinned.

"You made us… Oh forget it." Sam said wearily, "Let's just ask our questions, or kick his ass, and then ask some questions."

"I'm all for the kicking his ass part," Dean raged, "he made us... attracted to him. And we're straight. That's not cool, you little bastard."

"I know. But it wouldn't have worked if something wasn't already there," Dean gaped, and the boy laughed, so familiar, but Dean couldn't quite place it, "I'm kidding. But you should have seen the look on your face. Priceless."

For the first time Sam noticed the gouges across the boy's face. "Where'd you get those cuts, messing with forces you can't control? You know your soul's going to get taken, and all you got was a few measly revenges. That's what you get for worshiping demons."

The boy's eyes hardened, "I'm in control of all my forces, thank you very much. And I don't worship demons. That would be stupid and pointless," the boy stood up and his voice rose to a shout, "how dare you accuse me of something like that? And how do you know about demons anyw-," his eyes met Dean's. A rush of images ran through Dean's head. Suddenly the rush stopped, leaving the scene of a filthy room with a makeshift barricade against the wall.

Oh no, Dean thought with growing dread, don't make me see this, don't let me relive that horrible moment.

A blonde woman sat in the middle of the room tied to a chair.

"No!" she screamed, "It wasn't real, I didn't kill them. It was the drugs. Please," she sobbed, "you have to believe me."

Dean watched in horror as he continued to interrogate the girl, then watched as he and his brother killed the poor girl. Poor Lucy. But she was a danger to everyone around her. There was nothing else he could have done.

Something snapped and he was thrown back into reality. He fell to his knees, body racked with silent tears of shame.

"Hunters!" the boy shrieked in hatred, "I should have known!"

How was that?

It was the longest chapter I've ever written.

It just kind of poured out, sorry if it was too long.

And just to avoid confusion, Jessica Fog is TOTALLY different from that girlfriend of Sam's who got her stomach cut open.

Thanks for reading, please review.