The hunt begins now. Major, major thanks to Revanatio for the hunt pick. As for Rogue and maron771121, both of your ideas were great, thank you both, but Rev's sparked in my mind and it just flowed easier. As previously promised, all three of you will be in these chapters as the following: Kai Creo-Revanatio; Rain Hurts-Rouge; and Callisto Jenkins-maron771121.

I hope you guys like it. Enjoy. The next chapter will be much longer, FYI.

I climbed out of the Impala, following Dean. The minute we pulled up, the front door of the house opened and out walked a surely man with deep, chocolate, curly brown hair. He was decked out in full uniform, equip with gun and all. "Dean," he declared, a sort of awkward grin on his face. "How you been, boy?"

"I'm alright. Dakota, this is Lori. Lori, this is Dakota Jenkins, he's a friend of Bobby's," Dean explained as he shook Dakota's hand. Dakota gave a curt nod my way, "Hello there. You must be a hunter too."

"I'm not quite there yet but I'm working on it," I took his extended hand in a grip. He nodded, "Well you're with the right man to help you with that. Dean here saved all our asses."

Receiving my questioning glance, Dean mumbled, "A succubus a couple a years back."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Well. Come on in. Callisto's making pancakes if you're hungry," Dakota led us into his home. Immediately upon entered the house, the smell of syrup entered my nose. My stomach rumbled in response, "Who's Callisto?"

"My daughter." We followed Dakota into the kitchen where a tall girl with stringy brown hair was hovering over a stove top, flipping pancakes. Every spare space of counter top was covered with powdered sugar, strawberries, blueberries, syrups, and pancake batter. She glanced over at us but otherwise pretended like we weren't there. Dean pulled a chair out from the table, taking a seat, "What've you got for us?"

"Two locals, Logan Greene and Carter Wilmot, died this passed week. Both men were found in their homes, cut up like they'd been hacked to death. Odd thing is, there was no evidence of the murder. No prints, hairs, fibers, nothing. It was a spotless crime scene-"

"I told you, dad, it's probably just some wack-job serial killer with extreme OCD," Callisto spoke, shuffling about the kitchen. Dakota snorted at his daughter, "That's what we thought at first. But when I went back and reviewed the file, the autopsy reports stated that both victims didn't die from blood loss."

"Then how'd they die?" I question, cocking a brow.

"They both drown in their own blood."

"That is disgusting," I gasped, cringing at the strikingly vivid mental image that popped into my mind. A man, laying, his body mangled and torn apart. Blood dripping from his mouth, his chin, teeth, and lips covered in the thick, crimson liquid. As I said, the picture was…vivid.

"Oh that is definitely not normal," Dean mumbled. Callisto had apparently finished cooking whilst I had my repulsive daydream, because she was piling food onto various plates and slamming them down on the table. Dakota took a seat across from Dean and motioned for me to sit. Doing so, I listened as he spoke, "Yep. And in both cases, all doors and windows were locked from the inside. I thought it sounded like your kinda work."

"Who found them?"

"Logan's girlfriend found him in his office slumped over the desk. Carter's son found him on the couch when he got home from school."

"He was freaked," Callisto mumbled placing a plate in front of me. Thanking her, I asked, "You know him?"

"I go to school with Travis. He was completely freaked all week."

"How so?" Dean focused his gaze on the young girl.

"He found his uncle dead in their house. What do you mean how so? He thinks something's after him," Callisto snapped. She dropped down in the chair across from mine and proceeded to take a bite of pancakes. Dean shifted, "He thinks something's after him? Why?"

"Travis goes home, finds his uncle slaughtered in the living room, all doors locked. He thinks whoever did it knew how to weasel in without leaving a trace and get out with no one seeing. Like I said, he's freaked."

"It's understandable," I mumbled hesitant to eat. Callisto wasn't exactly radiating hospitality but Dean and Dakota seemed un-phased. Together, the trio started eating, still chit-chatting about the attacks. I leaned back in my chair and began to think. The pattern sounded familiar. Which was alarming. I thought back to previous hunts the Winchesters' had been on. As I did so, I glared at the stack of pancakes before me. Food didn't seem like a good idea at the moment. Apparently, Callisto noticed, "Is there something wrong with the food?"

"What? Oh, sorry no. I was just thinking. Dakota, where any organs missing?"

"Organs?" the scruffy, mountain-man asked. I nodded, "Organs. From the victims."

"You mean the heart," Dean spoke. "You think it's a deva?"

"Could be," I shrugged. But Dakota shook his head 'no', "All the organs were intact, heart and all."

"So that's a no on the deva," I muttered, slightly disappointed.

"Not necessarily. We've only worked with devas once. I don't know that much about them. They might not always take the heart-" Dean counter; I cut him short, "You're right. Because Meg was controlling them. She made them go after the hearts so she could use them in her rituals to contact Azazel."

Dean glanced at Dakota, "Did these two have any common enemies you might know about? Maybe a common ex-girlfriend or a pissed off business partner?"

"Greene and Wilmot lived on opposite sides of town; and Portland's a big town. As far as I know they've never even met. Sorry I can't be of more help," Jennings frowned. He stood from the table taking his empty plate to the sink. Callisto peered after her father. She seemed to lose her appetite then, stood, and began to clear the table. "Are you going to eat?" she snapped hovering over me. I shook my head, "No, thank you."

Callisto scoffed and snatched up my plate. I flinched in response causing a quiet chuckle to rise from Dean. I shot him a glare. My brunette traveling partner simply smirked and looked passed me, "Dakota, can you get us the case files for both murders?"

"Sure thing."

"And we'll need the autopsy reports. Plus any criminal records on either."

"Can do."

"Thanks, Dakota," Dean stood. With a few more words and a quick 'see ya later', Dean and I were packing into the Impala. "We'll get a room then meet Dakota at the library."

"Ooh, research time. This is the fun part right?" I quipped sarcastically.

"Damn straight." Dean and I drove across Portland, down the main highway, to the nearest hotel. A Motel 6 in West End Portland. I followed Dean inside, the bell chiming as we entered. "I'm a little sketchy. Remind me what deva's do again?" Dean mumbled as we waited at the desk of the empty lobby. I snorted, rolling my eyes at him, "You were there, Dean."

"Yeah but that was…God, six years ago? Probably more. Your dreams started three years ago. They're fresher," he reasoned, shrugging. Impatiently, he leaned over the counter glancing around for a bell hop. He dinged the bell and called, "Hello?! Anybody home?!"

"Deva…they're controlled by alters. It's dark, old magic. They aren't just shadows, they're invisible and the only thing you can see is their shadow-" I began, my hands involuntarily moving as I spoke. Dean nodded along, "Right. Right. But how do we stop them? I mean, we destroyed that bitch's alter but they showed up again."

"Maybe because Meg didn't die like you thought?" I offered. "She still lives, she recreates the alter, and sends them after your family…how in the hell are we going to track whoever is controlling them down?"

"No idea," the eldest Winchester replied, but fell short as a small, mousy man emerged from the back. "Hi there. We need a room."

"Alrighty," the balding man grinned. "One room, coming right up." His cheery tone caused Dean to wince and give a mocking, twitchy smile in return. The motel employee was too busy twittering around with his paperwork to notice, thankfully. He whizzed around, picking up papers, jotting things down before he halted in front of the small desk-top computer. Typing slowly, he grinned, "Here we are. One king. You're total comes to-"

"Oh, uh," Dean stammered, a small blush rising in his cheeks. "No, we, uh, we need two queens."

"Oh, sorry," the man shook his head, frowning. "We're quite booked. Our only rooms left are one-bed rooms. I just assumed that wasn't a problem."

"Oh, um, we'll we co-" I stuttered; neither Dean nor I had the appropriate response for this awkward topic. Dean shrugged, "We could go to the next one. Check it out?"

"Uh, sure," I nodded.

"Oh, come on now. The closet hotel that won't cost two-hundred a night is forty miles away. I'm really sorry about the mix up but I'll give you two a discount, how's that?" an eerie silence filled the lobby. Dean and I did the awkward shift-glances until finally Dean mumbled, "Uh…do you…mind? I don't fight in my sleep." He gave a boyish grin and I couldn't help but smile back. Facing the mousy man, I nodded, "What's the total?"

He seemed pleased with himself for persuading us to stay. The desk hop gave us a twenty dollar off deal for the duration of our stay and our total came to fifty bucks a night. Dean rented our room out for three nights but told him we made need more, "We're visiting some family…my uncle. Not sure how long I can last without my cousins driving me crazy." Dean gave an honest, yet not, chuckle and handed over the credit card. The man took the card, and entered the pin slowly into the computer. He paused and grinned as the results popped up onto the screen. "Here you are, Mr. Campbell."

"Thanks," Dean took the card and we departed for the car. "Room ten-eight."

"Mr. Campbell?" I asked as we lugged our bags into the hotel room. Dean grinned proudly, dropping his bags on the right side of the bed closest to the bathroom. That left me with the left side of the bed so I placed by bags by the window and plopped down. Dean, still grinning, nodded, "Bruce Campbell. Great actor. Ever see the movie The Evil Dead?"

"Nope."

"Evil Dead II?"

"Nuh uh."

"The Army of Darkness?"

"No," I gave a laugh. "Why?"

"Bruce Campbell played Ash Williams in the Evil Dead movies and Army of Darkness TV show. He was a hunter of sorts. He only killed demons though. Still, the man was pretty bad ass."

"So all of your aliases are double-standards?"

"Of course."

Curious, I muttered, "Are any of mine?"

Dean instantly broke out in a wide smile. Nodding, he replied, "Alexis Young after Angus Young from-"

"AC/DC. Nice. I never would have made that connection."

"Well I am a man of genius," the brunette waved his arms motioning his tall physique. Snorting, I rolled my eyes, "Clearly."

Suddenly, a techno ringing sounded throughout the room. Dean retrieved his phone from his pocket. "Hello? Yeah. Yeah okay. Meet you there." He snapped the silver phone shut and jammed it back in place. Grabbing up his jacket, which I failed to notice he'd taken off, he nodded towards the door. "Come on. Dakota's at the library."

"Do you know how to get there?"

"It's a library; not gonna be that hard to find. He said it was downtown somewhere."

"Yeah, Dean, downtown Portland. Which, you know, is kinda huge."

"Shut up, Lori, and get in the car." Snorting a laugh, I raised my palm in salute, "Yes sir."

After driving all around Portland and went to two libraries, neither of which were correct, before I finally convince Dean to put his pride aside and call Dakota for directions. He refused to admit that he was lost and stuck with, 'I did it so you'd shut up.' When we got to the library, Dakota was waiting outside, leaning against his police car. Dean parked two spaces down and together, we traipsed inside. "Hello, Officer Jenkins, what can I help you with today?"

"Nothing, Shelia, thanks," he nodded his uncapped head towards the librarian carrying a heavy-looking stack of hardbacks. Dean's cop friend led us back to a mass of computers in the south east wing of the large building. He walked over to a secluded cove and dropped three thick files onto the table. It mad a loud thud as it collided with the wooden table top. "Here they are. Each victim's file, coroners reports included, and this file," Dakota picked up the manila folder on the bottom. "I had my secretary compile. It's all the news clippings from the passed two months. I doubt it will help but hey-"

"No, this is great, Dakota," Dean clamped a hand on the man's shoulder, already thumbing through one of the files. I pulled out a chair, plopped down, and took the other folder. The file belonged to Logan Greene. Or, did, should I say. A mug shot was stapled to the first page accompanying his short rap sheet; two late paid speeding tickets, one minor DUI just after his twenty-first, and a fine for failing to appear in court for the second traffic ticket. Logan Greene. Born November 3, '78. 6'2". 179 lbs. Perfectly healthy, prior to his death. Apparently he had no known living relatives and lived with his girlfriend Kai Creo. They shared an apartment on the north side of the city. My eyes scanned the following few pages, looking for anything that Dean, Sam, or Bobby would think to look into. A quiet sigh left my lips and I leaned back. I glanced to my left, Dean and Dakota were talking in hushed tones; Dean's ever suspicious eyes darting around the semi-crowded book center. Finally, he gave a curt nod. Dakota glanced my way, "Nice to meet you. I'll see you two later."

"Bye," I called at the retreating lawman. Dean let his file drop, newspaper articles and clippings cascading out the sides. "Hand me that file." Picking up the Carter Wilmot folder, I passed it to the Winchester boy. When he took the papers from my grasp, our fingers brushed, that odd sensation momentarily returning. Dean seemed to not notice and pulled out a particular page. "Alright, I'm going to go talk to Carter's wife…uh, Hillary, I think. Try and talk to his son too. I need you to stay here and run these names." He dropped a piece of scribbled on paper. "Dakota said these are all the occultists, atheists, and crazy religious people in town. Maybe one of them did it. You know, extract some kind of revenge. Could be like that one faith healer's wife who was controlling a reaper."

"When you got hurt?" I asked, the hunt sounded vaguely familiar. Dean nodded, folding the information page and stuffing it away. "Will you be okay here? You've got your phone, right?"

"Got it," I held out the small cellular. "What exactly do I look for?"

"Anything…everything," he chuckled slightly. "I'll call you in about an hour."

Two minutes later, Dean was gone and I was collecting all the stray papers. Collecting them, I stacked the folders and prayed no one asked to look at them. There is no way I would be able to think of an excuse. Reseating myself, I lifted the list of names and opened up a Google search page. "Time to get down to business. Let the mind-numbing begin."