Part 2

The two men walked into the completely empty bar. Sam had noticed that all three cases occurred along the same route and seemed to be heading south. They decided to follow suit. Their first stop was a small town that contained only a shop, hairdressers, a sheriff's office and a bar. The bar man was polishing glasses that had just been washed.

"Quiet night?" Dean leaned on the counter and ordered a shot of whiskey.

The bar man gave a muffled laugh. "Two local kids just got engaged. They're having a party at their house tonight."

"And everyone's invited?" he threw the drink back the shot.

"It's a small town," the man shrugged picking up another glass. "Of course, I suppose Bob won't be going to it."

"Who's Bob?" both men asked and glanced at each other.

The bar man nodded up the street. "Bob Ewell. He's lived here nearly ten years and until recently he was in practically the town gossip. Now, he's just a loner. He mainly keeps himself to himself." Sam turned to Dean and shrugged. It was their first possible lead.

Dean stopped the car in front of the house. It was in darkness except for one small reading light in the front room. They both stepped out and quietly closed the doors behind them. Sam went to the boot and took out two shotguns giving one to his brother. They nodded to each other and quickly swept the inside of the house. Nothing was disturbed and everything was immaculate. They came out the back door at the same time. "Maybe this is a dead end," Dean whispered. "He could have gone to the engagement party for all we know."

But Sam's eyes were elsewhere and Dean followed his gaze. About a hundred metres from them was a large wooden hay barn. The front door was hanging open and as they got closer, they could hear hushed voices coming from inside.

Dean entered from the front. The first thing he saw was a grey haired man lying on his back on the ground. The second thing he saw was a thin young man standing over him.

The young man looked up and smiled. "Dean Winchester," the words quietly left his mouth. "Out of all the hunters to follow me, I didn't think it'd be you."

Dean lowered his gun and narrowed his eyes. The man was tall but young. Dean guessed him to be in his late teens. His features were dark and not recognisable. "I'm sorry. Do we know each other?"

The man stepped away from the now cold body and smirked. "We've met each other once or twice before," he nodded. "To be honest, I thought you'd make an exception with me."

Dean raised his gun in front of him again and steadied his aim. He cocked his head. "Well if you really did know me, you'd know I never make exceptions especially when it comes to the killing of innocent people."

The man laughed. "That's funny, Dean. I forgot how funny you are."

"So, how about you refresh my memory before I kill you? How do we know each other again?"

The man had barely opened his mouth when he could hear breathing behind him. He turned just as Sam raised a penknife in the air. The man grabbed it by the blade and pulled it away cutting his hand in the process. He then hit Sam in the chest with an open fist shoving him deep into the high hay stack. Dean threw his arms around the man's neck but was thrown over his shoulders. The wind was knocked out of him as he hit the floor hard. He saw the man quickly look over his shoulder then suddenly disappear into thin air.

The barn door swung open and Dean heard heels rush inside. He turned on his side and rolled around onto his stomach. Then, using his hands, he pushed himself up on his knees. "Dean? What the hell are you doing here?" a female stood in front of him. Dean turned his head and looked to her brown soft pumps. His eyes then followed up her tight skinny jeans and up to a face that he recognised immediately. She looked older than he remembered but still the same. "Are you working this case too?" he pulled himself up on his knees and brushed the dirt away from his hands. Sam slid down the hay stack and nodded a hello to Stacy.

"Are you guys okay?" she smiled at him. He nodded and rubbed his chest. She could tell he was lying but her attention was taken away when she heard the whispers behind her. The butterflies in her stomach immediately told her what was coming next. She looked back to the two men who were now slowly trying to get to their feet. There wasn't enough time to explain to them what was about to happen. "Turn around and close your ears," she ordered.

Dean and Sam looked at each other and back to her.

"Shut your eyes and close your ears now," she said again.

"Why?" Sam asked slowly.

"Just do it," she shouted and they reluctantly complied.

The door swung open and a gust of wind blew in. "Use your quiet voice," she told the empty space. "They can't hear you." A flash of blinding white light engulfed the room and as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

"Ever since I first met Raphael," she told Dean after he asked how long she's been able to see an angel's true form. "Or maybe I could see them before that but just didn't know what to look for."

They sat in front of her in a small motel room that reminded her of their first meeting. Only this time, Dean was nursing a sore arm and Sam had some bruised ribs. "So, what do they really look like?" Sam wondered and she smiled.

"You know those pictures that show angels in long flowing white gowns and beautiful white wings?" She waited for him to nod. "We'll, they're the complete opposite of that." She remembered seeing her first angel. He was black as the night and had a rottweiler head that drooled when it spoke. She told them she could see hell hounds and even told them that when angels are in their vessels, she can see a light surrounding them. "It seems the longer they hang around earth, the weaker their light is. Cas used to have a weak light but he brightened up when he got his grace back."

She shook her head. "There's thousands of them... just standing there... watching us. After Raphael came to me, I went up to as many I could see asking them for help... but they all said they couldn't interfere unless they were given a direct order." Sam watched her stare off into the distance. "So much for angels answering your prayers."

Dean stood and threw his towel against the wall. Sam and Stacy glanced at each other. They could both tell he was angry and knew why. "Dean," his brother tried to calm him, "knowing this wouldn't have changed anything. Even if we could see angels or hell hounds before they came, her abilities weren't strong enough to take them on her own. She was just as human as the rest of us."

The older brother turned about, his jaw clenched and his hands gripping his hips tightly. "Is there anything else you want to get off your chest before we finish off this case?" he growled.

She looked at him under his eyes and rolled her shoulders back. Sam cocked his head when she sighed. He knew she was hiding something. "That guy you're chasing?" she took a deep breath in before speaking again. "It's my son, Connor."

Dean cocked his head. "What?"

"Yeah," she joked. "He's going through a rough time with puberty."