The Impala rumbled up to the largest house on Sycamore, parked across the street even though the driveway was empty.

Ben didn't know if that meant the demons were out or if it simply meant the demons didn't bother with cars. The more powerful ones could just teleport. It wasn't a pleasant idea.

Amy stayed too still in the passenger seat, only her hand moving as the not-silver blade blurred around it, spinning like a top. He couldn't believe it hadn't gone flying and murdered them yet, at this rate. As it was, Amy looked like she wanted to throw up.

There was a huge difference between dealing with a known quantity - Mr. Moriarty, for instance - and an unknown one. With Ben's neighbour, Amy knew she didn't have to be guilty about the stabbing. The host was already certifiably dead. Not only that, but the host was old. Even with hellspawn fuelling it, it could only go so fast.

And even beyond that, they had known that there was only one. Here, they had nothing.

The townspeople had been justifiably confused. Some said there were dozens missing, others said only ten. It all depended on how far some families were willing to go to disguise the fact that some of them were missing. Of course, there would always be a few coincidental deadbeats, just to screw with the numbers a little more. Ben and Amy could be facing anywhere from five to five dozen demons.

Five, they could take. Maybe. Five dozen? No freaking way.

And judging by the fact it hadn't been much more than a week, these hosts were likely to be alive. If they killed any demons with that fancy knife, they were likely to be killing innocent people as well. Ben didn't like that at all, but they didn't have a choice.

Amy had blanked her eyes again, repeated her rule. You can't save everyone.

Ben was the first to move this time. He creaked his door open, slammed it shut. He had the bag of weapons, to be fair. Also paint. And a rug with a Devil's Trap on it. And a couple placemats as well. He was about as prepared as he could get, given the fact that they were already here and should probably attack before giving the demons too much warning.

"Ready?" he said. Patted his pockets, making sure he had plenty of salt and a knife and also that lemon chiffon touch up paint stick with which to draw Devil's Traps.

He didn't particularly want to use it for two reasons. One - if he stopped and went to draw something, the demons would likely laugh and then cheerfully murder him. Not to mention that he was crap at drawing them anyway.

Two - the thing had been in Amy's bra. He shuddered again at the thought, giving Amy enough time to clamber out of the car and click her fingers at him irritably. "Ben? Hello? Anyone home?"

"What? Sorry." he coughed awkwardly, ran his hand over his hair again. He really needed to trim it. Not that that was the priority, at the moment. "What did you say?"

Eye roll, even though he'd seen a real eye roll and knew she usually actually rolled her eyes all the way around and this little flicker of gaze was painting the first wall of the facade. "I said, Benny Boy, would you pass me a paint stick? I'd like one too."

Ben happily divested himself of the lemon chiffon paint stick, and they turned in unison to stare at the house, Amy somehow at his side. It was three stories, which was weird in this kind of suburbia. The frames of the windows were painted a sort of white-green, paint chipping and peeling away from the slightly rotting brown wood underneath. The front deck was huge and sprawling and broken, a smiling line of teeth and nubs ready to welcome them to their doom.

Ben was the first to move again, taking that first step off the curb onto the potholed road, and promptly got himself felled like a tree. Amy caught him, set him back up. Her fingers bit into his shoulder, drawn tight. "Don't do them a favour and kill yourself before you even get in there, idiot."

He snorted, tested his ankle. It was fine. So was he. And now they were one step away from the car, which was good. The first step was always the hardest.

The second step followed, steadier than the first. A third, steadier than the one before it. The two made their way across the street, gaining speed and nerve with each hit of shoe and asphalt.

This chapter was literally getting out of a car and three steps and internal monologue. It's needed, though. Ben really needed to sort out his thoughts. And also - he's nervous. With good reason. He's going up against an unknown number of demons with only one person as backup and one really effective weapon. Not to mention he's psychic and knows that Dean is neaaaaaar. :)

And yeah! I'm back! With enough mosquito bites to-ARGH! But anyway. Hope you're enjoying the story!