For those very few who were following this story, I decided to revise this into a more fleshed out story. The original two chapters will be in this version, but they will be slightly reworked to fit the full version of the story. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1:

Deceptions

Sam and Dean walked onto the crime scene dressed in their best cheap suits with their fake IDs in their pockets, ready to present them to the first police officer or detective to question their presence. Which didn't take long.

"Good afternoon," Dean said as the officer approached them. "I'm special Agent Hicks and this is my partner, Agent Ripley." They both flipped open their identification.

"Officer Wittman," she said, glancing at their badges without much focus.

"We understand that Richard Tess was abducted and tortured by a man he claims was some sort of demon?" Dean went on trying to appear skeptical.

"Yep," Officer Wittman said, "Lemme guess, you're here because you think this is in connection with Ted Lasater, that looney that claimed a demon made him do it?"

"That's right," Dean confirmed.

The officer waved them on to follow her. She was short with a sturdy frame, her auburn hair pulled up into a tight bun. "Richard Tess managed to break free and kill his abductor, Myron Grayer. Tess says he saw…" she paused, her light brown eyes squinting in the afternoon sun, "some kind of black mist or some such nonsense, come out of Grayer's mouth after he stabbed him. It's probably better if you hear it from him, though I suggest you wait until he's had a few days to recover. He was taken to Sommers Lake Hospital. But I imagine you want to take a look at the crime scene."

She escorted them through the small crowd of officers and photographers. She lifted the yellow tape which Sam still had to duck under significantly. Inside Grayer's garage, his body was still sprawled out on the ground, eyes wide open and unseeing, blood congealed around him with a gaping wound in his chest. A piece of a broken dowel stained in blood, possibly from a broom or rake, lay on the ground where it had rolled several feet away.

Dean turned to Sam. "You smell that?"

"Sulfur," Sam replied, as he squatted down and dragged his fingers through the mustard colored powder near Myron Grayer's body.

"I don't get it," Dean puzzled, "Why abandon the vessel? He went through all that trouble to abduct this guy, torture him and the second he gets stabbed, he just flies out of there like a bat out of hell?" Dean waved his hand around for dramatics. "Why not stay in control of the meat suit and finish the job?"

"I don't know," Sam said.

They continued their search around the garage, taking notes. It was mostly for show, staying in character for the other officers. They had the evidence they needed to give them reason to continue on with their investigation.

With that, they wasted no time making their way to the hospital to question Richard Tess. When they arrived, they put on their usual FBI performance and were taken to Tess's room.

He looked like he'd been through hell. He was a middle-aged man, from what they could tell. The left side of his head was shaved with about a dozen stitches. The right side of his face was bruised and swollen with a few small stitches at the corner of his eye and his left leg was in a cast from the knee down. And that was only what they could see of him, it was safe to assume he had sustained more injuries.

"Mr. Tess, sorry to disturb you. I'm Special Agent Ripley, this is Special Agent Hicks, we're with the FBI." Sam didn't bother showing his ID, he had a feeling he'd be taken on his word. "We'd like to ask you about your abduction."

To the brothers' surprise, Richard jumped right into details. Usually people hated repeating their story over and over and were reluctant to tell the truth about the more unusual parts.

"Well, I knew Myron, not well, but he was a frequent costumer at the hardware store I own. He was shopping as usual, having some wood cut for a patio project he was planning. I helped him out to his truck when he attacked me. Hit me right over the head with one of the two by fours."

"Did you have a disagreement or did he have grudge against you?" Dean asked.

"No, but even if he had, did I deserve all this?"

"Of course not, I'm just trying to figure out what his motive would have been."

"He was a demon, Agent Hicks, he didn't need a motive."

"A demon?" Sam questioned. "Why would you say he was a demon?"

"When I came to, he had me tied to the support post in his garage. Before he started beating me with his fists, his eyes turned black as tar. His hand went bloody after a few good licks and he walked off to get a rag to wrap his knuckles with. By some miracle, I managed to work the rope loose enough to pull my hands through."

"That does sound like a miracle," Dean mumbled to his brother.

Richard continued, "I grabbed a broom in the corner and cracked it across the post to break it in two. He came back at me and I stabbed him straight through the chest with the broken handle. As he fell to his knees, this black cloudy mist came gushing out of his mouth and disappeared out of a busted window in the garage door. I knew what it was, Agents, it was pure evil."

The brothers made their way back to the parking lot. "Did his story give you the creeps?" Dean asked as he climbed behind the wheel of the Impala.

"No, we've seen it all before, Dean. Why would it creep you out?"

"I don't know, just something about the way he told it." Dean shuttered as the engine roared to life. "I need a drink. How about you?"

"Drop me off at the hotel, you go ahead. I want to get started on researching this Myron Grayer, see if he's connected in any way to Ted Lasater."

"Fine, but wouldn't you rather do it on a full stomach? It's still early."

Sam checked his watch, it was six-thirty. His stomach gave a growl, he could definitely go for something to eat.

"Okay, but only for an hour or so, I don't want to be out all night."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Dean smirked.

Ten minutes later he pulled into the parking lot of a little Irish pub with the name "O'Leary's" illuminated in gold and green neon lights.

"A Guinness and some bangers and mash sounds good right about now," Dean said opening his door.

Sam followed him in without comment.

Amber and her date opted to sit at the bar rather than waiting for a table. They weren't eating much anyway, just a plate of appetizers.

She had met David a party the weekend before, where they seemed to hit it off, but now she couldn't say the same. He was mildly amusing, nothing to get excited about. He was kind of cute with his blond hair surfer look, even though they lived in the middle of damn country, but the conversation was forced and she didn't feel much of a spark when he had kissed her. She knew after tonight she wouldn't want to see him again.

As she took a bite of a stuffed mushroom, her phone gave an alert. She wiped her fingers off on the cloth napkin and pulled it out of her purse. It was Kelly, her fellow server from the 24-7 Diner they worked at. She asked her how her date was going. It was typical of her to be nosy and pushy. It usually grated on Amber nerves, however at the moment, she welcomed the excuse to take a break from trying to think of something interesting to say.

"I'm sorry, David, do you mind if I respond to this? It will only take a minute."

"No, go ahead," he said.

She swiveled her chair around facing the open restaurant, her back to the bar. She crossed her legs and tugged down the hem of her short A-line skirt to keep it from hiking to far up her thigh.

Kelly's text read, {How's the date going? You getting lucky tonight?}

Amber rolled her eyes. Kelly was the queen of inappropriate questions. {Let's just say he's no Prince Charming, but he gets cuter the more martini's I drink. I'm still contemplating.} She responded, adding a winky face.

Eyes still on her phone, she blindly reached behind her and picked up her drink. She was suddenly halted by a towering man wedging himself between her and David.

"Don't drink that," he said and plucked the martini glass from her hand.

She turned and glanced up, taking in how incredibly tall he was, at least six-four, she thought. "What? Why?"

"Because he just slipped something in your drink," he bluntly disclosed.

"What?" She leaned around the large man and shot David a questioning look that demanded an explanation.

"Hey, man, I didn't slip her any roofie!" David said in defense as he stood up from his stool.

The imposing stranger turned to David, straightening his posture to his full height. Amber wasn't sure if this was purposely meant to be a threating move or if he was just using his intimidating size to avoid a fight.

"I sat right there and watched you put something in her drink when she had her back turned," he said.

David's eyes sized up his would-be opponent and backed down. He gathered his wallet and keys and left without a word.

The unknown gentleman turned back to Amber, his expression soft and amiable. He slid her drink away. "Always order your own drink and never turn your back on it." This was advice she had already known, but clearly failed to follow. "Be careful. There are monsters out there," he concluded and walked back to his high-top table where another man sat drinking a beer.

She busied herself with paying the tab, trying to extinguish the burn of her embarrassment. David had made a fool out of her. What a slime, she thought. She wished the tall man had beaten him within an inch of his life so he'd never consider pulling that move on anyone else.

Sam watched Amber scurry around, preparing to leave. During his years working in the family business, he had gained enough experience reading people to know she was deeply unnerved by what had just happened. The breezy confidence she emitted earlier in the evening had fizzled away.

She pulled her long, highlighted hair into a quick pony tail, hiked her purse onto her shoulder and tried to slip away unnoticed. Sam got to his feet and began to step out from behind their table.

"I'll be right back," he said to Dean.

He followed Amber out, just keeping her in his sight to make sure that creep she was with earlier wasn't hiding in shadows, waiting to pounce. She got in her car and drove off with no one on her tail.

Convinced he truly did scare off the predator, he went back inside to find his food waiting for him and Dean already diving into his own meal.

"You get her number?" Dean asked with a mouth full of banger sausage.

Sam grimaced.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I just wanted to make sure that creep wasn't out there trying to stalk her or something."

"I'm just saying, you played the hero card, plus, she was kind of hot," he said taking a healthy pull from his glass of Guinness.

Sam's expression became more disapproving as the conversation went on. "The last thing she needs right now is another guy trying to hit on her. And for the record, I was not playing the hero card. He was committing a crime and planning to commit another."

Dean looked over at Sam's light beer and grilled chicken salad. "Whatever, Mr. Chivalry. Just eat your little girly meal so we can get back to work."

"Since when are you in a hurry to do research?"

"Hey, I can be committed."

Sam let out a huffed laugh with a shake of his head and started in on his girly meal.