I don't own Supernatural.

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Chapter 13

They traveled in silence for most of the way, Dean drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in tune with the music that was playing as he drove.

"I was reading, Dean, and I haven't found any accounts that mentioned half-angels. I don't think the angels will except the kid, especially as it's Cass's. They're not gonna want another rebellious angel. Especially since its half human and won't be as powerful." Sam said suddenly, breaking the silence.

"So it's looking like we're gonna be able to keep the kid?" A hint of relief washed across the hunter's face.

"It looks like it. As Cass said, Heaven might not even pick up on it because it's powers are too weak."

"What the Hell are we gonna do with the kid afterward, Sam? I mean, we can't drag it around with us." Dean voiced his greatest concern. Fear crept up in his chest every time he thought about it.

"Maybe Bobby? He took care of us when we were little."

"Ugh. I forgot about Bobby. How the Hell are we gonna explain this?" Dean groaned. He had a feeling that the old hunter would not be pleased.

"I don't know, but I can imagine the look on his face when you tell him you hooked up with an angel." Sam hid a grin. He couldn't even predict what Bobby would do.

"Never mind that now. We'll deal with it when we have to." Dean said hastily, hearing Bobby's voice in his head saying, "Idjit." He shuddered as he felt an imaginary slap on the back of his head, and pushed the problem out of his mind for now; it would be a while before he had to tell Bobby.

"Look, we're almost there." Sam pointed at a road sign that was stuck at a lopsided angle in the soil at the side of the road that said, 'Elbert 10 miles.'

"You ready to hunt again, Sam, or have you become squeamish?" Dean grinned at his brother. He was kind of excited to go on a good old fashioned hunt and forget about everything else. It would feel good, relieve some stress to kill some evil hellish bastards.

"No, I'm ready." Sam honestly could not wait. He wanted to put the past behind him and focus on the future. Already he was trying to put the fact that he started the Apocalypse out of his mind, and just focus on fixing his mistake. If it started with a hunt for some savage beast, then he was ready.

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Dean and Sam stood in the autopsy room of the local morgue in Elbert, staring at the collected remains from the bodies that were set out on three metal examining tables. Sam poked around inside one of the victims with a grimace of distaste on his face.

"Yeah, the heart's gone."

He checked the other bodies, and they were also devoid of their hearts.

"Look at this." Dean picked up an evidence bag that contained a tuft of animal fur. "It's gotta be a werewolf."

"Or a skin-walker." Sam pointed out, removing the bloody latex glove he was wearing and tossing it. "They also eat their victims hearts."

"Why don't we talk to the victim's families, see if we can't dig up some more info?" Dean picked up the three files about the victims. "Emily Scnider, Christopher Adeltt and Joe Bukosvitch. They're all high school students."

"Let's go, then." Sam said, casting another look at the shredded remains before following Dean out.

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Sam straightened his tie as Dean knocked on the Scnider's front door.

A blonde woman opened the door and looked at them questioningly, taking in there suited forms. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Mrs. Scnider?" Sam asked.

"Yes." the woman answered, frowning at the pair.

"I'm Agent Smith, and this is Agent Bodock, from the FBI." Dean and Sam flashed their badges. "We're here about your daughter's murder. If you have time, we'd like to ask you a few questions."

A sad expression quickly clouded Mrs. Scnider's face and she swallowed before replying. "Of course. Come in."

Mrs. Scnider led them to the living room, and gestured for them to sit. She took a deep breath, and the boys knew that she was fighting to control her emotions before they started talking about her dead daughter. "What do you need to know?"

"Did Emily have any enemies, anybody that would want to hurt her?" Dean started. They had to make sure this was just a random attack, and not something else before they went further.

Mrs. Scnider's resolve broke, and picked up a tissue from a nearby box as tears began to trickle from her eyes.

"No, Emily didn't have any enemies. She was a great girl, everyone liked her." Mrs. Scnider dotted her eyes with a tissue, her voice breaking.

"Did she know Christopher Adeltt, or Joe Bukosvitch by any chance?" Sam asked, shifting in his seat. He always felt so terrible when talking to victim's families. Even though they had been hunting for their whole lives, you never quite got used to this aspect of it.

"The other two victims? Yes, they were ex-boyfriends of her best friend, Claire. Emily was devastated when they were murdered, and then she was killed, too." Mrs. Scnider began crying heartily into her tissue, and Sam shot Dean a look. All three were connected to this girl Claire.

"I know this is hard, Mrs, Scnider. Can you tell us anything about Emily and Claire's relationship? Did they have a fight recently?"

"I don't think so. All I know is that Claire was there for Emily when the boys were killed. She really is a lovely girl." Mrs. Scnider dropped her now limp tissue and grabbed for another one.

"Why would Emily be upset over her friends' exes?" Dean asked.

"Well, they were all friends. Emily's known them since second grade." Mrs. Scnider gave a small smile as she remembered the past. "They were always playing together. Such sweet children."

"Alright. Can you tell us where we can find Claire? We'd like to question her as well." Dean handed the woman another tissue.

"Well, Claire Getta is an orphan. She's lived in the orphanage for girls in town for her whole life. You can find her there."

"Alright. Thank you for your time, Ma'am. And we're sorry for your loss." Sam shot Dean a look, and they stood from the couch in unison. Dean followed his brother outside, as he listened to Mrs. Scnider still sniffling behind them.

"So what are you thinking, Dean? You think somehow it's this girl, Claire? She's connected to all three victims, maybe it's a revenge thing. You think she could be a werewolf?" Sam questioned his brother, curious of his opinion.

"I don't know. It all seems weird. Why don't we just go ask little orphan Annie ourselves?" Dean got into the Impala and Sam shook his head at Dean's reference to the girl.

They drove into town and spotted the old brick orphanage right away. It rose up above the other surrounding buildings, burying them in its shadow. Dean pulled the Impala in front of the building and parked. He checked to make sure his FBI badge was still inside his suit jacket before gesturing Sam to follow him and climbing the concrete stoop to the front door.

"Are we supposed to knock?" Sam said. This was a first; they had never interrogated anyone in an orphanage before.

Dean shrugged, and then pushed the door open. The worst thing that would happen was that they would get yelled at.

The entrance hall was dark and dreary, with a grey-tiled floor. A woman who was sitting at a small beat up desk in the corner looked up from her computer when they entered.

"Can I help you?" she asked without much enthusiasm, pushing her lank grey hair out of her face so she could see them better.

"Yeah, we're looking for Claire Getta. Is she here?" Dean stepped up to the desk, and held out his badge.

The woman put a hand to her mouth at the sight of the badge and looked at the two men with wide eyes. "Oh, what did she do?"

"We just wanted to question her about the murders of her friends and see if she knows who could have done it." Sam said quickly, not wanting the woman to think Claire was in trouble.

"Well, she's upstairs. I can call her down, and you can talk privately in that room," the woman said, pointing to a door on their right.

"Yeah, that'll be great," Dean said, smiling, and the woman melted under his gaze. Dean winked, and she blushed before getting to her feet and heading to the staircase that led upstairs.

Sam gave him an exasperated look, and Dean said, "What?"

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. "You're with Cass, now, Dean."

"I know." Dean shook his head at Sam's obvious statement. How could he forget?

"Well, you can't do that," Sam tried an attempt at Dean's flirty smile and wink and failed horribly. "anymore."

Dean shuddered at Sam's attempted expression. "That is not how I look, and it's a force of habit, Sam. I can't just turn off the charm. And besides, isn't it nice to just hunt and act normal..well, normal for us?" Dean said, a bit wistfully. "It's not that I forgot about Cass, I'm just trying not to think about him."

"Isn't that the same thing?" A look of confusion came over Sam's face.

"Listen, I know what I'm doing, Sammy, and if you were a good little brother, you'd trust me. So just shut up, okay?" Dean gave him a wink, and Sam shook his head. He had missed this flirting, joking Dean, although he would never admit it. This new caring, love-sick Dean was so different, it was like his brother was another person. He was kind of glad when Cass took of on his own, because it would just be him and Dean for a few days. He wouldn't have to worry about walking in while they were kissing or whatever else angels did with humans. But he still had to act annoyed when his brother did his little stunts, even though they pleased him to see parts of the old Dean surface.

The receptionist came back, joined by a girl with spiky purple hair. She looked a bit nervous, and twisted her black skirt in her hands. Dean took in the girl's appearance for a minute. The hair, the bright red lipstick and dark eyeliner. A big silver cross hanging over her blood-red halter top.

"Go with them, Claire." The woman gave the girl a gentle push. "They have some questions to ask you."

Sam led the way to their make-shift interrogation room, which turned out to be an old office crammed with dusty files.

"Have a seat," Dean gestured to one of the chairs in the room, and the girl sat down, staring nervously at the two handsome young men.

"You can relax. We just wanted to ask you about your friends' murders." Sam said.

"I didn't do it!" Claire said quickly, and Sam frowned. "It had nothing to do with me."

"Well, would you know who would want to kill your friends?" Dean noticed the girl was still twisting her skirt in her hands, and wasn't looking them in the eye when she spoke. She was lying. And the way she had replied to Sam was a little off-putting, like she was trying to defend herself when they hadn't accused her of anything yet. Yeah, she was defiantly involved somehow.

"Well, I don't know." Claire said. "Emily had a habit of stealing people's boyfriends. I caught my exes, Chris and Joey, making out with her and that's why I broke up with them. So I don't know how many other people that dirty skank did it to."

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam. Well, it sounds like Emily had at least one enemy: her supposed best friend Claire, whom she had stolen two boyfriends from.

"You don't seem too upset over their deaths. Emily's mom told us that you and Emily were best friends."

Claire snorted derisively. "Yeah, that's what she thought. She also thought her daughter was a virgin. Which I know for a fact, isn't true. Parents just have clouded judgment about their kids, you know? Never see what they're really doing until it's too late. And it was too late for Emily. She got what she deserved."

"She deserved to die because she stole your boyfriends?" Sam asked incredulously.

"No, not just that. She was always putting me down for the way I dressed, what I ate, my beliefs. Like she was so perfect. Everybody just loved her, but me, no. I'm just a freak." Claire ranted angrily, glaring at the floor.

"What are your beliefs?" Dean questioned. Sometimes there were things involved in their cases that had to do with spiritual connections; could this be one of them?

"Oh, just like magic stuff." Claire avoided their eyes, clearly regretting that she had brought up the subject.

"Like say, witchcraft?" Sam asked, and Claire shrugged. "Kind of."

Dean groaned aloud and the other two looked at him. Why did it always have to be witches? They were so skeevy!

Sam hid a grin; he knew his brother hated witches with a passion. "Alright. So you can't tell us anything else about anyone who may have wanted to hurt Emily or the two boys?"

"The only things I know is what I told you already." Claire said, but she still wasn't looking at them when she spoke.

"Alright. If you think of anything else, please give us a call," Dean handed her one of their fake FBI cards. He knew this girl was involved somehow, especially now that she mentioned witchcraft, but he didn't know how. They would have to keep an eye on her and see what they could find out.

Claire suddenly glanced to the corner of the room with wide eyes. Sam and Dean followed her gaze to where her eyes had landed. There was nothing there.

"Stop!" Claire suddenly cried out, leaping to her feet.

"Stop...what?" Sam asked, sounding confused.

"Nothing, I.. ah, just go." Claire walked over and stood in front of the boys, as if blocking them from something.

"They didn't hurt me, just go away." Claire said quietly out of the corner of her mouth, and Dean gave her a look.

"Who exactly are you talking to, Miss Getta?"

Claire looked terrified, but kept her mouth shut.

Sam suddenly fell to the floor, clutching at his chest frantically. Tears appeared in his shirt by some invisible source and Dean hurriedly pulled a gun out of his belt. "What the hell?"

Claire had grabbed onto what looked like thin air and was apparently trying to tug something away from Sam.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean questioned the girl, and she stared at him in fear.

"It's the spirit! It's supposed to protect me. I summoned it when Emily and Chris and Joe broke my heart, and it killed them! But then it started killing everyone that did something wrong to me. The fast food cashier that short changed me, the girl in school who accidently bumped into me and knocked the books out of my hand..I didn't mean it to go this far!" Claire wailed, still pulling at the air.

"It's a spirit, you said?" Dean cocked his gun, and Claire nodded. "Step aside."

Dean blasted the salt gun above Sam. There was a wail, and Claire gasped. "It's gone! How did you do that?"

Dean bent down to help Sam up, who had deep slashes in his chest over his heart. Apparently the thing digs into the victim until it reaches the wanted organ, then removes it. "You alright, Sammy?"

Sam panted, and glanced down at his chest. "I think I'm gonna need stitches, Dean." Blood was rapidly soaking through Sam's shirt, and his face was getting paler by the moment.

"Just hang in there, Sammy." Dean turned to Claire. "You summoned this thing, right?"

Claire nodded, looking ashamed.

"Well, then you're gonna have to unsummon it. Do you have some kind of witchy spell book you used?"

"Yes."

"Well, you go get it right now, and then you're coming with us."

Claire ran from the room to retrieve the book, and Dean got a better hold on his brother. "Hold on, Sam."

He began the laborious task of half-dragging his brother back to the Impala. This wound was too much for him to deal with, Sam would have to be brought to the hospital. Slashes on the arms, hands or legs he could deal with, he was actually much better then Sam then sewing them up, but these cuts were deep, and Dean was sure it would better, and quicker to have the real doctors work on him.

The receptionist screamed when she saw them, Dean supporting the blood-soaked Sam. "What happened? I heard a gunshot."

"No time, lady." Dean continued out the door, and suddenly Claire was there beside him, holding an old, cracked leather book.

"Get in the car," Dean said to her as he gently set Sam down in the passenger seat. She hesitated before complying; a strange guy telling her to get into the car? But they were FBI, or someone important that could help her fix her mistake.

"Where's the nearest hospital?" Dean asked as he got into the driver's seat and started up the Impala.

"It's five blocks that way," Claire pointed, and Dean sped away from the curb, cutting off an old lady, who waved her fist at him in the rear view mirror.

Dean broke the speed limit by more then he cared to admit, and Claire whimpered as she held tightly to her seatbelt for dear life as he raced to the hospital.

"We're here, Sammy, just a little longer." Dean screeched to a stop in front of the hospital, and hauled Sam out before motioning for Claire to follow him. He suddenly wished Castiel was here. He could have healed Sam right away. But he pushed the angel from his mind. He wasn't here, so they had to make do with human healers. He dragged Sam inside, and was assaulted by a barrage of nurses who took him away on a stretcher to stitch him up. Dean sighed; his heart was gonna give out one of these days from all the frigging stress from seeing his brother get hurt.

"Uh, sir?" a small voice said, and Dean jumped; he had forgotten Claire was there.

"Yeah, we gotta undo this, right?" Dean glanced around the waiting room ,where everyone was staring at him, covered in Sam's blood. "Why don't we go somewhere a little less public, and kill this damned son of a bitch?" He would come back as soon as they were done to check on Sammy; he was sure his brother would be alright. He had, after all, been through much worse then this.

Claire followed Dean back outside, and he surveyed the premises with an experienced eye. There was a boarded up building with a dark alley behind it, surrounded by a tall fence. Perfect.

"Do you need anything for the spell? Any ingredients?"

"No, it's just a chant. And I have to draw some symbols around a fire."

"Come on," Dean grabbed Claire's arm and led her behind the building. There was a pile of trash that had blown against the fence, and Dean gathered some of it, took a small flask out of his pocket that contained gasoline for emergencies, and drenched the trash before pulling out his lighter and igniting the stinking pile.

"Here," Dean pulled a piece of white chalk from his pocket and handed it to Claire. "Draw your symbols."

She took the chalk, looking at him strangely. "Who are you?" What kind of FBI agent carries gasoline and chalk in their pocket, and knows about witchcraft and spirits?

"Someone who can help you fix your mistake. Now hurry up, before the thing comes after us again."

Claire opened her book, and began copying symbols onto the concrete around the slowly diminishing fire. "Okay, now I just have to chant this backwards, and the spell will be reversed, sending the spirit back." She began chanting, reading from the book, and Dean felt a sudden chill, and then invisible claws grasping at the front of his shirt. Claire screamed, but Dean pulled out his shotgun and shot the thing again.

"Keep reading!" Dean screamed as the hands closed on him again. Apparently it knew it was about to be sent back to wherever it came from, and wanted to do as much damage as it possibly could before it disappeared.

Claire talked as fast as she could, glancing up at the sprit creature she had summoned to get revenge for her. Why had she been so stupid? Just because Emily had stolen her boyfriends she had deserved to die? What about her then? All the people, the innocent people that had nothing to do with her, that had been killed by her creature. ..surely she should be punished for her mistake as well?

Claire finished the spell, and glanced up in time to see the creature howl before bursting into blue flames. Dean, who was panting from the effort of trying not to get his heart ripped out, gave her a thumbs up.

The fire was almost gone by now, the trash reduced to soft black ash, but Claire threw the spell book into the fire, and it lit up, consuming the new fuel. Claire gave a little smile of satisfaction as she watched the old pages curl and disintegrate. She would never get involved with that stuff ever again.

"Good job." Dean patted the girl's shoulder lightly. "I assume you've learned a lesson here?"

Claire nodded, then paled. "Are you going to arrest me?"

Dean shook his head. "Everyone makes mistakes. As long as you're smart enough to see that you've made one, you're good. You're still young enough to choose your own path. Don't let this be it. I gotta go, kid. Remember what I said."

"Can I call you if I ever need help?" Claire asked the FBI agent who she didn't think was an FBI agent, and he just gave her a smile and a nod before walking away.

Dean sighed as he headed back toward the hospital. He hated dealing with witches because they were sneaky, and would attack you while your back was turned. But mostly it was because they were human, and killing humans was not on the agenda. He was fine with werewolves, and vamps, and all the other nasty fuglies out there, but with witches, you never knew. Once you stopped them, they could go back to practicing witchcraft at any time, and then there would be more deaths and injuries. But they couldn't just kill them, because they were human. And he had a feeling that Claire wouldn't be doing any more witchcraft, from the horror on her face when she saw what she had caused. Maybe they would stop in to check on her if they were passing by.

"I need to see my brother, I brought him in a little while ago," Dean said to the receptionist at the front desk.

"The one with the chest lacerations?"

"Yeah, that one."

"They're still working on him, but it shouldn't be too much longer. You can take a seat and wait, if you want."

Dean plopped down into one of the plush green chairs in the waiting room and picked up a car magazine. He started reading about the new Dodge Challenger, but he couldn't concentrate. A man pushed a woman past him in a wheelchair who was carrying a new baby, and his thoughts turned to Cass. He missed the angel terribly, even though they had only been apart for a day. How long was it going to take for Cass to search for God? He fingered the pages of his magazine, and tried not to think about it, because it would drive him crazy. He was trying to just slip back into hunting with Sammy until Cass came back, but it was proving harder then he thought it would be. The only thing he could do was push the angel out of his mind and try not to think about what he was doing; if he was in danger, if he was hurt. Cass would come back if he got hurt, wouldn't he? Or would he be stubborn and push on until he felt his search was complete? He continued flipping through the magazine until the receptionist called him back up and told him that Sam was in Room 109.

Dean traveled through the sparkling white corridors as if he knew them by heart; he had spent alot of time in hospitals, and knew the basic layout of them. He reached Room 109 and sighed before pushing open the door. Sam was blinking wearily as Dean entered his room.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean pulled a chair up to his bed and looked at his brother's bandaged torso.

"Yeah. I'll heal." Sam replied weakly.

"Well, we ganked that spirit creature thing. Claire reversed the spell and sent it back."

"And Claire?"

"I think she's given up witchcraft." Dean leaned back in his chair. "So how long you in for?"

"I should be able to leave in a day or so, as long as the wounds stay stitched up and don't start bleeding."

"Alright. I guess I'll crash at a motel, and see you tomorrow then?" Dean studied his brother closely, observing the exhaustion etched in his face.

Sam nodded, and then had another thought. "Bring me my laptop tomorrow. I can look for some more jobs."

Dean patted Sam's shoulder lightly."Get some rest, Sammy."

Dean closed the door behind him and rubbed his eyes wearily. So, a night without Sam and Cass. Great. Time for some old standbys. He stopped at a convenience store on his way to a motel and picked up some beer and a heavily processed apple pie. And a playboy for good measure. No matter how much he loved Cass, he wouldn't call himself gay exactly; he still had a love for those big-busted girls in those tiny bikinis.

But back at the motel, he felt lonelier then he had in a long time. He never realized how nice it was to have someone love you and care for you in the way that Cass did. Now he knew why Sam had made such a big deal out of Jessica. He suddenly felt sympathy for his brother. He couldn't even imagine how he would deal with it if Cass died. How Sam had gotten over Jess' death he couldn't understand. Although he knew his brother still had nightmares about her. He woke up screaming her name, and Dean pretended that he hadn't noticed the next morning.

Dean sighed and plopped down on the couch. It seemed to him like it was time for a night of self-indulgence with his best friends: beer, pie and old Kung Fu movies. A few hours later, Dean had passed out, his stomach full of beer and pie and his mind full of Jet Lee instead of Castiel.

It was horrible, wasn't it? I just can't write awesome hunts like the creators of Supernatural! :(

Please review on my sucky hunt anyway!