TWO WEEKS LATER

"Chupa-what-now?"

"Chupacabra, modern legend says this creature will drain anything, even humans of blood. Lore suggests a darker past."

"Anything say how we can kill it?"

Dean was on kill mode. Lisa's dismissal was still an open wound. After everything, he knew above all else that hunting wasn't at the top of his bucket list anymore. He also knew he was still on a Demonic hit list, and so was Sam. As always there was nothing that stop him from protecting his brother.

"Not really. Legends actually stretch across the world, the Celts knew it as a Bodach, elsewhere the Boogy, or Boogyman." Sam scrolled down the computer page.

"The Bodaich or Bodach was said to be a creature born of the darkness, most people cannot perceive them. Ancient lore suggest the creature is animalistic, and made of shadow.

Stories of the Bodaich were told, dictating should a child misbehave the entity would enter their home in the dead of night and drain their life force. This is also where the vampire myth may have been generated."

"Vampire myth?" Dean scoffed, in annoyance. "If only, huh?"

"You're telling me." Sam replied, his eyes still glued to the screen. "Listen to this: The Chupacabra is told to be near invisible, moving in the shadows to devour it's intended prey. Once considered to be a tale told by thieves, to the farmers they stole from - cattle and livestock would vanish.

Modern farmers, in the attempt to stave thievery have stayed out late into the night, most vanishing by morning. In 1983, Andrew MacPhearson, a farmer in New Mexico did exactly this, hoping to catch his neighbor's sons stealing his cattle. The following morning MacPhearson's wife found his body five miles from their home, ripped and torn, completely drained of blood. Coroner's report stated MacPhearson must have died at least a week before he was found. His wife Beth, was named prime suspect and imprisoned for life. Only having died three months later from dehydration."

"So, no eyewitnesses?" This was always the problem with old myths turned reality. Everyone had their own idea.

"Well, there's a no-name blog that says more recently a David Knight was torn up pretty good, but he survived." Sam answered.

"Then, we find Dave. Any idea where he'd be?"

"Loreto Bay Hospital." Sam finally looked up. "This happened last week."

"I don't know whether that's good luck or bad."

"Good for us, bad for Dave."

"Or something."

"Or something." Sam concurred.

The Impala raced along the near empty highway, ACDC's Love Song blaring, Dean mouthed the lyrics soundlessly. Happy as he was to have Sam back, alive - he missed Lisa, he missed Ben. For a few short months he had a taste of how life could have been. Had they been normal.

He also noted that Sam was quieter than he'd ever been. He knew better than to bring up hell, but it worried him. The Hell Sam had to endure had to be twenty times worse than being treated as a Thanksgiving day turkey for the equivalent of forty years. Because while Dean had Alistair, Sam was tortured by Lucifer himself. At least that's what Dean's mind had concocted.

Sam on the other hand kept his mind on the more pressing issues, pulling Dean out of his "funk" being the primary.

"Passing through Tijuana shortly. I suppose you'll want to make a stop?" Sam joked half-heartedly. "I recall something said once about a donkey show. I'm sure you can find one... Somewhere."

"Let's just get to Loreto. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get the job done. The sooner we're off to darker and deadlier." Dean responded. He grimaced internally. He had said that as a joke, barely twenty-four hours before he himself took the great leap into the pit.

"Alright, we'll eighty-six the donkey show, how about the señoritas and cervesas?"

"We'll wind up with beers and broads no matter where we go, Sammy. Besides, the señoritas in T-J... I dunno about you, but I've heard horror stories." His tone was joking, even while deadly serious. His brother was just trying to cheer him up. This too shall pass. "Besides, we need to figure out how to kill this son of a bitch."

"Every story I've come across likens the Chupacabra to Hell Hounds. Only seen by their prey, creatures of shadow. The Colt should work."

"What's option number two? Bobby has the Colt." Dean had given the Colt to Bobby, having promised Sam that he'd go to Lisa, give up on hunting. Well, as best he could anyway.

"Maximum damage is our next bet, I guess." Sam scratched at the back of his head, shrugging in the same motion. "The problem isn't how we kill it, so much as how we hunt it. There's nothing in any of the lore indicating any kind of nest, or warren, or anything. Given that it's barely more than shadow to the human eye - I don't know how the hell we'll find this thing."

"Well, it's a blood sucker right? So we'll get a bucket of blood and lure it into the light. You really think it could be related to Hell Hounds?" Dean hated Hell Hounds, those bastards scared the crap out of him.

"People who claim to have seen them say they have the head of a wolf-like animal, and the body of a crouched human. There's a distinct possibility that they're the spawn between a demon and a hell hound." Sam explained.

"Excuse me while I go wash my brain with lye." Dean groaned. "Not an image wanted in my mind. So if that is what they are. How the hell did they get out of Hell?"

"Same way anything else does. But I think it's more like a pet project, Demon number three breeds his sister with Fido, and voila: Chupacabra."

Dean chuckled and flashed a sidelong grin. "Pet project..."

"Good to see you Dean. How ya been?" Sam laughed, and for the first time since they got back in the car, the brothers laughed together.