Next chapter! Whee! Thank you for the reviews, forshizzle! They brighten my existence : D XD Also...I noted I put 'Detectives' earlier, but it should have been 'Agents'...I'll correct that...eventually. XD

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North County College. Boy, did this place bring memories back. Different college, but the same feeling.

"Hey, Sam, congrats on that test score! You're going places, buddy." Brady clapped a hand on Sam's back and he grinned sheepishly.

"The only place he's going is home with me." Jessica announced as she sauntered past Brady and playfully placed herself between the two as she leaned up to kiss Sam's cheek. "Congratulations, scholar." she teased lightly.

College had been the best time of his life.

At least, that was what he'd always thought. But time away, having lost and gained what he had, having lived as he had...he had learned to finally appreciate his family. It wasn't perfect, maybe not even ideal, but it was his and they'd done everything for him. Dean had done everything, even sell his soul, for Sam. So yeah, now and again when he allowed himself to look back...there were plenty of brotherly memories mixed into his favorites. If Dean could see his Heaven now...well, he wouldn't find much to complain about.

Images flashed through his mind. Images of Dean and his cocky grin, his playful gestures, the way he'd looked as he'd comforted little Sam to sleep, his wink as he'd bitch-slapped Destiny as decided not to give up, his soft gaze during his nighttime vigils at Sam's side, his angry, big brother-face as he'd proverbially dragged Sam back from every kind of Hell time and again. And that was the tip of the iceberg.

Sam felt like he could barely contain what was inside of him, he couldn't look into a mirror without remembering, without seeing his other halves, without realizing everything he'd done and felt.

But there was no mirror now, just a mission, and he needed to focus.

Sam straightened his tie and steeled himself as he headed inside.

"Aimee! Wait up!" A boy called out after a girl who turned to smile at him with a giggle as he caught up to her and grabbed her into his arms.

"Caught me."

"Caught you. And now I'll never let you go." the boy agreed and explained with a grin as he gave her a warm kiss.

Hands closed over Sam's eyes and he stiffened at first, years of training about to kick in when he heard a giggle as Jessica murmured. "Guess who?"

Sam turned and caught her wrists with a smile. "The most beautiful girl in the room?" he guessed.

"Try in the school, genius. It's a little more romantic." she teased as she leaned closer.

"My mistake." Sam chuckled as he kissed her.

"Congratulations, James...you scored the highest grade in class...you're going to go far, you know that?" A teacher spoke to a young man beaming, but studious as well. He'd worked hard for this, after all, and wanted to work harder to accomplish his goals.

"Mr. Winchester, you've scored the highest grade in your class, and the upperclass besides...your writing is also quite exceptional...you could have a future in more than law, but I believe you'll be successful in any field." his teacher praised.

Sam tried not to grin and instead he gave a solemn nod and shot his teacher a grateful look. "Thank you, Mr. Conners. I appreciate that."

Sam tilted his gaze away and ignored the curious gazes on him. He had to focus on the mission. College was years away, bitter, Hell-spent, brother-less, demon-screwing, pain-beyond-imagination years away. That was a different life, Hell, practically a different person entirely. He wasn't Sam-College Boy-Winchester, or even Dean's Little Sammy, he held characteristics of both but that didn't quite measure up to what he'd become. Samuel Winchester. Demon-blooded. A Hell-survivor. The Devil's own vessel. A hunter...Dean's partner. There was something that he should have realized sooner. Sam had had the naive dream that after a little hunt-and-go, he could go right on back to Jessica. But that life had ended the moment Dean turned up on his door with a cocky smile and a mission.

Sam reached the principal's office and hesitated before he entered.

"Samuel Winchester...I'm glad you could make it. Please, have a seat." the principal motioned for Sam to sit and he did so with a respectful nod. "Your test scores are exceptional, top of your class, you're on your way to being the valedictorian for your class. Truly excellent work. May I ask what your plans are?"

Sam gave a look mingled with sheepish pleasure and determination. "Well...I'd like to start schooling for law soon, I have a test coming up, if I pass that..."

"Ah, yes. With scores like yours, I don't imagine that will be a problem."

Sam chuckled modestly. "Thank you, sir."

The door opened and Sam blinked as he found himself staring down at a business-like if slightly frazzled looking woman who eyed him with a lifted brow and a faint frown. "May I help you?"

Sam realized how foolish he'd likely looked, simply standing there lost in thought. "Ah, yes...Agent Owens. FBI." he flashed his badge. "This is unorthodox, I realize, but I need to utiilize one of your labs. It won't take long, there's something I need analyzed."

The woman's look spoke volumes of her disbelief where Sam was concerned and she eyed his badge before he took it away. "The FBI needs one of my labs?"

"There are no forensics labs in this area, unfortunately, and I need results as soon as possible. As I said, it's unorthodox, but necessary."

"You're here about the heart-cases, I suppose?"

Sam supposed that it was naturally of note, a case like that. "I can't discuss all matters related to the case, but yes, those incidents were the cause of my being called here." he tried to keep an official, business-like tone.

The woman didn't seem impressed but she nodded. "I am Emily Palmer, the principal, there is a lab you can use, but I would appreciate it if you leave it in the same condition you find it." she made that clear up front as Sam nodded and followed her. Before long, two flights of stairs and a hallway later, they entered the science lab where a pair of the sorts that Dean would call 'geeks' were hard at work with something.

They glanced up as the pair entered and one of the three students waved enthusiastically. "Hey, Ms. Palmer!" the other students waved beside them, and Sam supposed that the principal was well-liked, or the students were just...brown-nosing. Either way, the principal gave them an actual smile before she led Sam to the back-most portion of the lab-classroom. "This is Agent Owens, he'll be making use of this area for a bit. Please see that he has anything that he needs, if you will."

The boys seemed awed and the one that had spoken originally nodded. "Can do, Ms. Palmer!" The moment that she left, three pairs of eyes turned to Sam who mentally bemoaned the situation. At least he hadn't sent Dean, though, for starters-the other wouldn't likely know the first thing about analyzing as he was about to, and for another, Dean wouldn't have...much patience for the types of boys he was currently stuck with. Overly-friendly people tended to put Dean on edge and on guard.

"So you're really FBI?"

"Can I see your badge?"

"Have you ever killed someone?"

"Dude!" one of the boys hit the other on the arm and spoke in a hushed but all-too-audible whisper. "Don't ask that! It's rude...of course he has!"

Sam realized with dawning irony that once upon a time, somewhere in the shuffle from school to school, guys like these would have likely been the ones that he ended up 'hanging out' with. It took an adult's viewpoint to realize how annoying they really were, but they were kids. They were innocent. They didn't know that the monster in their closet could really reach right out and tear their heart out. It just wasn't their life.

"Dean..." Seven-year old Sam looked up at his eleven-year old brother with a troubled expression as he tugged his big brother's sleeve. "I think there's a monster in the closet."

Dean blinked and then scoffed. "Sam, you're supposed to be asleep..and there's no such thing as monsters." he knew better, but wasn't gonna say so. "Don't be such a baby."

"I'm not a baby!" Sam sniffed indignantly and seemed sullen a moment before he shuffled his foot. "But...what if there is?" Sam's hair hid his face, but Dean could tell Sam was actually scared. And he had good reason to be, Sam just didn't know that yet.

Dean hesitated a moment before he sighed and put a hand on Sam's shoulder as he led him over to the closet. He opened the door wide as Sam hid partially behind him and he flicked on the light. It was a shabby motel closet, nothing fancy or big. "See? Just a hanger. No monsters."

Sam still didn't look convinced so Dean sighed. "Alright. Wait a sec." Sam obediently took a step back to 'wait' as Dean shut the door and braced a chair up against it. "There, now nothing could come out even if it wanted to."

"Are you sure?" Sam seemed hopeful.

Dean smiled faintly as he ruffled Sam's hair before he pushed him to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. "I'm sure, Sammy. 'Sides, if there was a monster, I'd just kick it's butt."

"You can't kick a monster's butt, Dean! It's a monster!" Sam protested.

Dean scoffed and mussed his little brother's hair. "Can too! I'm older! That means I can do anything I hav'to to keep you safe. Duh."

Sam seemed to take that comment rather seriously and then he leaned over and hugged Dean around the waist. "Promise?"

Dean's expression softened as he wrapped an arm around Sam and used the other to ruffle Sam's hair lightly, affectionately. "Yeah, Sammy, I promise. I'll keep you safe. I'm your big brother, dummy."

Sam mumbled, already half-asleep. "You're the dummy...my dummy though."

Dean smiled faintly. "That's right, bro. It's you an' me.." Sam was soon sleeping soundly against him and with the long-suffering sigh of an indulgent and secretly pleased older brother...he curled up in bed with Sam beside him in his arms, and the pair of them fell asleep together.

Just a short year later, Sam had found out the truth, about their Dad being a 'hero'. But before that and after, it had been okay. Dean had seen to that, taken the burden on himself. When he'd had Lisa and Ben, for the first time had a real family, he'd thought that maybe Dean could relax for the first time in his life. Not feel like he had to save everyone, do everything...but thanks to Sam, and to Castiel, to the whole damned world...his brother had gotten dragged back in and lost everything. How was that fair? Sam didn't care anymore if he got screwed, he was far past that, but Dean...he deserved to be happy. Sam wanted him to be happy.

"Uh...dude?"

Sam realized that he'd once again lost his train of thought. He seemed to be doing that more frequently ever since...well, perhaps it was sort of a life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing...except that it was happening after the fact. "I need to analyze this sample." he produced a small baggie with the strange skin inside of it. "I'll need a microscope and-"

"Oh, right on!"

"We can totally do that!"

"I'm AJ, this is Conner, and Rex. We're kind of like, the experts. So yeah, we'll take care of that for you, no prob." he assured Sam and before he could really protest, he found himself minus a sample as the boys started in on it.

AJ and Rex fiddled with it while Conner stood beside Sam with a grin. "So really, what's it like, being FBI?" The boys seemed to lack the concept of the idea of FBI being...well, FBI. They were treating Sam like the new kid whose dad was a fireman.

"Job never ends." Sam replied simply, not really in the mood for social bonding or giving the boy more fuel for his enthusiasm.

"Yeah, no, totally. I get that." Conner nodded solemnly, not seeming the least bit deterred.

Twenty-minutes later, AJ and Rex with some help from Conner had decided that they'd effectively analyzed it under microscope and with some sort of chemical.

"Well, Mr. FBI...where exactly did you, uh, find this sample?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that."

"Right..well, uh, you got yourself some grade A...croc-skin."

"...Croc-skin?"

"Yeah, ya know. Croc? Crocodile? Native to Egypt, often confused with alligators although really, they're wayyy different, for example-"

"-You're sure?" Sam interrupted.

"Well, yeah, definitely. It's crocodile skin."

"And you could tell just by looking at it?" Sam wanted to be sure.

Conner spoke up. "I've done a lot of traveling with my folks, and since I've always wanted to be a vet, I always check out the wildlife. I've been to Egypt a couple of times, I did some study on the animals there. That's definitely crocodile. What's weird is that if I didn't know better, I'd say it was old. Like...really old. The texture and layering of that skin is just...I don't know, just old, man."

Sam fingered the skin sample a moment as he considered that before he inclined his head. "Thanks, guys...you, uh, did really well. You're a...service to your country."

The boys stared at him and first, he thought he'd spoken wrongly...until shouts of 'sweet' 'rad' and 'heck, yes!' chorused through the sound of high-fives.

Jeez.

Sam managed to leave the school sans anymore inconvenient flashbacks, and short three overly enthusiastic teens, but what he'd gotten had troubled him. Crocodile skin? Could it be any more random? Last he'd checked, crocodiles weren't exactly roaming the streets-or the sewers, as it were, and furthermore...it wasn't possible for one to just up and rip out a heart. But nothing he'd heard of could come close, not to mention, the boy was under the impression that it was old.

Sam withdrew his phone and clicked his brother as the sender. A couple of rings later, he heard Dean's voice on the other end...as well as the loud sound of music, shouting, and something that sounded distinctly like a shrill duck quacking.

"Yo, Sam. Whad'ja find?"

"Dean, tell me you're not in a bar. You do understand sundown is less than an hour away?"

"Hey, where better to find a sinner than a strip bar, right? Lust, sloth, gluttony, greed-"

"Nice try. Dean, you-"

"So you gonna keep wasting time lecturing me or tell me what you found, Sam?" Dean interrupted in a drawl.

Sam sighed and gave in. "Crocodile."

"'Scuse me?"

"Crocodile. As in a real, live, possibly very old crocodile."

"You're telling me a giant lizard is tearing hearts out?"

"That's what the skin sample was, but-"

"What the...Sam, Applefield's, there's-"

"What? Dean? ...Dean!" The line had gone dead. Sam cursed. Applefield's was a bar they'd passed not far off they'd passed coming in. Somehow Sam doubted Dean's surprise and dismay had anything to do with the strippers, and everything to do with something gone wrong.

Couldn't leave his big brother alone for a damned minute.

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~Several Hours Earlier~

"Alright. If I was the scum of Earth, where would I party?" Dean mused aloud as he slowly drove his Impala along the street and kept an eye out for any possible miscreants. Some giggling teens. A couple arguing. An old guy talking to...a tree? A man walking a dog. A woman roller-blading. But thus far, no one that really screamed 'hey, tear my heart out!'.

He finally abandoned the idea of driving around aimlessly in favor of parking the Impala in the parking area of a decent-looking park. True, the clean-scene wasn't the most likely place to find the next victim-but he wanted his baby in a safe place. And the park was set pretty square in the middle of everything, so two ghosts with one salt round and all that.

"Jimmy! You're out there again, aren't you? ...Don't lie to me! I told you already...I don't care. Do what you want then!" A pretty woman in her late twenties slammed her phone shut and lowered her head as she sat alone on a park bench.

Dean looked to his left and to his right, but there was no one else really around, and certainly no one paying attention to the 'damsel in distress'. And yeah, he was on a time frame and needed to find the next victim but hey, she was a victim too, right?

Sort of.

"Couldn't help but hear a bit...are you alright, miss?" Dean offered a sympathetic glance.

The woman sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. "I'm fine. It's nothing. Thank you."

Dean paused a moment before he pulled a slightly wadded napkin from a joint they'd eaten at on the way out. "It's not used, I swear. Just a little pocket-damaged." Dean faintly joked as he held out the napkin to the crying woman.

She hesitated and then blew her nose into it before she crumpled it in her hand and finally looked up at Dean. Damn but she was pretty, all blue eyes and soft lips, and that face, hot damn!

That was what he saw at first, and then he saw the pain in her eyes, that look that border-lined determination not to give up and the desire to just...stop. Hell, he'd seen that look in the mirror often enough over the past year, and then some. But moreover, something about her reminded him of Lisa. And that was...unacceptable.

Even so, when she offered him a red-nosed, tear-blotched smile, he couldn't help but smile back a bit even if he didn't feel it.

"Thank you...sorry, it's stupid of me, crying here like this."

"Free country." Dean said with a shrug and she gave a sort of sob-like chuckle before she wiped at her eyes again. "Mind if I ask what's wrong?" he asked as he sat on the very edge of the bench.

The woman hesitated again before she seemed to relax. "Just...troubles with my fiance. Nothing you'd want to hear about."

Dean shrugged. "Everyone can use a shoulder now and then, right? Lay it on me." he offered, a bit surprised at his own generosity, really. Where were his corny jokes? His crappy pickup attempts that wouldn't really be attempts now that he knew that she had a fiance? The awkward silence?

Was he really that...broken?

And since when did being a decent human being mean that he was broken anyway? Talk about being screwed up after all...

"...My fiance, Jimmy...he's...he likes to be gone a lot lately. Drinking. And I think he's..." she looked away. Dean knew what that meant. She thought her future groom was cheating. And probably was too, from the sound of it, the damned moron. Who'd wanna cheat on a catch like this?

"I just want to go home, to my family."

Jimmy Novak's voice rang in his head a moment. One of his less-than-heroic ventures had been keeping him around for Castiel's sake. How was it any different, letting Cas ride Jimmy than letting a demon ride a human? But Castiel was-had been-his friend. An angel. Necessary. So the whole poor-Jimmy-trapped-inside-bit...it just hadn't mattered. Some hero he was. Jimmy was the one making the sacrifice, eternity as a puppet to spare his daughter.

But it was stupid to think of it now. The deed was done and now, it wasn't like Cas was around to hear it anyway.

"Engaged to a blind man, huh?"

"E-Excuse me?" The woman stared in confusion.

Dean shot her a half-hearted grin. "Lady, have you looked in a mirror lately? If his eyes are anywhere but on you, he must be blind."

The woman seemed torn between being offended, and being comforted, and settled for mildly amused. "Uh...thanks. I guess."

Dean's grin widened a bit before he tilted his head. "I'm Dean." he held out his hand to shake.

She started to reach her hand for his before she clenched her napkin. "Probably don't want to shake my hand right now, but my name's Janine."

"Pleasure."

"Right.." Janine was still giving Dean a look crossed between wary and comfortable.

"So...Jimmy, he's...out right now?"

"Yeah...and you know what? Tonight's our fourteen month anniversary...I know it's a little silly, celebrating months but...he proposed on our last anniversary and we aren't married yet so..."

Dean understood. Sort of. To her, it was special and momentous and to her fiance, it was probably just a tick mark on the calender.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault, right?" she gave a bittersweet smile and he was reminded of someone else. Leyla. The faithful he'd met what seemed like too many years ago now. She was dead, almost certainly. The Reaper had never gotten a chance to heal her. But she'd given the same little smile, the same long-suffering but determined look.

"...Why do you stay with the guy if he's such a flake?" Again, a bit too blunt perhaps, but Janine answered anyway.

"...He wasn't always this way...he was...different. Sweet. He talked about things like kids and growing old and true love and...I don't know, I just kinda believed him. I guess sometimes, when you love someone-even if they're falling out of your reach, you can't help but want to believe they'll be better...you want to keep them close even when they tear you up inside. That's love, I guess, or family...I don't know. Seems silly now. But even knowing that it's probably...that he's changed so much...I still want to try, I still choose to believe he's still the man I fell in love with."

"Not as silly as you'd think." Dean replied as he let her words sink in.

For a moment, the pair sat in a companionable silence, just staring at the world around them but neither really paying attention to it. Finally she glanced at him and smiled. "Thank you, Dean. You're the angel on my shoulder today, I suppose."

Dean tried not to scoff at the irony and ludicracy of that statement. "Eh. Let's just call it lucky."

"Lucky to meet a crying woman on a bench?" she laughed, and it was a pleasant sound.

"Lucky to meet a beautiful woman whose fiance deserves to have his ass kicked." Dean said bluntly.

Janine grinned a bit despite herself. The man was...engaging. It was hard to stay gloomy around him, even though he seemed rather gloomy himself. "What about you? Something on your mind?"

Dean was a bit taken aback. He honestly couldn't remember the last time somebody out of his small circle had given a rat's ass about how he was feeling or doing. The women he was usually with were a little busy with...less intelligence-requiring activities. And it's not like random dudes just decided to pick his brain.

"Nothing that matters." Dean said dismissively.

Janine gazed at him for a moment, and he was reminded of the way that Lisa looked at him. She could just look past his cocky attitude and see into him, it was some freaky-chick thing on crack. Like she could see into his soul, even better than Cas with all his angel-mojo. Janine's gaze wasn't nearly that intense, but it had the same sort of feel to it. "You're a good guy, Dean. I think I'm the lucky one today."

"Don't count your luck yet. You only say that 'cuz you haven't heard me sing." Dean joked.

"Well, I'll be waiting for the chance then. I'd best be going, but, see you around?"

"Sure." he said, and he could have sworn that she knew perfectly well that he was lying. But she smiled all the same.

Dean rose as she did and was surprised when she gave him a quick hug. "Thank you, Dean. Really."

"Don't mention it. You just take care of yourself, alright? You deserve better."

Janine laughed again, that pleasant sound, and then with a smile and a wave-she was gone, walking away.

And as she did, the brown-hair became black and the dainty body became a little more fit and for a moment, it was Lisa with her long hair, and her bright eyes, and her wicked little smile.

But he blinked, and the vision was gone. It was Janine and it would never be Lisa again. She was just a memory now, a vision. He wasn't apple-pie Dean, never was, really.

Dean was a hunter on his best days and a self-loathing murderer on his worst, so there was that. A Righteous Man who'd fallen.

"You had such potential..." Alistair said regretfully.

Dean walked away and didn't look back. He had a victim to find, a hay-needle in a stack of hay-needles, as his brother had once said.

Forty-minutes later, his search had turned up...ding, ding, ding...not a damned thing!

"This is hopeless." he muttered. Sun-down wasn't too long off, a couple of hours at best.

"Whoo, baby! Let's start the party now!" a black-haired man hollered as he wobbled a bit to a passing woman, apparently less-than-sober.

"Wait until we're inside, cutie." a voice chimed, as the scantily clad woman sauntered past an already-partially inebriated man and they entered a strip bar called...Applefield's?

"The Hell kinda name is that?" Dean muttered. Still...booze, women, general sleeze-activity...it was the best lead he had, if one could call it that, and it seemed pretty busy for such a crappily named joint.

Thirty-minutes, two shots of whiskey, and a tip to a girl named 'Candy' in a candy-cane-themed get-up later...he saw just about every sin you could put a name to, and maybe some you couldn't. But again, no one was exactly wearing a bullseye over their heart, so how the Hell was he going to narrow down his search?

"Howdy, mister. You look lonely." A voice purred by his ear.

"That right?" Dean tilted his head to look up at the cowgirl themed woman before him.

The cowgirl giggled as she straddled his lap. "That's right, but don't worry, you don't have to be lonely."

Dean chuckled despite himself. This was so out of place. Once, he'd have already been teaching the cowgirl a move or two, but now...it was like going through the motions.

"My name's Chastity." she said with a wink.

Dean's partial smile froze on his lips.

"What the Hell did you do?"

"I merely told her that her father leaving was not her fault. He hated his job as a postman."

"Dude, this industry runs on absent fathers! Let's get out of here." Dean said, and he pulled Castiel away laughing and even Castiel, despite his confusion, managed a rare, little smile.

"Yeah, well...tonight, so's mine." Dean muttered as he slipped her a tip and moved her off of him. "Maybe next time?"

The girl shot him a look that suggested that she thought he was some kind of crazy and then sauntered off.

Dean sighed. This whole depression thing was a total cock-block. That and the fact that he was hung up on the woman of his dreams, and a family, a life, that would never-could never be his. Not really. And not anymore.

His gaze lazed about the establishment again, once again, not seeing anything that screamed 'pick me, pick me!', but he did notice something he found a bit odd.

Sunken, bruised-looking eyes, obese, sweat-slicked body, and a weaselly look about him. The creep from the morgue. He had a sour look on his face, like he was disgusted, but he was watching all the same. Did he have some sort of weird, anti-voyeur voyeur fetish? Well, however the dude got his kicks, definitely wasn't Dean's biz.

His phone rang and he clicked it open to hear Sam on the other end. A short conversation later, he found himself trying to piece together what part an alligat-scratch that-crocodile played in all the heart-ripping glory. Last he checked, crocs weren't exactly on the biblical down-low, nor could they smash in a chest cavity to steal a heart, but hey, he'd seen stranger.

Speaking of which.

A greasy-looking man who he'd noted making clumsy, drunken passes at...well, anything that moved, had snatched a wallet from a drunken, lust-sick moron's pocket. And from the ease at which he handled things, Dean guessed that he'd taken more than one already. Thou shalt not steal. One of Heaven's big 'no no's'.

He watched the man stumbled into a table and curse, and he was pretty sure the lord's name and 'damnit' found their way into the same sentence. Thievery and holy-name calling. Two down. It was the best lead he had to go on.

The man walked out the door and Dean took note of the fact that a tall, bald-headed man followed after him.

"What the...Sam, Applefield's, there's a pretty likely victim-in-waiting-" the line-dead signal reached his ears and he pulled his phone away with a frown to dial Sam back as he started to follow the pair of men out but all that he got was a a disconnect message. "The Hell..?" Well, fine, freak-phone disconnect, no worries. Sam had gotten the pertinent part of the message, he hoped, and in the meanwhile he'd see about the task at hand.

"Steal my wallet, huh, you little scum bag?" the bald-man shoved the greasy man against a wall before he kneed him in the stomach. "I'll teach you-"

"Whoa there, fella. Play nice with your friends, or you won't have any." Dean mocked a bit.

The bald-headed man whirled around. "Stay out of this, sleeze. It's not your business."

"Yeah, well maybe I'm making it my business."

"Do you have any idea who you're messing with?"

"Do you?"

The man's look was venom, whereas Dean simply gazed at the man smugly. "I'll kill you..."

"Yeah, yeah, step in line." Dean drawled.

The greasy man started to edge away and both men chimed in unison.

"Don't move!"

Dean and the bald-man turned to regard each other, and when the man lunged, Dean side-stepped him easily before delivering a taunting kick to his back that sent the man stumbling to the ground. "Trust me. Don't get up."

The man did so anyway and he charged Dean again. This time, he delivered a painful punch to the face before he delivered a stomach-crushing blow and let the man drop before he gave him a sharp blow to the head to keep him knocked out awhile. As he surveyed his work, he muttered. "Told you not to get up."

The greasy man started to edge away again and Dean shook his head as he came before the other and put a hand on one side of the wall beside the man's head. "You and I need to have a little talk." Behind him, the sun was nearly set in the sky.

"A-About what? I didn't do it! Whatever it is! She said she was twenty! I didn't steal it! The fire-definitely not me. The-"

"Listen up." Dean's voice snapped the man to attention. "I don't care about your laundry list of crap. I think you might be in danger tonight and for no logical reason, I'm going to save your greasy ass. So it's gonna work like this, I'll-"

The man suddenly jerked his hand and Dean didn't realize he'd been slashed in the side with a knife until he felt the pain and the warm trickle of blood beneath his shirt. "Sonuvabitch!" The greasy man had run like a bat out of Hell and Dean cursed again before he took off after him. The wound wasn't deep, more blood than was probably merited, but he'd live.

The greasy man? That was another story.

"Your funeral, dude!" Dean called out after the man as he chased him. The little prick was fast though, and he knew his way around better than Dean. The sun slowly set into the sky and left vague darkness. How much time did that give him?

Not enough.

Back at the bar, Sam found no sign of his brother and attempts to call him resulted in him getting the voicemail. So where the Hell had he gone? Worry flared within him...the way he'd cut off, what if something had happened? Sam stepped outside in time to hear a faint shout of 'your funeral, dude', and he could make out Dean's retreating form down the street. "Dean! Dean!" The other didn't hear him and rounded a corner out of Sam's sight. He was not unlike his big brother as he cursed and then took off running after him.

Alright. Thing about flesh wounds? They can be pretty minor, but when you start pounding the pavement with a bleeding stomach-it doesn't tend to help the situation. Dean had torn the skin open a bit more and his shirt and upper area of his pants were now sticky and wet with his blood. There was a pounding in his flesh and he was starting to wonder whether he oughten just wring the little prick's neck.

Speaking of... "Damnit." he'd lost him. Dean clutched his side and looked around. Where had he-

A shout filled the air as a man screamed and he cursed as he darted off in that direction. If he'd been too late-

-Just a bit further down the street was another damned alley and he froze as he saw what was happening inside.

The bruise-eyed morgue attendant from before had his arm dug deep into a man's chest cavity before, in a flurry of blood, he ripped the man's heart out.

Dean wasn't squeamish, generally, but the sight of that nearly made him retch. And as he looked closer, he took note of the fact that there were patches of green...crocodile skin all over the attendant and in various places it appeared that his...human skin was peeling off.

The morgue attendant didn't seem to notice Dean as he rammed the heart into his mouth and stretched his mouth and throat unnaturally to take in the heart before he bent down to...kiss the man?

Dean watched in confusion and horror, stunned into watching and not reacting to protect the man because, well...he was already dead.

Something blueish seeped from the man's mouth and into the morgue attendants as he pulled away, and Dean had no idea how the Hell he could see it-but he knew what it was.

A soul. He was eating the man's soul.

"Hey!"

The morgue attendant stiffened and gave a long slurp to the last of the soul before he turned and cast pure-black eyes on Dean.

"What the-" Well was it a demon then?

The whatever-it-was rose and Dean watched it flexed a blood, gnarled hand and he reacted quickly as he drew his gun and shot. He felt some measure of triumph as his bullet pierced it, right up until the thing looked down at the wound blankly before it returned it's gaze to Dean...and said. "Fresh...meat.."

Dean's eyes widened. "Crap." Then he took off at a run, what else could he do? And ran right into his little brother.

"Dean! Are you-"

"Run, Sam!" Dean grabbed his brother's arm and jerked him away as stumbled to his feet and tugged him along.

"What-" The sight of the bloody-crocodile-esque man after them spurred him into gear. "That's him!"

"Ya think?" Dean shouted as he ran alongside his brother and fought against the pain in his side. "Did you find out how to kill it?" he shouted.

"I don't even know what it is...well, I have a theory but-"

"Screw theory! We need to kill the damned thing-"

Bruised eyes gazed at them as they found themselves forced to come to a stop, facing the creature dead ahead.

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Kind of a lame stop, I know, I woke up early to finish but fell back asleep-ish so I had to rush the end a bit. XD Long chapter though! Hopefully enjoyable! And believable! And such! XD~