Sam spent the day in a turtleneck to hide his bruised throat, in spite of the fact that it was warm enough for a t-shirt. He figured the fewer questions people asked, the better. It wasn't his idea to be asking about a touchy subject like people being possessed while he looked like he'd been run over by a bus. At least he was feeling better as he and Dean set out to find some answers.

Hours of research did nothing to help the Winchesters that day, although they DID work hard. Sam spent a long time looking up demonic possession and things that might want people's hearts. Dean asked around the town, but people generally weren't more helpful today than they had been the day before. It was frustrating. They got together for dinner at a local café to compare notes and hope the other had been more successful.

"How did it go?" Sam asked as he sat down.

"Terrible," Dean replied, noting the absence of the laptop. "And I'm guessing from the fact that you don't have handfuls of papers and a list of web sites to look up that things didn't go better for you."

"Not so much, no," the younger Winchester said. "I can't figure out what this is yet."

"Well, at least I had some luck, then," a familiar voice said brightly, coming up to their table.

Both Winchesters turned, one of them completely shocked to see Jo approaching. "Well, at least I know what it was that you weren't telling me, Dean," Sam said dryly, noticing the lack of complete surprise on his brother's face.

"Yeah, sorry," Dean replied. "Jo, what are you doing here?"

"Are you always this cheerful?" she said with a grin, "Or are you making a special effort for me?"

"Jo, your mom is worried sick," Sam put in. "Have you talked to her since you left?"

"Of course not," Jo said. "Remember what happened last time?"

"That's exactly why we figured you wouldn't want to be doing things like this anymore. And why we thought you'd tell your mom where you were going."

"She never would have let me come," Jo said.

"Exactly."

"Dean, what is your problem?" she snapped. "Here I am trying to save lives, and all you can do is criticise me?"

There was an awkward silence. Dean didn't feel any desire to answer that accusation, so he just sipped his drink and looked at the table. Jo sighed in frustration.

"Look, Jo," Sam said, trying to play the peacemaker, "Why don't you sit down and tell us what you've found out? There's no sense in wasting valuable, hard-earned information."

"Fine," she growled, still glaring at Dean as she plopped down into the chair. "I've discovered that it isn't any normal case of demonic possession. Not only are people doing things they would never do, they're only like that for 24 hours and then suddenly they die, with their hearts ripped out."

There was a moment of stunned silence. "What?" Sam finally choked out.

"I said I've discovered that it isn't any normal –"

"Just the last part," Dean interrupted. "What did you say about hearts?"

"I said they get their hearts ripped out after 24 hours."

"That wasn't in any of the newspaper articles or anything," Sam objected. "How could the police keep something like that a secret?"

"And why would they want to?" Dean put in.

"The thing is that I read the police reports," Jo answered. "The police found these people with their hearts ripped out. And every single person that has been possessed has died in 24 hours, without fail."

"At least we have more to go on now," Sam said, looking at his brother. "Now we can figure out what it is and how to kill it." Jo cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her. "Unless you already know what it is and how to kill it," he amended.

"Naturally I don't," Jo said. "But I don't want you to go around thinking you can just subtract me out of this hunt."

"You're not a hunter, Jo," Dean said a little more loud than he should have. "In fact, I think last time we met, you didn't even want anything to do with us!"

"Look, I'm sorry about how I reacted!" she retorted. "How was I supposed to feel, finding out that your dad was the reason my father died?"

"And how were we supposed to feel?" Sam asked. "It's not like we knew about that. It's not like we were there."

Silence reigned for a few long, tense minutes. Finally, Jo, who had tears in the corners of her eyes, said, "I'm sorry. I should never have blamed you."

Sam swallowed. "I think we would all be benefitted if we could put these feelings behind us. Something that our parents did is dragging us down. None of us were involved, so we couldn't have changed it. Now let's move on."

"I don't 'move on,' Sam," Dean snapped irritably. "But I'll be civil. How about that?"

"It's the best we can ask for. We'll only cause problems for each other if we can't even get along."

Jo nodded. "It's only fair."

"Now, Dean and I are going to go do some more research on this thing. Jo, since you have an easy time talking with people, why don't you try to find out what these victims had in common. Talk to their families and find out if more people share a commonality with them that would help us identify the next victim."

"Right," she said. "I can do that."

"We'll meet back here tomorrow morning at eight for breakfast," Sam continued. "Everyone be careful until then."

Jo knew Sam was telling her to be careful and not Dean, but she chose to ignore it and nodded again. "Okay. See you in the morning."

Sam wished her a good night and dragged Dean back to the cabin. They didn't talk much; Dean was still upset about Jo but he understood and appreciated Sam's handling of the situation. The kid could talk their way out of almost anything.

"Well, it's definitely possession," Sam said as he opened up his laptop. "All we have to figure out now is who and why."

"What does it want with human hearts?" Dean said thoughtfully. "And why did something come after yours last night?"

"Perhaps this is the first step," Sam replied, as objectively as though talking about the weather or the latest football game. "Maybe he comes and tells them he wants to take their heart, then possesses them and takes it 24 hours later. I could just be the next victim on his list."

"Sam, please," the elder Winchester said, his voice betraying how tired he was.

"What? It's possible."

"Fine. It's possible. That just means that I'm not going to get any sleep tonight. I'm going to sit here and stare at you all night to make sure nothing possesses you without me killing it."

"But we don't know how to kill it."

"Well, that shot I put into it last night didn't seem to make it feel any better; that's for sure. The thing scrammed when I shot it. And even if all I can do is scare it off for a while, I will."

"Hold me, Dean. I feel warm and cozy inside," Sam said, knowing it was inappropriate to mock his brother after that speech, but also knowing it would help to alleviate Dean's worry a bit.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean growled, but he smirked to show he wasn't angry.

It was going to be a long night, though, and both brothers knew it. If Sam were right about his being the next victim, neither could afford to sleep. They would have to catch up later. After salting the windows and doors, the Winchesters retired to Sam's room. Sam laid down on his bed, eyes wide open. Dean sat in a chair across from the door with his gun. The two said nothing, but waited for the darkness to fade back into light.

Around 2:30 in the morning, with both of them in the same positions, they heard tapping on the sliding door where the spirit had come in the night before. Sam turned his head toward the sound, knowing he wouldn't be able to see anything, then glanced at his brother. Dean shook his head, telling Sam to stay where he was. They would not leave their sanctuary. Whatever spirit it was shouldn't be able to get in, anyway.

Well, they assumed that . . . until they heard footsteps going across the room to the kitchen and then toward the hall. Sam looked at Dean again, and his brother shook his head sternly. No way was Sam leaving that bed.

Abruptly the footsteps stopped, just as they were nearing the bedroom. "Samuel," a chilling voice called softly. "I've come for your heart. Tonight you will feed me."

Sam was now staring at his bother, hoping for some sign of a plan. Dean's eyes, however, were riveted on the door. They widened considerably when the doorknob turned, and the door swung silently in.

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Note: I really have no idea where this is going, so if anyone wants to give me suggestions, I'm completely open. You could say I have writer's block right now; I keep starting things and never finishing them. Anyway, I appreciate your support!