Sam's eyes went to Dean's. Dean shook his head and said, "Sorry Charlie." Shooting her in the arm, pretending he missed her heart. He would have fired again had he not realized he missed that shot entirely, so uncharacteristic of him, and shot Sam's hand that rested behind Charlotte's arm he non-attempted to shoot.

"Dean stop shooting what the hell?" Charlotte yelled, in a panic, she got her nursing kit and quickly took Sam's hand, getting her sterilized tweezers but dropping them with a hiss. She looked up at Sam after a sudden pang of realization hit the younger brother. "Dean, please, help me out here." She said, to which Dean decided, monster or not, she clearly wasn't hurting anyone now so he should make the right judgment call and help his brother.

"What do you need me to do?" He asked, ready to be Nurse Dean, kinky boots and all if it meant saving his brother from the slightest of pain.

"I need you to take those tweezers and carefully go in the bullet hole and take out the bullet." She spoke quietly.

"What you can't do it?" He asked with his eyebrows raised. She'd done it hundreds of times on them, the exact same procedure every time.

"I can't right now just do what I told you to." She growled. Sam's head was bowed and lips pursed outward. He couldn't tell Dean his suspicions or, knowing the type of impulsive guy Dean is, Charlotte wouldn't stand a chance.

"Yes ma'am." He said and took the tweezers, doing as he was told. Charlotte scrambled through her bag as she saw the look of pain Sam's face grew in to. She passed him a flask of Southern Comfort and let him chug half of it down, knowing how light-weight he is that was all he'd need to stop feeling pain.

Charlotte took a quarter of the rest of the bottle to apply on a rag, soaking it with the alcohol, she wrung the towel out over his wounded hand and Sam hissed slightly, biting into his lip. Charlotte got plastic silverware from the side compartment of a door in the back and, after putting the rag away, placed her free hand to gently pinch down on the corners of his jaw, making him open his jaw with minimal force so she slid in the plastic spoon between left and right side of the jaw. Noticing there were no exit wounds was a relief. All she did after was get a water bottle to clean out the alcohol in the wound and began using sewing needle and thread to give him three stitches, the third as a safety precaution. She put her stainless steel needle and cotton spun thread that was left back in her first aid kit and gave the last quarter of the bottle of Southern Comfort to herself for a job well and quickly executed, leaning against the back of the leather seats.

Yet still, she felt nothing. No dizziness or drowsiness that came with tipping back that much booze in that much time. She sighed and leaned back, just looking around. She should feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She should feel that rush or that relief sweep through her after performing so quickly and haphazardly along the side of the road. "So," Charlotte spoke "Should we go check out the old man's place or what?" She looked over at Sam and Dean with a raised eyebrow.

Dean was not ready to be driving around with whatever was pretending to be Charlotte. He wasn't ready to subject his brother's life to that sort of exploitation and danger. However, what ever it was in the backseat had just saved his brother's hand from his own gunshot, so it either needed them alive for later or wasn't a threat. Then there was another lingering horrible thought Dean had that came to him as it often did in unsure times. What if this wasn't something imitating Charlotte? What if it was Charlotte? They hadn't seen each other in years, something could've happened to her. It wasn't possible that she'd always been this way. Charlotte would have never dropped a sterilized tool before using it. She had certainly never acted this detached. Charlie had always been as emotionally involved as Sam, the only difference would be the change of experience between the two that would determine level of involvement, leaving Sam to be more emotionally entangled in cases. Though, lately, Sam had become less attached. Dean figured this was because Sam's main goal was to find John in order to somehow avenge their mother and Jess. Charlotte acting bizarre in itself was bizarre. Nevertheless, Dean nodded, figuring he could test her when they got back. He rather not test her in front of John. If hunting was a religion, then John was a fundamentalist. If there was slight suspicion Charlotte wasn't Charlotte anymore, she'd be six feet under before any of them could blink.

Charlotte, Sam, and Dean arrived at the apartment complex in a few minutes, the whole car ride being silent on the way to it. Charlotte broke the silence walking down the alley to look for the apartment number, "What's the number again?" She murmured, clearing her throat.

"642" Sam nodded and looked back at his hand, wanting to thank her for the stitch up but not wanting to make it awkward.

Charlotte nodded and found the door on her side and knocked, waiting for the veteran of a 'freak grizzly attack' to open the door.

"It's open." A cough of a voice answered before Charlotte could finish her knock. She carefully opened the door and saw a man crouched in blankets in the corner of a dark and small apartment.

"It's a little dangerous, innit? Leaving your door open like that?" Dean spoke up, strutting in the room.

"Trust me, boy, if something wanted in, a lock wouldn't stop it. Who are you?" The old man's critical eye turned to the three of them, as it had been resting on just Dean before.

"Mr. Shaw, we're in the county ranger's department. You said 'something'. What'd you mean by that?" Sam asked, curious.

"Well a grizzly ain't exactly a person is it?" Shaw replied

"We're here about that. We'd like to ask a few questions, going over a few old files of the department we couldn't help but notice the unusual circumstances of your attack. I know it was some time ago but if you could please help our understanding, that would be wonderful." Charlotte spoke

"Weren't like any grizzly I've ever seen I can tell you that."

"What do you mean?" She replied, keeping her voice soft while Sam spoke at the same time, "Mr. Shaw, what did you see?"

The older man gave them a crooked stare before saying, without high regard for his words, "Nothing. It moved too fast. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar…like no man or animal I ever heard."

"It came at night? Got inside your cabin?" Sam asked, eyebrow raised.

"It got inside our cabin." Shaw confirmed "I was sleepin' in front of the fire place when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break down the door…it unlocked it. Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up until I heard my parents screaming."

"It killed them?" Sam asked. At first, Charlotte was a little ticked at the question. If it was a monster and they were screaming, they were most likely killed, but that might not always be the case.

Shaw nodded and continued, "Dragged them off into the night. Why it left me alive…been asking myself that ever since." This raised some interesting questions. Were they hunting a monster that had a thought process? Did it have a main target victim? Was it gunning for his parents? It was unlikely to be anything to shift from a human.

"You don't have a point of reference? Anything you think it might be or might look like?" Charlotte asked

"Nope," Shaw shook his head and shifted upright in his seat "But it left me this," He pulled back his shirt to reveal three long and deep scars from what seemed to have been painful gashes made by an animal's claws but by far too long and close together to be from a Grizzly Bear.

Dean nodded, lips slightly pursed before he said, "Thank you for your time, Mr. Shaw. Your information has been very helpful in this investigation."

They walked out of the room, carefully closing the door behind them. Getting out into the hall they all looked at each other. They were hunting a predator with no internal target motive. It acted simply on animal behavior. It had tried to get Shaw and somehow didn't. It hid well. It went at lightening speed, and it roared. But one thing in particular stuck out to Charlotte:

"It dragged them out of the house."