Rose leaned on the Impala, her arms crossed in front of her. She had resigned herself to the fact that the brothers weren't going to let her out of their sight. "So, where did you say we're going?" she asked Sam, who was pumping gas while Dean was in the convenience store buying provisions.

"West," was all he said to her.

A sleek silver BMW pulled up at the pump opposite them and a woman in a dark blue business suit stepped out. Rose saw the woman staring at her and ducked her head, letting her hair fall over her left eye. The swelling had gone down but it was still a dark yellowish-green color and she still had a butterfly bandage over the cut under her eye. Setting up the pump so that it pumped her gas automatically, the woman kept staring, then strode over to Rose, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a business card. She leaned in to look Rose in the eye and said to her, "You call that number if you think you need to, okay? Just remember, you're not alone." The woman straightened, looked directly at Sam then walked quickly back to her car.

Rose looked down at the card. "The Underground/Women Helping Women" it read, with an 800 number written beneath it. She turned and climbed quickly into the back seat as Dean came out carrying a brown sack in one hand munching on a candy bar in the other hand.

"What was that about?" he asked as he and Sam closed their doors at the same time.

"Don't ask," Sam said to him, looking over his shoulder at Rose, who was tearing up the card into tiny pieces.

"Looks like this is the place," Dean said as he pulled the car up to the curb in an urban neighborhood next to the highway. Up ahead of them, several men, mostly Hispanic, stood in a group talking to one another, some leaning on the concrete wall behind them, eyes closed, half asleep. The sun was just coming up over the highway to their left.

Sam looked around nervously. "Dean, I don't think we're just gonna blend in this time..." he was saying as he heard a noise from the back seat.

Rose had jumped out of the car on the driver's side and was running across the street towards the men. Dean and Sam looked at each other with the same thought, Not again!

Dean turned off the engine and they jumped out, each of them grabbing their guns and cocking them before getting out of the car. They walked quickly behind Rose, both of them looking around anxiously, hands in their jacket pockets.

A few of the men turned as Rose ran up to them, some of them calling out catcalls and wolf whistles to her. "Oh, we've got a woman that wants to join us! What'd you think you're doing here sweetheart?"

Ignoring their comments, Rose slowed to a quick walk, brushing past them to stand directly in front of the man who appeared to be in charge. The man looked to be about 45 years old. "Do you know who I am?" she said to him, turning so he could get a look at the tattoo on her arm.

Seeing the tattoo, he waved for the other men to be quiet. A few of them also recognized the crest on her arm and whispered to each other, word spreading quickly through the crowd, as they grew quiet, circling her and the man, but at a respectful distance. Dean pushed his way through them with Sam right behind him and came up behind her to hear the man say, "Yes, I know you. But what are you doing this far west, Mija?"

Rose answered his question with a question of her own, "Can you tell us what's going on?" she said. Dean and Sam stood directly behind her now, so close she could feel Dean's hand in her back, and the solid steel of the pistol. Still staring at the man in front of her, she reached her arm around behind her to place her hand on his, over the outside of the jacket, pushing his hand down. There was no need for the gun here, not yet anyway. He lessened his grip on the trigger, but didn't release it. Sam saw her action and lessened his grip as well, watching the crowd of men closely, looking for any sign of trouble.

"Friends of yours?" the man said, not trusting Sam and Dean.

"Yes," she answered him, not backing down from her question. "They work for... for the family. They're here to help."

Hearing this, the men in the crowd started mumbling quietly to each other, hope sounding in their voices. The older gentleman waved them into silence again. "No one can help, Mija," he said to her dejectedly. "Go back to Texas. Tell your uncle we've done all we can do."

Dean and Sam looked at each other over Rose's head. Uncle?

Rose persisted. "Maybe you have," she said. "But we haven't. And my boys here aren't ones to give up easily."

Sam realized that she was giving the impression that he and Dean worked for her -- for her uncle, whoever that was. He made a mental note that the man had said, "Go back to Texas."

Before the man could say anything more, a pick-up truck pulled up to the curb next to them. The man talking to Rose walked over to the driver. He came back saying, "Only 5 men! You, you, you," he pointed out one man at a time and they quickly climbed into the back of the pick-up, "you and you." he said. He turned to Rose. "Not here," he said to her. "The men don't need to hear the stories again. They're scared enough as it is." He led them away, back through the crowd toward the Impala. "My name's Rick, by the way."

Sitting in the truck stop booth across from Rick, Sam and Dean listened to his story. Rose sat next to him, her hand lovingly on his arm, letting him know it was okay to speak openly. Sam noticed that he spoke eloquently, sounding much like one of his professors at Stanford.

"I was born here, but went away to college," Rick said, almost in answer to Sam's thoughts. "I came back to teach high school... to give back to the community, but with budget cutbacks... well, let's just say a teacher who's a former gang member will always get the ax before anyone else." He had tattoos of his own on his forearms. Dean recognized the gang symbol that this man had killed at least 3 rival gang members, but he said nothing.

Rick continued, "Most of those boys out there, and they are just boys, were students of mine. All they want is work," he said. "An honest day's work for an honest day's pay. Why can't they have even that!" This last sentence was more of a statement than a question. He looked across at Sam and Dean, his eyes bloodshot from worry and lack of sleep. "But with what's going on, soon they'll just go back to the streets, back to their old ways of stealing and..." He put his hand to his forehead as the waitress walked up to refill their coffees.

"Breakfast'll be right out," she said. She eyed the foursome suspiciously, looking at Rose's face with the same intent stare as the woman from the gas station. Rose smiled up at her, this time pushing her hair back behind her ear instead of letting it fall over her face. Even with make-up, she was still unable to disguise the cut under her eye, or the greenish hue to her skin, but the bruise was finally healing. The waitress walked away.

Sam prompted Rick to tell them what had been happening to the workers.

"They're being killed, that's what!" Rick said, impatiently. "One by one, something's killing them off! And we have no idea how." The anger in his voice subsided into sadness. "If we could just figure out who -- or what -- is doing it, we might stand a chance. But it changes with every job. Sometimes it's a field worker, sometimes it's construction. But every day when we send men out, at least one doesn't come back."

He continued, "The papers all say it's a pack of wild dogs. But how do wild dogs make it to the 3rd level of a construction site? No, something else is killing these men."

Dean leaned in closer, "Did any of the men who'd been killed have a streak of luck before they died? Maybe came into some money, earned some kind of special promotion?"

Rick eyed him suspiciously, but seemed to understand what he meant. "You mean did any of the men make a deal with the devil and now the devil himself is coming after them?" he asked.

Dean sat back and he and Sam looked at each other in surprise. "Yeah, something like that," Dean said.

"No, no, nothing like that. These men have nothing I tell you, nothing. And just what kind of 'special promotion' do you think an illegal field worker is gonna get? No…" his voice trailed off and his eyes became distant.

"There was one, wasn't there?" Sam prompted, seeing the change in Rick's posture. "Who was it?"

Rick looked at him. "No, you don't understand. The… the maulings had already started, and well… there was word that it was caused by one of the men out there -- that he'd made just such a deal." Rick stopped, eyeing the brothers. Rose squeezed his arm and he looked down into her blue eyes. She nodded silently to him and he continued, "... that he'd made a deal with some kind of demon for enough money to..." He looked over at Dean, who had sat up straight at the words 'deal' and 'demon'. "But, it wasn't him, I tell you! His little boy was sick, dying. So he came into money all of a sudden? So what? The lawyers did their jobs for once, that's all! He didn't -- he couldn't -- have caused this!"

"Well, how do you know?" Dean asked, "Because... well, what's out there..." he stopped as the waitress reappeared with a tray in her hand. She set the plates of food down in front of them, asking, "Do you boys need anything else? Or how about you, honey?" she said directly to Rose.

"No, just the check, please," Sam said, smiling up at her with a puppy dog look. Rose just shook her head and bit into her dry toast. The waitress pulled the ticket off her book and laid it down next to Sam.

Dean started again, "We know what's out there. And what some people are willing to do..."

Sam looked over at Dean and added, "If we could just meet this man. If you know who he is and could take us to him, we'd really appreciate it."

"Take you to him?" Rick questioned. "Fine, I'll take you to him."

With that, the group continued their meal in silence.

Standing in the cemetery, Rick pointed to a headstone that read Jose Garcia/1967-2007/Beloved Husband and Father. Next to his name, a figure of Mary was carved into the stone, and there were fresh flowers placed in the urn that stood beside it.

"He was my best friend," Rick said to them, tears coming into his eyes. "His son, well, several of the children, in fact, were sick from contamination from the nearby plant. They were dumping contaminated waste into the water, thinking it was far south enough that no one would notice. So the only neighborhoods hit were the barrios, south of the dumpsite..." he turned away from the headstone, unable to even face the grave of his friend. "Jose's son was the first to get sick, and..." he turned back to face Rose and the brothers standing over the grave, "by the time they figured it out, he was too far gone. Before he died, Jose and his family came into some money. So he could afford medical treatment. But it was too late..." his voice grew shaky as he pointed to the headstone directly beside Jose's.

Richard Garcia/2000-2006/God's Little Angel. The headstone had a smaller version of the same Madonna carving as Jose's and the tiny urn held the same deep red flowers, freshly picked. Seeing the name, Sam looked over at Rick.

"He was my godson," Rick said to them. He shook his head sadly and walked away from the gravesite.

Dropping Rick off in the run-down suburban neighborhood, Rose got out and walked over to the gate with him. She handed him a small wad of bills, folded up.

"No, no," Rick protested. "I couldn't take your money."

She pressed the bills into his hand. "You missed a day's work to help us out. You need to look after your family," she said to him. As he looked into her eyes, his deep brown eyes filling with tears and gratitude, she added, "This makes us even. This way the family isn't indebted to you for your help." He took the money and turned to go into his house.

Later that evening, Dean and Sam were sitting alone in a local bar. Sam pushed the basket of food away from him and Dean reached over and grabbed several fries out of it. His own food was gone and he was quickly finishing the beer next to him.

"It doesn't fit the pattern of a crossroads demon," Sam was saying into his own beer. "I mean if the guy made a deal to save his son... his son's dead, Dean! It just doesn't make sense!"

Dean stopped eating and finished off the last of his own beer. "No, it doesn't make sense, Sammy. But something's killing these men," he indicated a stack of printouts of newspaper articles, with the headlines reading: "Man Mauled by Dogs" and "Vicious Dog Attacks Continue".

Their waitress appeared in front of Dean with a bag in her hand, "One veggie burger to go," she said, setting it down on the table and picking up the empty baskets in front of them. "Did you need anything else?" she added. Dean grinned up at her, but before he could answer, Sam held up a credit card, saying, "No, that's all." He stomped Dean's foot under the table as he said it and turned to smile at the waitress, "You take MasterCard, right?"

Still smiling at Dean, she said, "You betcha sweetie. Be right back."

She returned a few minutes later, handing the card back to Sam, but handing the receipt over to Dean. "You boys come back anytime," she said before walking away. Dean watched her walk away and looked down at the receipt and the phone number written on it. Sam stomped his foot again. "Man!" he huffed, wadding it up and dropping it back down on the table as he picked up the bag. After signing the bill, Sam scooped up the papers from the table and hurried after Dean.

In the room, Rose was sitting on one of the two double beds, leaning on her right hand behind her up under the pillow, flipping through a magazine on her lap with her left hand. "It's about time you got back!" she said, "I'm starving!" She dropped the magazine to the bed and pulled on her right arm, "And next time you leave me in the room alone, would you at least let me go to the bathroom before handcuffing me to the bed?"

Sam pulled the key out of his pocket and undid the handcuffs for her. He touched her on the shoulder as she stood up and she said, "Yeah, I know. Leave the door open. I'm beginning to think you just get off on watching me pee."

Shutting off the water after washing her hands, Rose pulled one of the chairs up to the table near the window. She reached for the bag Dean had set down and looked around, "What? Nothing to drink?" she asked. Dean reached into the grocery bag on the floor and pulled out a bottle for her, twisting it open. "Great. Warm beer," she sighed and looked into the food bag and then looked up at him again.

"What?" he asked with total innocence on his face. "It's a veggie burger!"

She cautiously opened the wrapper and peered at the mystery meat on the bun in her hand. She bit into it. "So," she said, her mouth full of food, "I've been thinking about this demon and the deal Rick said Jose made."

Dean and Sam paused and looked at each other, but Rose continued, "And, well, we know what killed Jose's son, but what -- or who -- killed Jose?" She swallowed the bite of her sandwich and continued, "Maybe the deal wasn't to save his son, but to take retribution on someone?" Rose blinked at them and took another bite of her food.

Sam sat down at the computer, "She's got a point," he said. "Now that I think about it, I didn't see Jose's name on any of the articles we've got so far."

"If he's the one who made the deal, we know what killed him, Sammy," Dean said, his mind on his own fate.

"Maybe, maybe not," Sam replied, still searching the computer. "Besides, we don't know for sure yet that he did make any kind of deal. You saw the gravesite. Fresh flowers, green grass. There's nothing to indicate anything… unusual about his death." He looked over at Rose, wondering if she should even be in on this conversation. They were looking into a possible crossroads deal, after all. He continued, "It's all just… normal."

"Yeah, too normal, Sammy," Dean said to him. "Something's not right, I'm telling you."

Sam found what he was looking for. "She was right, Dean," he said, turning the computer so that Dean could read Jose's obituary and the related story next to it. Rose got up and looked over their shoulders too, still eating her veggie burger.

"See? What'd I tell ya?" she said, still chewing her food. She read the headline out loud, "Local man murdered in his sleep. Doesn't sound like a demon attack at all. At least not the Hounds of Hell, anyway."

Standing over her, Dean looked down at her, "What do you know about the Hounds of Hell?" he asked her nervously. He had the same thought Sam did. She should not be involved in this. The less she knew about crossroad deals, the better. "And, man! Do you have to talk with your mouth full?" he added, trying not to let her see how upset he was by her statement.

Either she didn't notice his nervousness or she chose to ignore it. "I've heard stories," she said, answering his steely gaze. She popped the last bite of the burger into her mouth, "And look who's talking about eating with your mouth open!"