Neither Dean, nor Sam, nor Lory was awakened by the rising of the sun. Nor by the whirring of passing cars, nor by Lory's tendency to kick in her sleep, or Dean's snoring, or Sam's unconscious flatulence. Dean, Sam and Lory were so lulled from ages of nothing (if you don't count the little peep show) that all three had fallen into a deep sleep. Dean didn't hear the first set of raps upon his window, but he jumped at the second, exponentially more obnoxious set. His brother followed suit, and then at last Lory.

At first glance, all Dean could see was the blinding sun rays behind the black of the figure that eclipsed it, but as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes they began to focus. He rolled down the window.

"Ms. Lobardi?"

"Sleeping on the job…detectives...?" the woman trailed, taking in their drastic change of clothing, unkempt hair and the lounging young woman in the back seat.

"Agents, actually…" Dean nodded matter-of-factly, patting himself down for his counterfeit badge "and we were resting our eyes…"

Judith Lobardi, who was in a lime green tube top and red hot pants on this particular day, bent inward, but not quickly enough. The wallet was already snatched away.

Sam nodded to her.

"Ms. Lobardi."

Jerking her head toward Lory in the back seat and leaning into the open driver's side window, the woman questioned skeptically, "And is she an agent too?"

"Our technician," Sam nodded.

"Where's your equipment?" she asked, popping her gum.

"That's need-to-know," Dean grunted.

"Okay," she sighed, rolling her buggy eyes behind her winged glasses, "I doubt this is legit- but whatever you're doing, for whatever reason you're doing it- I want to take Egar down as badly as you do."

The brothers raised their eyebrows.

"Oh?" Sam inquired, touching his chin.

"You bet your sweet asses, honey! The bastard has hated me for years, and the feeling's been mutual. So he waits until my time of need-" she began to choke up dramatically, "when my only brother passes on- to make it an opportunity to reap some sort of sick revenge! I want this bastard to fry. Whatever you're gonna do to him, he deserves. Just so you know, he's been gone a good ten minutes. He does his shopping in town on Sundays, shouldn't be back for a while. It should be long enough to take care of…whatever…"

"Uhm," began Dean, slightly taken aback "thank you…"

"By the way- what are you three gonna do to him?" she asked with devious excitement.

Sam began slowly, "For now, we're just going to have a look around…See what we can find on him. Truth be told, we're reporters and we want to get to the bottom of this…debacle."

"That's even better than killin' him! Expose that rat bastard for who he is. I'll even keep a lookout for you…You-" she nodded to Dean, "give me your number… So I can call you if I see him coming."

Digging inside her unharnessed cleavage, she removed a clammy, bright pink cellular phone and flipped it open with a wink.

Dean gulped.

"It's, uhm, 555-37…"

Sam watched in dismay as his brother gave the woman his cell phone number.

"All right. He keeps a spare key under the mat. You all run along inside. I'll be in touch…" Judith Lobardi waved, backing away from the car.

"Thank you," Dean smiled, "and you can call any time. Day or night," Dean waved back, giving Sam a pat on the knee with his other hand.

He and Lory took a few moments to break into raucous laughter. Sam turned to his brother, huffing slightly for a long moment.

"…You're a douchebag."

When the door slammed shut behind him, Dean only laughed louder, stumbling out of his side and letting Lory out of hers.

"He's right, you know," Lory agreed, but with a crooked smile.

"Eh, it's about time Sam found a love of his own."

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"Whoa…" Lory trailed, overcome by the general spookiness given off by the house, but then she stopped in her tracks, her limbs tingling.

The house was much more than visually creepy.

"What are you picking up?" Dean asked, noting the familiar look in her eyes.

"I don't know… but it's some badass juju."

"Should we split up?" asked Sam, glancing over the living area.

"Good idea," Dean nodded, "You take the downstairs of the house, me and Lory will take the upstairs, then we'll meet up and search the parlor together."

Sam looked between his brother and Lory, contemplating protest.

She's my girlfriend…Like it not…

He quickly rethought.

"Right."

The couple found that the second level of the house even more disconcerting than the first. Still, the desensitized Dean's nature prevailed.

"Wanna start with the master bedroom?"

Lory grimaced at the dusty paneling, cobwebbed light fixtures and yellowed, peeling wallpaper in the hall and deadpanned, "Couldn't we just find a nice alleyway?"

Rolling up behind her, placing his hands on her hips, he whispered, "Don't tempt me…I will take you up on that…"

"Shhh," she hissed, halting his hands on her ribs, and in turn, the distraction, "I'm picking up something."

"Like asbestos?" Dean asked with a playful peck upon her neck.

"In here…."

She nodded to the closed room at the end of the hall. Pulling Dean along, she avoided the various antiques (urns, tables, busts, ancient oddities) that lined the hall. She reached out a tentative hand, bringing her fingers to lie on the smooth, cold brass.

"What are you waiting for?"

She nibbled her bottom lip, finally gripping it, turning it, and gently leaning her weight against the door. It let off the creak they both expected.

There was a dark, beautiful four-poster lined against the middle of the left wall- the centerpiece of the room- complimenting it, ancient, time-blackened furniture and decorative pieces. It was a standard bedroom outfit, simply put through the test of time. What they did find off-putting was the small horde of trunks and chests placed throughout the room- on the floor, under tables, on top them.

Dean arched an eyebrow.

"Okay, weird…"

He turned to Lory, smiling devilishly.

"What?" she smiled back.

"You know you want to open each and every one of these…"

"You know me so well…"

They hopped to work, each taking a trunk or chest, but they shortly found each and every single one of them was locked.

"It figures," Dean sighed, "What do you say? Can we get a little psychic X-ray going on?"

She shook her head.

"It doesn't work like that. But I am picking up some epically sketch ass vibes from this room."

"Hell, I'm picking up major sketch ass vibes…" Dean walked over to the window, following a hunch, and peeked out of it. "This is the room we were watching…"

Just as those words were said, Lory's hand fell on one of the bedposts and she seized, a chill running up the back of her legs and through her spine.

The silhouettes now had color and form. The small man was dark with large features and his counterpart was slender and white- beautiful- with long raven hair and large black eyes. And there they were, on that very bed, in the throes of passion. Leathery, creased skin pressed against soft and silken. Short and stiffened limbs tangled with long and graceful. And in the midst of their tumbling, heaving flesh, there was something unnatural…Something that did not belong. This was no simple old john with a young hooker.

The young woman- both face and body not possibly older than twenty-five- rolled on top of the almost dangerously panting man. Her black hair tumbled down the center of her back. She rolled her neck slowly, causing the black waterfall to spill over her shoulder. On the back of her neck… a tattoo… a symbol…

"Lory!"

She was back in Dean's arms, panting against his chest. Very weakly, she mumbled something.

"What?"

"Paper…" she repeated.

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Lory finished her fervent little sketch in Sam's leather-bound notebook. Breathing as though she had just been running as fast as she was drawing, she presented the marked page to the boys.

"Are you sure this is what you saw?" asked Sam, folding his arms.

He and Dean exchanged looks.

"Positive."

Sam shifted glances between Dean and Lory.

"Looks like we're dealing with a witch, and probably a pretty hard-core one, at that. This is definitely a symbol of the occult, and I've seen it somewhere, but never tattooed on anything."

"So, Egar could be supplying her with corpses for her crazy mojo," Dean nodded, "Parts for poon."

"What I want to know is what the hell is in those trunks…" Lory sighed, "And…"

"And?" Sam urged gently.

"And where witchy woman is…"

Dean wet his lips.

"This woman…She wouldn't happen to be pale and very pretty, would she?"

"Yeah..?" Lory nodded.

"Dark hair, dark eyes…"

"Yeah, how-"

"And look exactly like that?"

Dean gestured to the photo on the wall. In it was the man Lory saw in her vision, only thirty or forty years younger, and beside him was the exact same raven-haired woman, only…exactly the same. Same age, same face.

"Okay, yeah, that's just freaky. This is like some bad horror movie."

Sam put a hand on her shoulder, "Lory, our lives are a bad horror movie, and as of the moment you met us, yours is, too."

"Nope," Dean smiled, grabbing her waist and pulling her from Sam, "there's always sex in bad horror movies…"

There was a sudden obnoxious buzzing noise. All three looked to Sam's vibrating pants. He looked down at his phone.

"We gotta haul ass- Now."

Dean grunted as he briskly ushered Lory through toward the back of the house "He's only been gone fifteen minutes!"

"Yeah, tell him that," Sam nodded to the back entrance.

Egar's car was parked in the back driveway, just a few meters closer to the house than the Impala.

"Shit! Front door! Front door!" Dean hissed, whipping Lory around.

Her foot caught in the area rug.

"Crap! Dean!" she chastised.

The three looked down in surprise at the portion of the white circle that once lay hidden beneath it. It was off-maroon in spots. They all realized at once.

Dried blood.

With one swift swoop of his large foot, Sam flattened the bubble in the rug and the three headed for the front door. Visible through the textured glass, a second figure approached.

"What?" Lory mouthed, looking between the boys for a solution.

"Who the hell is that?!" Dean rasped.

Barely audible, Sam nodded, "Okay, basement?"

There was no protest. The three made their way into the basement as quickly and quietly as they could. It was like running on tiptoes.

"Is there even a window?" Lory mouthed, using just enough of her voice for the men to barely pick up.

Dean's deep baritone carried a little more.

"There is. I saw one when we were parked."

"But there's no light…" she argued.

Sam pulled out his phone, the backlight just bright enough to reach the walls.

"That's why…"

It was boarded so tightly that no outside light penetrated the wood. Dean immediately began pulling at the boards, but they wouldn't budge. It was no use. They were trapped like rats.

"Shit… " he sighed before turning to his brother, "So, what now?"

Sam shrugged, at a loss for words. Dean then looked to his girlfriend, who was just as lost as he, and began to shift uneasily. They stood that way- silent and desperately thinking for a good four minutes. And then, Sam's phone began to buzz.

.