Two

"And ask not what the Lord can do for us," the preacher at the front of the old rickety church stood and read from the Bible laying flat with yellowing pages on the podium before him. "But what we can do in the name of the Lord."

The pews were surprisingly clear except for a few local neighbors on the street a few over from LeSalle's house and even then he didn't know them all by name. He took his usual spot on the far edge of the back pew on the right so that he wouldn't disturb the prayer that was to follow Father John's sermon. He hated arriving late, but he had stayed up far too late explaining his dreams to Loretta. He still couldn't fathom what they meant in the slightest, but he knew something big was coming. He could feel it in his bones like old men could predict the weather just by how their knee cracked that day. LeSalle had left at the break of dawn and walked down to the old church on the Bayou that was barely holding together at the seams due to a lack of funding and would probably end up in the water soon with the alligators like everything else did. He wasn't a particularly religious man, but LeSalle believed if anything could cure his thoughts and put his mind at peace even for just the time being it was a little spiritual guidance.

"Didn't think I'd see you here of all places faggot." A voice whispered from beside him. LeSalle didn't even have to look over to know who it was. It was none other than the red headed, buffed up, worst enemy of his family, and rival hunter Deacon Barnes.

"Ah Deacon I'm touched," LeSalle smirked. "You remembered my nickname."

"Wasn't hard," Deacon replied. "Considering you've been a pain in my neck since we could walk."

"You didn't like being neighbors with me?" LeSalle said in a mocking tone. "Oh that's just too bad. I would've asked your father to burn my house down sooner and kill my parents then maybe we'd have gotten along a lot better, then again, probably not."

"Can it pretty boy," Deacon grumbled. "Father John's trying to speak."

"I recall you being the one to address me," LeSalle folded his hands together over his chest as he sat and listened to the ending of the sermon of the day. "Right when it was getting to the part I wanted to hear."

"Jesus Christ." Deacon rolled his eyes.

"Hey don't take the good Lord's name in vain," LeSalle replied. "He won't like that."

"What would you know about the good Lord?" Deacon began his accusatory statements every time he and LeSalle were even within the same air space as each other. "You're nothing but a damn sinner. You and that Drew boy, I wish you would come to the light."

"Ain't nothing wrong with that in nobody's eyes but yours Deacon?" LeSalle cheekily replied. There was a deep rooted part of him that wanted to throw Deacon in the bayou and hope to God the gators would eat him, but there was another part of him that loved their banter back and forth and he didn't know what he'd do without it.

"Yeah whatever," Deacon replied. "You're still sinning."

"Tell that to those three drunks that mysteriously disappeared last Friday night," LeSalle hoped to change the subject even for a moment before the prayer required silence. "Alcohol is a sin according to this church and the big man up there. So don't tell me I'm sinning when you and your gang of hunter boys haven't done a damn thing about that now have you?"

Deacon didn't reply. That was the only answer LeSalle needed. Father John ordered prayer and everyone complied, even Deacon who LeSalle knew was biting at the bit to insult him further. Once Father John dismissed everyone LeSalle stood and made his way towards the wooden exit doors. When he walked down the concrete stairs to the moist soil he took a deep breath of the muggy swampy air. But there was something else that caught his eye. No one else appeared to see the ghostly figure of a woman dressed in raggedy clothes that had to be at least fifty years old if not older. She limped slightly over to the doors of the church, passing LeSalle in her wake. She turned her head towards his gaze and her golden eyes shot right through him to his very core. LeSalle shivered though the breeze was warm and watched as she passed through the double doors and disappeared into thin air. LeSalle felt a bit of unease as he continued on his way away from the church through the group of people who had attended that Sunday.

Suddenly a piercing scream was heard and all heads shot back towards the church. The doors flew open and Father John was clutching his now bloody chest. The preacher was struggling to breathe and almost every bystander was crying out in fear as the preacher fell to his knees in front of the church doors and reached his hands up in prayer.

"L-Lord," Father John stammered as his last few breaths were being taken. "Forgive me."

He then collapsed, dead, at the top of the stairs of the old church and a few people in the group screamed. It was suddenly a frenzy as Deacon ran up to Father John and rolled him over only to find five holes perfectly placed over his heart like a hand had reached out and grabbed it. Another brave person came up beside Deacon and inspected the body as Deacon shot his head up and glared at LeSalle who was the farthest away from the church. LeSalle knew Deacon thought he'd done it. Deacon wasn't above not accusing him for anything out of the ordinary. LeSalle's eyes drifted away from his less than friendly neighbor and to behind him where the ghost woman was standing in the doorway once again. She wore a delighted smirk on her face and then cocked her head and disappeared again. Deacon's stare bore into the back of LeSalle's head as he took off towards the direction of his house, refusing to look back.

-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-8-

"Drew," Delilah called from outside. "How's that painting coming along?"

"This is too much work for one person," Drew yelled back as he stuck his head out the window. His reddish brown hair was striped with light blue paint and he had a few smudges on his cheek bones that were covering up his freckles. "Can't I just wait til Sallie gets back to help me?"

"It builds character," Delilah went back to nailing the birdhouse that had fallen over in the last thunder storm to the ancient tree outside in the yard. "As that one shoe company says, just do it!"

Drew rolled his eyes and snaked his head back through the window and into the spare room upstairs that Delilah had insisted needed a fresh coat of paint for the summer. Nobody denied Delilah, for she was five foot six of concentrated sass. With her jet black short hair that matched LeSalle's natural color, one strip of it dyed blue, and her piercing green eyes she easily looked like a very intimidating woman. And she was, but only if you pissed her off or when she was hunting. She stepped back after she'd hung the birdhouse up straight and observed her work with a satisfied smile.

LeSalle trudged up the dirt driveway, passing his 1967 Mustang Fastback and affectionately patting his hand along the trunk which was filled with a hunter's arsenal. He rarely drove the car anymore due to the trio's lack of traveling beyond the parish and the city they called home. There was just too much going on in New Orleans to leave it. LeSalle sighed and moved on up the driveway towards where Delilah stood.

"Drew," Delilah called out. "Salle's home!"

Drew excitedly poked his head out of the window like a hyper puppy and called his boyfriend's name from up above him, but LeSalle didn't even look. He passed Delilah without a word and she followed his movements with confusion as he reached the gate leading to the backyard.

"How was church?" she asked.

"Enlightnin'." LeSalle unhooked the latch and made his way to the homemade throwing range he'd constructed for the household two summers before. Mostly because he got sick of losing knives in the swamp when his housemates tried to aim at trees in front of the creek behind the house. LeSalle went over to the shed nearby and grabbed his favorite throwing knife out of it before walking in front of the row of wooden targets he'd built himself. The image of the ghost flashed through his mind as he prepared to let his knife launch from his hand.

"They're coming for this town my boy."

His father's words echoed through his head and he pieced them together for the first time since he'd started having the nightmares. Something big was coming for New Orleans and his father wanted him to stop it. He knew exactly how his father wanted him to though and LeSalle wasn't about ready to do that. His lineage ran too dark for him to explain to other hunters. They were his friends sure, hell Drew was even dating him long term, but if they knew what he was really was they'd surely kill him where he stood. He'd managed to keep it under wraps for years now and he wasn't about to bring it to light.

He threw the knife and it stuck perfectly in the center of the blood red target.

Reviews are appreciated!

Sam and Dean will come in next chapter don't worry. Any guesses as to what LeSalle is? He surely appears human doesn't he?

More to come soon!