A/N: This chapter didn't turn out as I'd hoped but there was really no other way I could write it where it would fit the storyline and not seem to be either too random or out of place for the characters, etc.

Also I understand that people are confused as to why I made it so that the boys ended up in this AU minus their special weapons and to sum it up this way; it would've been too convenient for them to have those weapons on hand so easily, and especially considering that I had neglected to mention them for several chapters, it just would've been too easy to write them in, and part of the issue here is to make the boys vulnerable. They're in a new world, where the usual weapons don't work as effectively, so I had to make that vulnerability show, i.e. no special demon-killing knife or Archangel's blade. Plus there's also the issue of neither of them having the knife on hand when facing Castiel in the season finale, and Sam merely dropped the Archangel blade in surprise to Cas attacking him.

And as far as the "how" and "why" they're in the FMA-world? The answer is coming, trust me... :3

...

"Vampires?"

"Yes Ed, vampires."

"And they do what exactly?"

"Well their favorite pastime is to feed off your coronary artery. After that? Whatever it is, it's a product of boredom, selfish nature, or both."

"You mean…you mean they drink…..blood?"

It felt as though they'd run through the same material over and over again, Dean bringing up certain concepts and Ed reverting back to older topics again and again due to his endless flock of questions. One after another and it never ceased, there was just too much to learn, and whether or not he actually believed any of it was a mystery onto itself. He certainly seemed curious that was for sure, but he was guarded, holding himself back from becoming too involved into the conversation.

He still doesn't trust us, Sam thought.

"Blood. In various formats," Dean wasn't exactly the type of person to give a practical answer sans sarcasm, a characteristic evident not only in their own world but this one as well. He knew this must be overwhelming for the Elric's, but the tension from the past few days…..hell the past few years actually….was coming to a boil. He just didn't have the energy to go about this in a tactful, and quite frankly neither did Sam or Bobby, who sat patiently nearby to answer any questions if possible.

Al was the one Sam was mostly concerned for, given the hunter's knowledge of the spiritual realm and its connection with the living as well as inanimate objects. He was a fascinating yet scary specimen of "human", a soul bonded to a suit of armor. One who could walk and talk without a living body, but not only that, he could remember things, think for himself. But he knew that the younger Elric was unstable in this form, like most spirit attachments there was a chance of a backfire. At any given moment Al's soul could discontinue its connection with the armor, and where he would go from there was a mystery.

Sam knew all Hell would break loose (again) if word got out into their world that soul attachment was a possibility. Thinking about the immortal advantages of such a form, it would be total chaos back home if the demons ever considered bonding themselves to moveable inanimate objects. No flesh and blood body meant a form that wasn't easily injured nor worn down due to certain physical attributes such as hunger, thirst, sex, etc. It was no wonder the boys kept Al's true identity a secret, if things could get that bad in their world with soul attachment knowledge adrift, what with the alchemical advantages things would be far worse in this alternate universe. Sam couldn't even begin to imagine it all, it made his head hurt to think about it.

Or maybe that was just the tug of the old Wall again. His head had stopped its incessant pounding some time ago but it resurfaced every now and then with a dull ache that throbbed against his skull like the worst kind of headache. There and gone again, like a whisper, reminding him that things were as bad inside his head as they were outside in the real world…..or at least this one…..well…theirs too.

His focusing on their current situation, the newfound concepts of alchemy as well as the Elric's back-story came in handy to distract him from his own problems. The last thing he needed was another breakdown when he needed more than anything to stay vertical and alert. Thankfully there was a pharmacy just up the road from their (shudder) pink house, he'd have to make a stop and grab some aspirin if they had it.

"'Various formats'?" Al inquired, comically perched on the couch with his hands in his lap, seeming as though he could break anything and everything in the room if he made the wrong move. "Meaning what exactly?"

"Well they mostly prefer human," Bobby moved in to answer, "but some of them will settle for a dog or even a mountain lion."

"That's…just…..sick," Ed made a face, seemingly on the verge of throwing up, but he quickly recovered. "And you hunt all these things? Ghosts? Werewolves?...And what the hell is a Pagan god?"

They would be at this all night if they told them every little detail, but Sam had warned the Elrics that this might take some time, even though there was a slight chance Ed would just ditch the whole thing altogether and tell them to go screw themselves. That seemed a more fitting Edward Elric-type approach as opposed to this "okay I'll bite" routine he was pulling, leading Sam to believe the boy was either just humoring them for the sake of his own entertainment, or he had something else up his red sleeve.

"Well if you think vampires are 'sick' wait until you hear what Pagan's like to do in their spare time," Dean replied flippantly, leaning back to lounge on the other end of the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Let's not overload them okay?" Bobby interjected, looking at Dean pointedly with that fatherly-type authoritative expression of his, to which Dean automatically complied with a mumbled "whatever". Bobby rolled his eyes but said nothing.

"Yes Ed we hunt these things," Sam inserted his two-cents in. "It's not the greatest job in the world but someone has to do it."

"But why?" Ed challenged, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of an understanding, something Sam couldn't quite place. "Why you? Why not let someone else handle it?"

There had been so many times when Sam had asked himself that question, countless moments where he wondered if it was even worth the effort of getting up each morning, or instead of sleeping they'd go on an all-nighter and then some with a maximum of a few hours of sleep in a given week's average. Especially now he questioned it, with his noggin on the verge of a meltdown and their world's inevitable chance of collapsing, Castiel's disastrous setback, not to mention the billions and billions of lives that were on their hands simply because they could tackle the evil that threatened to annihilate the planet whereas no ordinary human could. What made it worth it? What was it that gave them the strength to get out of bed and hunt the bad guys each night? They didn't get paid for it, didn't receive any thanks (mostly), and their lives were shit; just complete and utter shit.

Sam recalled those times where he'd managed to break free of the hunter lifestyle, to find his own place, make his own way into the world. Somehow it had always managed to backfire, erupting right into his face, leaving him slightly crippled and practically crawling back to his family. He could never truly get away from it; no matter how hard he had tried he had never succeeded in eradicating such a way of life from his everyday existence. It was in his blood, it was the only lifestyle he knew he could commit too without a doubt, there was just no other way around it. But how could he explain all that to Ed without diving into the more personal aspects of what they hunted? How their family had been torn and shredded again and again by the very things they killed, and yet they still pressed on, fighting the good fight for another day. No, Ed wouldn't understand all that, not even Al could understand it. There was just too much to the story.

So what then?

"What makes it worth it for you Ed?" Sam asked him instead, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed where he'd been standing for the past hour or so they'd been at this little interrogation. "Why do you still have hope in your brother? Most people can't handle it when something this drastic happens to their own family, and they have to adjust big time. Why do you keep at it?" Blue-green eyes collided with skeptical gold ones, Sam looking at Ed directly now, "We're the only ones that can do it because we're the only ones that understand what makes this life what it is. No one else can do it, because they don't get it, and "getting it" requires more than just knowing how to fight and shoot things. You stick with your brother because you get him right? No one else could handle that except you."

Ed simply stared at him, all traces of humor having left his face, and that sense of understanding Sam had noticed now blossomed into a look that was very familiar to him, or at the very least it was a look that he often saw on Dean once in a while. It was that silent battle cry expression his brother got when things were getting bad and it was a "now or never" type situation.

If I'm gonna go down, I'm gonna go down swinging.

Sam hadn't heard those words in what seemed like a lifetime, but they rang loud and clear now as they did then. If there was ever one thing, just one single thing, that he could count on the most from his brother, it was the fact that he wouldn't give up. That he would fight the good fight until he was left in a bloody mess on the floor, though Sam had the insane idea that Dean would continue fighting even as a ghost. It just wasn't in his nature to give up, right up until the last minute.

Ed understood that concept; Sam could see that in the mellow of his golden eyes and the silence with which he presented to them as a means of answering the question. The room was quiet for a moment, save for the random faint sounds of the city life that bustled past just outside these walls; cars driving by, people walking to and fro either with their families or a friend. Dogs barked, children laughed, couples kissed, siblings screamed and chased each other, it was a world oblivious to the chaos that thrived just below its surface. The atmosphere of this alternate universe mirrored that of their own world; so much going on underneath their senses, and yet only those with experience of what was truly out there could detect what lay beneath.

Change Ed and Al's names and this would be an almost uncanny copy of their lives but with an alchemical twist.

"So…" Bobby interrupted the awkward silence by clearing his throat, "How's about that Alchemy lesson hmm?"

Ed and Al watched them closely for a moment, turning to give each other knowing looks, then redirecting their gazes back to the three hunters. Ed leaned forward onto his leg with his chin propped up in his metallic-gloved hand, a sly grin curving its way like a snake onto his youthful face.

"I don't think so."

Dean frowned, scoffed, shook his head and looked at Ed as though he'd spoken in a foreign language, "Come again Danny DeVito?"

Ed arched an eyebrow, the only indication of a response to the "DeVito" bit, "What's the problem?"

"I thought you said you'd help us," Bobby replied, agitated, "what's with the turn around?"

"I said I'd listen to what you have to say," Ed answered calmly. "I never said I'd believe any of it or that I'd help you learn Alchemy, besides" he stood up, brushing off his coat, "you need a qualified teacher to do that and I'm not that person."

"Brother…" Al began, but Ed cut him off.

"No Al, we've delayed enough by entertaining these guys and their crazy stories."

"But Ed-"

"I said no Al!"

Alphonse stared at his brother for a moment, seemingly debating whether or not to argue, but he inevitably gave in, turning his head to face the floor with a submissive sigh.

Ed, understanding that his brother was no longer going to object, made a move to leave, but Sam cut him off before he could reach the door. "So that's it then?"

Edward's head snapped back, he pointed an accusatory metal finger at Sam, "You drop in on us, learn a few things, attempt to use them to manipulate us into working with you, and you expect me to believe everything you say?"

Sam shook his head, "I'm not asking for you to believe us I'm just asking for you to help us. Or is that too much for you?" His tone had a bit of its own sarcasm creeping in with each passing moment that his anger was flaring.

"Oh let it go Sam," Dean rose to his feet as well, heading towards the kitchen. "It's obvious he's got beef with us so just let him at it," he pulled a bottle of tequila from one of the cabinets, pouring himself a shot-glass full, "I'm not big on hanging out with a couple of kids with issues anyway, too much of a headache."

Ed whipped his head around to glare at Dean, admonishing in a menacing tone, "You better watch yourself Winchester."

"Bring it on short-stop," Dean countered automatically, taking a sip of his drink.

Ed made a move to go after him but Sam grabbed him by the shoulder, at which Ed knocked his hand away like a rebellious child.

Sam took a step back, "What the hell's your problem? You act like I'm out to get you or something!"

"For all I know that's exactly what you're trying to do," Ed glared at Sam. "What makes you think that simply because you know about my brother that gives you the right to start asking for favors?"

"What about Equivalent Exchange?" Sam pointed out, "Isn't that some kind of a guideline you Alchemists live by?"

"Don't try that with me," Ed retorted, clenching his hand into a fist. "You don't have anything I need so what's the point? I tell you what you need to know and you tell me nothing? That's not Equivalent Exchange! That's bullshit!"

"What about what we know?" Bobby piped in, rising to his feet from one of the armchairs to stomp around and stand next to Sam in order to face Edward. "Do you honestly think we're a couple of ignorants here? Well let me tell you something kid," Bobby moved to stand right in front of Ed, towering over him slightly, "I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I've been around a time or two and believe me when I say I know some things that would make your skin crawl!"

"Is that so?" Ed had to crane his neck to look at the elder hunter, but he maintained a sense of bravado nonetheless.

Bobby looked him square in the eye, "You're damn right it is."

Edward was silent for a moment, his eyes darting from Bobby to Sam and back again, even casting a furtive glance in Dean's direction, who had finished off his drink and was prowling his way around the counter to stand in between Sam and Bobby. He stood there staring at the eldest Elric, arms folded across his chest, that same challenging expression he sometimes got when he was on the verge of provoking someone into making a move. "So what's it going to be Elric? Ditch or dive?"

Ed narrowed his gaze on Dean, "What exactly do you think you have to offer me?" He rocked on his heels to lean slightly away from the three of them bearing down on him, "More sarcastic remarks? Empty promises?"

"Empty promises?" Sam furrowed his eyebrows, "as in what?"

"I don't know it might have something to do with this nonsense you mentioned about resurrection?" Ed's expression was incredulous, "Sounds dead-end to me, there's no such thing as bringing someone back to life."

Dean shifted his weight, his discomfort with that statement noticeable only to Sam and Bobby, but regardless he still responded, "Oh trust me pal, it's not as dead-end as you might think. Not to say that it's a smart thing to do."

"Then tell me how it's done," Edward replied instantly, his expression now neutral.

"No way," Dean shook his head. "I'm only going as far as to tell you it's possible, no way in hell am I telling you how it's done."

"Because it can't be done that's why," Ed countered, his neutral look turning skeptical. "Trust me I've been down that road, I know it's not possible."

"And I'm telling you I've been down that road and it is possible," Dean's voice was beginning to gain an octave or two.

"Where's the proof?" Ed scoffed at Dean's efforts, "There's no such thing as the ability to create life outside of natural order, much less give life back to something that's lost it."

"Where's your proof that it can't be done?" Dean inquired challengingly, "Where we come from there's more to the world than some stupid parlor tricks performed by a blue light, trust me on that one."

Ed sighed heavily, reaching into his coat to pull out a small leather-bound booklet, it had bits of paper sticking out of it and reminded Sam strongly of housewives writing down information regarding a new recipe for a meal or drink in their own little books. He opened it up with a flip of his hand, thumbing through a couple of pages, stopping on one page in particular to recite: "Water, 35 liters. Carbon, 20 kilograms. Ammonia, 4 liters. Lime, 1.5 kilograms. Phosphorous, 800 grams. Salt, 250 grams. Saltpeter, 100 grams. Sulfur, 80 grams. Fluorine, 7.5, iron, 5, silicon, 3 grams, and trace amounts of 15 other elements."

Dean arched an eyebrow, "And what the hell is all that?"

"It's all the components that make up the average adult human body," Ed replaced the small book inside his jacket. "Scientist have spent years trying to crack the code on creating human life but the end results are always the same; nothing. The only way to successfully create a human being is by the traditional methods."

"You mean sex of course," Dean asked pointedly.

Ed's faced turned beet red but he carried on as though Dean's words hadn't bothered him, "Those components can be bought off the market with a child's wages, so it's not hard to gather the necessary materials to create a human. We really are cheap to make."

"By your standards maybe," Bobby replied sarcastically, "There's more to it than the scientific point of view Elric."

"Maybe so, but what other way is there?"

"The way that involves less bullshit maybe?" Dean retorted, "What's next, are you going to tell me we evolved from apes?"

"Well….actually," Ed began, but Bobby cut him off.

"We're not about to get into some kind of Evolutionary debate here alright?" He folded his arms across, "save that for the professors at Yale or Harvard, right now I'm more concerned about our next move considering it's lacking an alchemy-boost."

"Sorry," Ed shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets, appearing indifferent to their predicament. "Can't help you. If you're really in as much trouble as you seem write a letter to the Fuhrer, maybe he'll make a charity case out of you."

"Brother," Al replied sternly.

"Wow," Dean chuckled, a sinister grin creeping over his face, "you sure are cocky for a red-coated midget."

Not exactly the best thing he could've said.

Ed's face when from blank, to white as the color drained for a split-second, to a pink that matched the wallpaper of the room, ending in a red so vicious it matched the color of his coat perfectly. He was furious, enough to point at Dean with his metallic hand and roar, "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A RED-COATED MIDGET YOU GHOST-HUNTING FREAK?"

Dean's eyes had widened at Ed's outburst, he even appeared caught off guard by it, but his humor was certainly not misplaced. He glanced at Sam, "Spastic little runt isn't he?"

One of the things they should've purchased at the store was a shovel, mainly because Dean was digging himself into a hole more and more each time he opened his mouth. Sam hadn't thought it was possible but Ed had turned an even deeper shade of red, it was a wonder steam wasn't coming out of the kid's ears.

What happened next occurred so rapidly it made Sam's head spin; Ed clapped his hands together, the sound of fleshing slapping against metal echoing through the room. He touched his left hand to his right wrist and, with a burst of blue light, transmuted a blade out of his own metallic arm. The blade slid out from beneath his sleeve, ripping the white glove from his hand. He crouched a bit, legs spread and slightly bent, what Sam could only guess was a battle stance.

But Ed hadn't been the only one to draw a weapon, at the same time that Elric had produced his blade Dean had pulled out a weapon of his own. It was a handgun, semi-automatic, military edition that he'd had tucked away in his jacket. Most of the handguns they'd purchased were standard for Amestris, used frequently by military personnel, some even kept the guns at hand when they were off duty.

Sam and Bobby had leapt out of the way just in time for Edward's metal arm to shift into a blade that took up most of his forearm and hung out over his hand. Al had leapt to his feet, his hand outstretched as though he meant to lay it on Ed's shoulder but was afraid to, "Brother please!"

Bobby's hands were held up, palms out, in a submissive gesture, "Whoa take it easy. Let's not start ganking each other over some silly remark."

"Oh let him go Bobby," Dean scoffed, "it's obvious he's been itching to sink his fist into some poor bastard's face at any time, he just needed an excuse to do it. Go ahead kid, make your move. But I can't promise you I won't take off a portion of your skull if you try it."

Sam's head whipped around to glare at his brother in disapproval, "Shut up Dean!"

But Al was taking matters into his own hands, ginormous though they were. He used the momentary distraction to position himself in between Ed and Dean, his hands raised in the same passive format as Bobby's. "Please stop," he pleaded, "Don't shoot my brother. Please."

"Move it Al, this has nothing to do with you," Dean warned, his focus on a point just past Al's waist-level where he could see a smidgen of Ed's profile.

"Get out of the way Al!" Ed shouted, but his brother ignored him.

"If you plan on shooting Ed than I don't plan on moving," Al straightened up, placing his hands at his sides in a stubborn fashion. "Just know if you shoot, the bullet will ricochet off my chest and probably come back to hurt you."

Dean seemed to waver for a moment, his gaze going from Al, to the bit of red-coat that was Ed he could see past the gap between Al's arm and waist, and back to Al again. He kept the gun trained on the two of them, finger poised on the trigger, and when he finally came to a decision he lowered the weapon, allowing the barrel to aim towards the floor.

"Alright fine. Take your little runt of a brother and get going. Forget you ever saw us."

"DON'T... CALL… ME… A RUNT." Ed came around his brother, clapped his hands together once again, then immediately lowering to the floor, placing his hands against the wooden surface. A burst of blue light and the floor came apart beneath them, Sam and Bobby leaping out of the way, Dean jumping back to avoid the hole that had just formed right below his feet. He toppled over, falling back onto his rear, rolling out of the way to avoid the second wave of blue light that shook the house and the hole grew wider and appeared to be following Dean as he jumped to his feet and dove out of the living room to hide behind the door in the dining room.

Sam darted back into the living room, leaping over furniture to make his way to the other side of the kitchen counter, where he knelt down and out of sight just as the third wave swept through the other half of the living room knocking over the coffee table, couch as well as the armchairs. Bobby had moved to hide with Dean in the dining room, but whether or not he'd made it Sam didn't know, the living room took up most of the front part of the house, and the dining room entryway from this side was out of view from the kitchen.

"Ed!" Sam heard Al yell from somewhere off, "What are you doing? You're destroying the house!"

"He was going to shoot me Al!" Ed roared back, "A maimed house is the least of his worries!"

"But he wouldn't have held a gun to you if you hadn't threatened him!"

"Now's not the time for morals! Where'd they go anyway?"

Sam heard Al mutter something incoherent, but he was sure the boy was quietly reprimanding his brother for flying off the handle like that. Sam felt like yelling at Dean for doing his own "flying", but now wasn't the time. If Ed was capable of tearing the house apart using Alchemy, there was no telling what else he was capable of. That little trick he pulled with making a blade out of his own arm had taken Sam by surprise, he hadn't expected Ed could do that, but then again he was an Alchemist. There was no telling what he could do once he set his mind to it.

At risk of receiving some more of the backlash from Ed and Dean's little spat; Sam peeked cautiously around the corner. He spotted Al instantly, standing in the middle of the living room facing towards the hallway that lead down the center of the house. The younger Elric had a hand pressed to the back of his head, a gesture Sam instantly recognized as a sign of him being nervous. He was looking pointedly in the direction of the hallway, leaving Sam to think…..

He spun around and got to his feet in time to see Ed standing in the doorway of the kitchen that lead out into the central hallway, brandishing his bladed right arm out in front of him as though expecting Sam to attack him. The younger Winchester held up his hands, going head-to-head with Edward wasn't the smartest decision to make.

"Hold up, just take it easy."

"Take it easy?" Ed mocked him, "Your brother just threatened to kill me and you want me to take it easy?"

"You're not the only one he's done that to okay?" Sam's voice was rising right along with Ed's, "Believe me he's threatened to knock me out a time or two, it's the product of being brothers."

"That's insane!" Ed shouted

"No one is going to hurt you!" Sam bellowed, losing his patience. "Why do you have to go into attack-mode for every little damn thing?"

"Brother! Stop!" Sam heard Al shout but he wasn't going to divert his gaze from Edward's to see him.

"Did you forget that I saved your ass?" Sam challenged the blonde-haired boy.

"I never asked for your help so I don't owe you a damn thing!" Ed fired back, swiping his outstretched blade as he spoke.

Sam scoffed, shaking his head. This was like dealing with a younger version of Dean; always of the need to be right, always having to act the tough guy of the two of them. Hell it even echoed the adult version of his brother; just more hair and a hell of a lot less height. Give Dean a red coat and some white gloves, a few lessons in Alchemy to top it off, and he and Ed could be one dynamic duo of epic proportions. Sam would've laughed if he thought Ed wouldn't take it the wrong way and spaz out again.

Instead he stretched out his arms on either side of himself, taking a step forward as he presented his defenseless front in the field of Edward's strike-zone. "Fine. Take your best shot," he dared the older Elric.

Edward continued to glare at Sam, but made not move to attack him. Instead he straightened, clapped his hands together, placing his left hand to his right wrist once again. A burst of blue light ant the blade disappeared to reveal his metal arm once again. Though he held no weapons in hand, Ed still kept his hands clenched into fists, still untrusting of the younger Winchester, "I'm not going to kill you. I don't do that."

"I know that," Sam replied calmly.

Edward quirked an eyebrow, "Do you?"

"I heard you last night," Sam lowered his hands and took a cautionary step forward, "no one who is that passionate about saving people's lives would be quick to slice up a guy no matter how much he'd been rubbed the wrong way."

The corner of Ed's mouth twitched, whether in irritation or that he was on the verge of grinning Sam couldn't be sure. He certainly didn't appear amused in the slightest, but neither was he going berserk which was a plus.

"Brother?" Al's voice came in from where in the central hallway.

"It's okay Al," Ed called back to him, "we're getting out of here." He shoved his hands back into his jacket-pockets and turned to leave. Sam started to follow him, making sure to keep a bit of distance between them for safety's sake. He didn't want Ed flying off the handle again at the slightest provocation.

Just as they were entering the living room once again, Dean appeared through the dining room door, gun aimed at the older Elric, finger ready and waiting over the trigger. Al saw this, leapt around his brother to position himself in between Ed and Dean, arms spread out. "STOP!"

Dean's immediate reaction was based solely on survival instinct, his reflexes acting ahead of him as he squeezed the trigger. A loud bang, a noise that sounded like a PING, Dean's sudden stream of curses, the gun falling, firing again on accident, another bullet ricocheting off Al's body with the same PING noise. The bullet whizzing past Dean and sinking into the wall. Sam moving back to get away from Ed's sudden fist of fury, feeling the pain of the young boy's metallic knuckles sinking into his stomach just as his left fist connected with Sam's jaw. The younger Winchester stumbled back, taking a swing at Ed's face, missing by inches as the boy leapt out of the way and made for the door.

"Let's go Al!" He shouted after his brother, wrenching the door open, the knob banging against the wall. Al turned and darted outside to follow his brother. Ed reached inside, grabbed a hold of the door handle, and slammed it shut. There was a burst of blue light from outside, but whatever Ed had transmuted this time wasn't immediately perceivable, leaving the trio in suspense wondering about it as Bobby came out of the dining room as well, double-barrel shotgun in hand. Being careful to avoid the huge gap in the floor, he smashed a hole in one of the front windows, aimed it and was prepared to shoot, but didn't fire a single shot.

"What are you waiting for?" Dean hollered in his direction, "Put some lead in that shrimp!" He straightened up from picking his gun up off the floor, his left hand clasped to his right shoulder, where blood was beginning to seep through his jacket.

"He's too far up the road," Bobby pulled the gun out of the window and leaned it against the wall. "If I take a shot now we'll have a hard time explaining why we're trying to attack a military official."

"Dammit," Dean muttered to himself, moving over to sit against the arm of the only piece of furniture, a loveseat that hadn't been effected by the Alchemical tidal waves that had uprooted most of the living room floor. He took a moment to peek under the flap of his jacket to inspect the damage the bullet had made.

"How bad is it?" Bobby asked him, leaning over to take a look.

"Just got clipped, I'll live." Dean replied, shrugging out of his jacket as he prepared to dress the wound.

Sam shuffled through the debris in the floor and went to test the knob on the front door, having the distinct feeling that whatever Alchemy Ed had performed just now must've affected the front of the house in some way. His first try at opening the door and it remaining closed was proof enough that his theory had been right, his second attempt, given a more forceful approach, was equally as failing.

"Tell me that son of a bitch didn't jam the door," Dean commented, lifting up his shirt to apply some gauze to stop the minor bleeding.

"Seems like it," Sam replied, pounding a fist against the wood out of sheer petulance. "Why'd you have to shoot him?"

"It was an accident," Dean countered defensively, "I saw Al come out of nowhere and I was pulling the trigger before I had time to think. You would've done the same thing."

Sam, knowing that Dean was right, said nothing, instead he went about putting the downed furniture upright, kicking the hunks of wood that were scattered about around the edges of the great big holes in the floor on either side of the entryway. From the looks of it, when Ed had been standing in the middle of the room transmuting these gaps during his spaz-attack, he'd simply created a hole in one direction, then turned around and immediately did one in the opposite direction just as Sam had been escaping the living room. In the dim lighting down below you could see bits and pieces of the crawlspace from beneath the house. Which of course was pink like the rest of the house. Go figure.

"I owe that kid a blast of buckshot for this shit," Dean finished mopping up the blood with one gauze and applying another in preparation for taping it down.

"Let's figure out our next move before we go around shooting anybody okay?" Bobby helped to tear off small pieces of the tape, handing them to Dean so he could secure the gauze-patch on his shoulder.

"Well at least we know where they're going," Sam replied, setting the couch back on its feet and sliding it away from the edge of the hole.

"You mean Lior?" Bobby straightened, moving around the hole in the floor to retrieve his shotgun. "You want to follow those two? After what just happened?"

"You got a better idea?" Sam confronted him, making his way to the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of the tequila Dean had drunk from earlier.

"Well if we're going to be the involuntary tag-team to their crazy antics then I think we should wait until they're slightly ahead of us before we start stalking them," Bobby pointed out.

"All I want is a chance to get back at the short one," Dean finished dressing the wound, then stood up to put his shirt back on followed by his jacket. "You two can do whatever the hell you want after that."

"Dean we're not going to keep doing this okay? He doesn't trust us enough as it is, you want to make it worse by starting a feud?" Sam asked him, downing his shot and pouring another.

"Seems to me as though the feud's already started Sammy," Dean replied acerbically, "You honestly think the next time they see us that Ed's not going to try and cut us to ribbons?"

"I'm just saying we can at least try to avoid it as much as possible," Sam corrected him.

"Right, that whole 'let's talk to them maybe they'll be understanding' thing you're so fond of. By the way how's that going for you now?"

"Are you two going to keep bickering like the Foreman's or are we gonna get moving?" Bobby interrupted before Sam could make a comeback.

One hour later and they had their duffels packed, a couple bottles of the good stuff stashed away in each just in case, each wrapped securely in the (pink) towels Dean had found in the bathroom, the only souvenir either one of them planned to take back with them from this house. Since Ed's transmutation had jammed the door, exiting out the front was no longer an option, and the funny thing about this house was…no back door. Queue Dean's elbow smashing into one of the back windows, knocking it completely out, and climbing through the hole he'd made. Thankfully the house was only one story, and the crawlspace wasn't that big, therefore the height from ground to the window wasn't too great that they couldn't simply drop down so long as they kept their knees bent. After making sure they had all they needed, the trio walked towards the front of the house, duffelbags slung over their shoulders, seemingly like three soldiers marching into a battle that lay in waiting for them.

"Are we driving there?' Dean glanced up and down the street at the cars parked along the sides of the road. "I could probably wire one of those and we can just do the usual road trip routine."

"Even if you could manage to get a hold of a car without alerting its owner to it being stolen," Bobby replied sarcastically, "do you even know how the hell we're getting to Lior after that?"

"Train station it is then," Sam adjusted the weight of his duffel and started off in the direction he'd seen the Elric's heading in earlier when they'd encountered each other in the street.

"And no making any choo-choo sounds okay kid?" Bobby reminded Dean in a mocking tone before following Sam, at which Dean frowned then gave a muttered "whatever" and something about hating "that damn blue train from the kid's show" as he started after the other two.