Sam didn't realize how protectively he had been clutching Dean until his brother's eyes regained their focus and looked up at him questioningly. Then annoyed. Sam might have tentatively agreed to stop hovering, or at least give Dean some space, but all bets were off given that he'd only a minute ago walked in on what looked like his brother's dead body.

It was hard enough when the demons were going after random innocent people, but for them to go right for those closest to him was too much. Especially now. It wasn't like they were strangers to it, but he'd naively hoped that it would have ended with the Yellow Eyed Demon. Sam saw that same sentiment echoed in Dean's eyes as he helped his brother to sit up.

"Dean, what happened?"

"Same demons. They got the jump on us...I couldn't stop them." It sounded like Dean expected him to be mad, or more likely, Dean was just angry with himself.

Even if Sam didn't know his brother, anyone could look at him and see that Dean hadn't stood by and let the demons take Bobby. His brother had obviously fought like hell to try to stop them. That was probably why Dean looked so dejected. It didn't matter how hard they fought. It didn't seem to matter what they did at all.

He wanted to make Dean see that it wasn't his fault, not by a long shot. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that Dean wouldn't believe him. Usually that was irrelevant. Dean didn't believe a lot of what he said and Sam usually didn't care, but he had a feeling that pushing this now would just lead to Dean saying more things that he wanted to keep to himself. His brother was discouraged enough without being reminded that he didn't even have control over his own words.

"We'll get him back."

"Or die trying," Dean agreed far too adamantly.

Sam just bit his tongue until Dean abruptly started to stand. "Hey, slow down."

"So they have longer to make sure that Bobby is extra dead?" Dean asked, completely ignoring Sam's attempt to stop him from getting to his feet too fast.

Dean's face contorted as he stiffly moved to stand upright, but he ended up not falling back down. That was honestly more than Sam had expected that Dean was capable of right now.

They were both use to being knocked around. He knew Dean could take a lot more than anyone should be able to and keep right on swinging. Unless Sam thought it was life threatening, he usually gave Dean his space to pretend it didn't hurt, but usually Dean had enough sense to take care of himself.

That was before his brother had gotten more stupidly suicidal than normal. Now he had no doubt that Dean wouldn't think twice about pushing himself beyond what even his body was capable of taking. So if Dean thought he was going to back off anytime soon, he could just forget it. But for the moment, Sam just gave Dean a disapproving shake of his head and remained ready to catch his brother if he had to.

"Bobby is going to be fine, but you have to get cleaned up first."

"Bobby is probably already dead, but that doesn't mean I'm going to soak with a bottle of Mr. Bubbles while they mangle his corpse."

"We just need to clean your face, Dean."

"Just forget about me already! I'm not the ones that got snatched by the Manson Family."

"No, but you are the one that's all over the news, and that Night of the Living Dead look – not exactly inconspicuous," Sam shot back with a raised brow.

At that Dean finally seemed to take stock of himself enough to realize that wasn't sweat he was blinking from his eye. Dean brought his sleeve up like he was just going to wipe the blood away, but Sam grabbed Dean's arm before it made it to his face. There was already enough grit in the abrasions without Dean rubbing his dirty shirt over it.

"Don't touch it," Sam chastised.

"You're bossy."

Aside from his truthful, toddler like commentary, Dean actually listened, but probably just because his brother's mind was already on hunting these demons. At least it gave Sam a second to find something else to clean Dean up with.

"Just stay here a minute."

Sam's eyes went to the clunker he had earlier pegged for Bobby's car. When he walked over and really looked at it he realized that the front door was ajar with the key still in the lock. Dean and Bobby really hadn't had any warning.

He opened the door and dug out the bottle of holy water he knew Bobby would have stashed in there. When he returned to his brother's side his frown deepened at Dean's expression. His brother was way too lost in thought to be thinking about anything good.

Abruptly Dean looked up at him when he noticed that he was back, but just glared impatiently when he saw what was in his hand.

"That better be vodka." But Dean obviously knew it wasn't. "I'm not possessed."

Sam didn't think that his brother was possessed. He just needed something to wash the blood off Dean's face and Bobby didn't seem to see a point in carrying water if it wasn't blessed.

"I know, but you are a mess."

"You're telling me."

Even though he had almost entirely convinced himself that Dean wasn't possessed, he still felt a slight sense of reassurance when Dean's reaction to the water over the cuts was fully human. He was even more relieved to see that the injury was only superficial. The top few layers of skin had been skimmed off, making for a lot of blood, but no significant damage.

The sound of footsteps echoed nearby and they both went on full alert, scanning the area. Sam relaxed slightly when he saw that it was just a couple of kids and their parents heading to their car a few rows over. He used his body to block the family's view of his injured brother.

Again his mind flashed to last night at the diner and Dean's hidden desire for a family. It wasn't fair that his brother had to be standing here bleeding and kicking himself for not having been able to stop a pack of demons while everyone else in this hotel enjoyed a vacation. It wasn't fair that his brother was dying.

"Sam, remember that suffocating thing? You're doing it again."

"Right. Sorry."

He backed away to give Dean some space, but Dean wasn't just looking for space. His brother's anxious stance screamed loud and clear that he wanted to get the hunt started. The problem was they didn't even know who they were hunting or what the demons wanted. The bigger problem was the fact that he knew Dean didn't even care.

"Why are we still here?" his brother asked impatiently.

"Because I'm trying to think, Dean," Sam replied.

He had been going for a calm, soothing tone, but it had come out clipped at best. It would be one thing if they just had Bobby to worry about, but with Dean's recent antics Sam was terrified that Dean was going to find some way to get himself killed.

"Think in the car or go up to the room and think. I don't care. I'm going."

"Where, Dean?" Sam asked quickly before Dean could slip past him. "Where are you going?"

"They gave me an address."

"The demons? For what?"

"To pickup Bobby."

Sam scoffed in disbelief. "Yeah...because that's not a trap."

"Of course it is." Dean didn't have any choice but to admit that, though it was his next statement that was really the point. "But, dude, it's Bobby."

And those words said it all. Dean was right. Bobby would do anything for them and they owed Bobby beyond anything they could ever repay. But that was also what scared him. Sam knew Dean would do anything for Bobby and right now Dean didn't have his usual reservations, which hadn't been much to begin with.

Rescuing Bobby was a given, they just had to be smart about it. Ideally he'd like Dean to stay as far away from this as possible, but right now it didn't look like there was anywhere Dean was going to be safe even if he could do the impossible and convince his brother to stay behind. The only choice was for them to stay together.

"I know," Sam replied. "So how do you want to do this?"

"Fast."

"We need a plan."

"I got a plan."

"One that doesn't start and end with 'get Bobby back'."

"That was my plan," his brother replied indignantly.

"I know. Your plan sucks, Dean."

"All my plans suck. What's your great plan?"

"We have to figure out who we're dealing with."

"We let hundreds of random demons escape from the gate. It's not like we can just look these sons of bitches up. That's why we called Bobby and now they got Bobby. This is my fault and don't say it isn't," Dean warned. "My head hurts too much to argue."

Sam had been so distracted by the blaringly obvious, superficial wound on Dean's face he had totally forgotten about his brother's head injury. Dean had been unconscious in the utility closet so someone had again knocked him out.

When Sam's eyes grew all the more concerned, Dean just glared all the harder. "Stop looking at me like that. I'm f...freakin' son of a bitch," his brother grumbled to himself.

Sam was pretty sure that Dean had just tried to tell him he was fine, but his truth telling brain wouldn't let him say it. That was good by Sam, if he had a quarter for every time Dean had told him he was fine while his brother was trying to hold his own guts in, he'd be a millionaire.

Despite Dean's apparent misconception, whenever he asked how his brother was doing, it was never meant as an annoyance. He actually wanted a legitimate answer. If Dean was hurting he wanted to know. The only time he wanted to hear the word 'fine' come out of his brother's mouth was if it was the truth. Really, he never wanted to hear the word again.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure I'm not. No one here is okay so stop asking. Are you coming or not?"

"So we're just going to walk into their trap blind?"

"Of course not. We're going to sneak in with our eyes open and buckets of holy water. It's a really stupid plan and they're probably gonna kill me, but I'm not going to let them hurt Bobby just because they want a piece of me."

"They're probably after me."

"Obviously not. You know I wouldn't take you if I thought they were. They want the cuter brother."

The corner of Sam's lips upturned just a touch. Dean had actually managed to say something not derogatory about himself. He knew far better than to say anything because giving Dean a gold star for self-esteem would be enough to land Sam on the floor bloodier than his brother.

"It doesn't matter what they want. They're jumping bodies too fast, Dean. We need to get them on our own turf."

"What the Impala? This hotel room? We don't have a turf here, Sam. Even if we did, I'm not gonna screw around with trying to devil trap one of these bastards while the other three are holding Bobby's head over us. We get Bobby back then we worry about the demons."

"Okay," Sam reluctantly agreed. "Maybe they at least won't be expecting us to walk in there in broad daylight." He grabbed the keys out of the door of Bobby's car. "Let's get what we need out of the Impala and hit the road."

"What?" Dean looked like he'd just told him that he was going to have to cut off his own head. Actually Dean probably would have looked a lot less appalled if he had said that. "I'm not abandoning my car for that unholy piece of crap."

"We'll come back for it, but we're not going to get far if someone sees you in the Impala."

"I'll ride in the trunk."

"No, you won't. Where is this place anyway?"

"Back in Jersey."

"You serious? Dean...this is..."

"All levels of bad, believe me, I know. We don't exactly have a choice here, Sam."

That was exactly what he was afraid of.

----

Saddle River, New Jersey

Every muscle in Bobby's body ached in protest from being stiffly bound in a wingback chair that was no doubt worth more than his entire house. He hadn't seen the exterior of the place, but the furnishings just in this room were the richest he'd ever laid eyes on. Judging by the size of this bedroom, the place had to be enormous. He'd been hauled off to a lot of places in his time, but never anywhere like this.

While it was the cleanest of places he'd ever been trussed up in, that very fact had the hair on the back of his neck standing up more than anything. Either these demons were damn sloppy with this desire of theirs to run around in the public spotlight or they just had that much power backing them.

The aching in his bones and burning cuts in his skin barely registered as his mind desperately wondered what had become of the boys. When these things had come out of nowhere, Dean had jumped them before Bobby had even realized what was happening.

The kid had got knocked around something fierce and hadn't stood a chance. He'd seen a couple of them haul the boy's body up but hadn't seen what had become of Dean after that. For all he knew Dean was already dead, but if that was the case, he wouldn't want to be the demon gawking at him right now. It was already clear as day that this thing wasn't firing on all cylinders.

Blood began to seep through his shirt as the demon sliced another cut along his arm. It would be one thing if the demon was looking for info or just wanting to torture him for the hell of it. That he at least could understand, but every time it cut him, it cut itself in the same spot.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he gasped through gritted teeth.

"If there's anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, Grizzly Adams, please just let me know. Can I get you beer or a fine chardonnay perhaps?"

"You best hope these ropes hold 'cause I ain't in no mood for playing. What do you want to know?"

"I'm sure that thick skull of yours is just a fountain of information." The demon brought the blade of the knife up to his cheek. Bobby tried to pull back, but there wasn't any getting away. "But all you have to do is sit there and bleed. I could do it myself, but it wouldn't be half the fun. Besides, it's a nice little something to help pass the time until your predictable boys come fumbling to the rescue."

Boys. Plural. Dean was still alive, for now. Bobby allowed himself a slight sigh of relief at that. He just couldn't figure if that was the case why the demons hadn't dragged the boy along. Something was even less right here than it looked.

"If you've hurt one hair on that boy's head..."

"It's nothing that won't grow back," the smug bastard assured him with a sickly pleasant smile.

"You even touch him again and so help me, you'll be begging for hell once I'm through with you."

"Tough words for the old guy tied to the chair. Don't give yourself a stroke."

"You're one to be talking, gramps."

This dumber than a stump demon needed to take a look in the mirror. The man the demon was wearing had to have at least one, if not a couple, solid decades on Bobby.

"This is just a little costume. After we're through here I can pick any suit I want, but you'll still be stuck rotting in your same old meat."

"What're you trying to pull?"

"Sorry, my friend," the thing replied with a pat to his shoulder. "I'm not telling you anything because this is your lucky day. You've got a free pass here. Consider it a thank you for the charming company. That and I won't be around to clean up your corpse once it's all said and done."

-----

This area of Jersey might as well be on a different planet from where they had been last night. If not for the fact that he was losing his mind, Dean would have finally been able to breathe. Sam had let him drive once they'd left the stop and go rush hour traffic that had lolled him to sleep. Now they were sailing down relatively open roads. Too bad it was in a crappy excuse for a car.

The cramped city had given way to spacious lots and thick areas of trees ablaze with fall colors. That was all great, but the farther they drove the farther apart the houses were spaced and the more isolated things got. Now they were looking at a whole different kind of bad.

Dean slowed down closer to the speed limit when they started to close in on the address they were looking for. What they found was a one way private drive awaiting them. One secluded in and out and they couldn't even see the house from the road.

"Super," Dean grumbled to himself.

But it wasn't like they had a choice. He pulled the rust bucket of a car off the road to an inconspicuous area concealed by trees. No one would be looking for them in this vehicle, but it didn't exactly blend in to this ritzy neighborhood. They'd stayed in motels smaller than some of the houses they'd passed on the way out here.

He glanced to Sam before getting out and heading for the trunk. They loaded up then headed down the long drive on foot. Soon enough the house came into view and Dean let out an impressed whistle at the real estate.

"Damn. We've been fighting for good our entire lives and we get jack. These demons touch down less than a week ago and they get the freakin' Playboy mansion."

"You sure this is the place?"

"I'm sure it's the address they gave me. For whatever that's worth."

Usually one of them would take the front and the other would take the back, but this place was too big. Too easy to get lost and permanently separated. They would need to be watching each other's backs here.

Sam seemed to be looking for some sneaky way in, but there wasn't exactly a point. It wasn't like his brother could be under the delusion that they were going to get the drop on these guys.

"They already know we're coming," he reminded Sam.

"So what? You just want to walk in the front door?"

"I don't want to walk in at all, but they're probably watching the other doors closer. Once we're in we're demon bait no matter how we play it."

"Remind how this isn't a suicidal plan?"

"I didn't say it wasn't, but you wouldn't wait in the car."

"That's because I'm trying to keep you alive."

"It's a loss cause. Give it up already."

Not even wanting Sam to reply, Dean got ready to pick the lock on the front door, but the door's frame was already splintered. He raised a brow to Sam as he gave a test push at the door, which swung open without resistance. Someone had beat them here.

"Trap," Sam mouthed to Dean.

"We knew that before we got here," Dean shot back under his breath. "If you wanna go wait in the car...."

A ragged cry tore through the halls. Dean instantly locked eyes with Sam. He'd never heard Bobby scream, but a sick knot in his gut was sure that's what they'd just heard. For these demon's sake, he'd better be wrong.

Giving up any pretense of sneaking in, Dean sprinted across the opulent foyer, ignoring the echoing pounding of his boots against the hardwood floor. He headed in the direction of the scream with Sam on his heels. They flew up the hardwood staircase and heard the cry again before hitting the top steps. If he wasn't already on his way, he'd find a way into hell because there weren't enough ways to make these demons suffer on earth.

Sam being able to skip way more steps than should be humanely possible, beat him to the top. Once they hit level footing again Dean surged ahead and only slowed down once they traced the source of the sound. He was about to barge in when his brother's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"What's the plan, Dean?"

"You get Bobby out," he replied while he struggled to catch his breath.

"What are you going to do?"

"Hold them off." Sam gave him that 'no way in hell' look. Like he hadn't seen that coming. "If they wanted me dead I'd already be there. Grab Bobby and go. I'll try to be right behind you."

For once Dean was thankful for this damn truth curse. Without it he knew there was no way Sam would have believed a word he'd just said. The fact was he hadn't actually said much of anything because the operative word was 'try'. There was a fifty-fifty chance that he died here. Too dangerous in Sam's book, but damn good odds in Dean's.

His hand hovered just above the doorknob and he looked to Sam for confirmation. Sam reluctantly nodded an affirmative and stood just out of view from the doorway. Dean shoved open the door and didn't hesitate to rush into the room with a flask of holy water at the ready.

He splashed the water at the first body he saw, driving it back and readying for the next before he realized there was only one demon in the room. It should have registered as a good thing, but all it did was leave him wondering where the other three were. Analyzing the tactical situation went out the window when his eyes fell to Bobby.

The older man was leaning limply against the ropes that bound him, blood soaking into the chair he sat in. Dean's fingers tightened painfully around the flask. These demons were going down begging.

His eyes locked dangerously on the demon in front of him. "I wish I could send you back to hell screaming you sick bastard."

"If wishes were horses, Romeo."

"Maria."

"Maria has left the building. It's David Strieter now. You're going to need to remember that name."

"I ain't your damn secretary and I don't care who the hell you're wearing. You came after my family. Game's over, bitch."

Surging forward, he flung another sizzling gush of holy water that sent the demon hissing back. He glanced over his shoulder. While he didn't see anyone else coming yet, he saw that Sam had managed to haul Bobby to his feet. Bobby looked seriously out of it, but luckily for this demon, he was alive.

"Where are your little freak friends now?" Dean asked.

Some demons were smart. Those were the scary ones, but then there was the other kind. The ones that just liked to hear themselves talk. This one looked smug as hell so he was going off the vague hope that it was a talker, not that he was expecting his luck to kick in now.

"Around," the demon replied casually. "It only takes two to tango."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam and a disoriented Bobby moving through the doorway. Dean shrugged to the demon and backed towards his anxious brother. He'd give anything to be able to kill this son of bitch here and now, but he was going to have to settle for living to exorcize the demon another day.

"Yeah well, I'm a sucky dancer. You're just gonna have to find yourself a new partner."

"I'm sure you'll be able to pick up the steps."

The tone was so obscenely thick with confidence that it was enough to even momentarily stop Dean in his tracks. There was no time to figure out where the demon got off talking like that before the door slammed closed behind him.

"No!" Dean uselessly tried to force the door open, but it wouldn't budge. He slammed a frustrated fist against the barricade that separated him from Bobby and his brother. "Sam!"

"Dean!" his brother shouted back to him

He turned his back to the door to level his eyes with the black eyed thing that was smiling smugly at him. Trap it was then.

"I'm screwed!" he yelled back to Sam. It took a second before he realized what he had just shouted. "I mean...damn it!" 'Okay', 'fine' either would work but neither would come. He was so far from either of those things. "Just get Bobby out!"

"No! I'm not leaving you, Dean."

"I only got one," Dean yelled back.

It wasn't meant as a reassurance, but a warning. That meant there could be at least three hanging out in any corner of this behemoth of a house and Sam damn well knew it. Even his stubborn brother had to realize that Sam couldn't save him if he was dead.

"I'm coming back for you," Sam promised.

"Yeah, whatever. Just go!"

He didn't focus back on the demon until he was satisfied that he heard Sam and Bobby's heavy footsteps retreating.

"Well played," the demon commented.

Just what he needed, an ugly old demon cheerleader. He wanted so bad to smack that smirk right off of the thing's face. If it kept pushing he wasn't even going to care about the fact that it wouldn't do any good. At least it would make him feel better.

Trying to keep it together, Dean just sneered back at the bloodied demon. Bobby had obviously given the thing hell. Good for Bobby. Unfortunately for him, the demon didn't even look a little bothered by the seeping wounds. Actually the thing just looked pleased as punch.

All he wanted was to waste the demon, but the worst he could do was throw some punches and call it names. If he got out of this he was going to kick Sam's ass for not having knocked down that mysterious chick and stolen her knife. Then he was going to resurrect Samuel Colt and kick his ass for not having made more bullets.

As much fun as that all sounded, since he couldn't kill it and he needed Sam to exorcize it, he at least had to try to talk to this demon. Sam and him were just going to keep getting their asses handed to them unless they figured out what was actually going on here.

"Some place you got here," Dean commented with a nod to the over the top bedroom decor. "Totally suits a douchebag like you."

"It serves its purpose."

"Yeah, and what's that exactly?" he asked as he paced away from the demon, but stayed near the door. He was still trying to listen to make sure that Sam and Bobby hadn't hit trouble on the way out.

"They're safe," the demon assured him.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "If you messed Bobby up just for kicks..." He wasn't sure what convincing threat he could truthfully say so he left it at that. "What are you playing at?"

"Just playing you, Winchester. Playing you like a fiddle."

Dean's free hand curled into a fist. If this thing was trying to piss him off, it was working. It stepped closer, looming just a few inches from him. He stood his ground defiantly holding its gaze.

"You should have brought a bigger bottle or shown some restraint," the demon commented with a nod towards Dean's holy water flask. "That one's empty isn't it?"

"Yeah," Dean admitted without fully realizing it. "It's stone empty. I just didn't want you to know."

That's why he'd stopped throwing it around. So much for that. He shrugged and tossed the flask over his shoulder.

"You want to screw with me? Knock yourself out, but you shouldn't have touched Bobby because now I'm gonna find a way to tear you apart."

"Yes, I'm sure you will. Winchester's obedient attack dog."

"You just keep pushing," Dean goaded with a clenched jaw. "Why'd you take Bobby?" he asked with barely concealed rage.

"Bobby, Bobby...he's more fun than a barrel of monkeys," the demon laughed. "A hard nut to crack, but he bleeds lovely."

Every muscle in Dean's body was already cocked and the sickening phrase was more than enough to pull the trigger. His fist flew out and connected with a satisfying crack against the self-satisfied face in front of him.

The demon took the hit without bothering to throw up any defense, which somehow just pissed Dean off all the more. He lashed out with his foot, knocking the demon back into the wall.

Before he could raise his fist again the demon grabbed the lapels of his jacket. With a swift jerk it threw him around so their positions were switched. Dean grunted as his aching back smashed into the wall.

The demon leaned in to whisper in his ear. "You do have your daddy's temper."

Dean went rigid in the demon's hold. "You shut up about my dad."

"Oh, but I really think you'll want to hear this. Do you know what they do to hunters in hell?"

"Nothing I'm not gonna try to do to you right here and now if you don't shut your damn mouth," Dean spat back.

"Please, stop, you're scaring me," the demon mocked with a stinging pat to Dean's roughed up cheek.

Dean winced but kept his lethal glare solidly locked on the pitch black, soulless eyes. "You really don't want to let me go now," he warned.

"I'm sure it'll be hilarious when I do, but first, where were we...oh yes, the illustrious John Winchester. Hell just ate him up."

"Shows what you know. My dad got out and I guarantee he beat your ugly ass to the gate."

"Only because he was terrified out of his pretty, little proverbial head. Oh, but the fun we had with him when he was there..."

"You're lying. You never saw my dad in hell."

"Clearly you're the expert on truth. Apparently you can't function without lying. The true mark of a hero. Oh, no...that's not quite right is it? But we both know you're no hero, Dean. You're just a puppet. That's all you've ever been. It's all you're capable of being."

"Yeah, well you'd know wouldn't you?"

"Can't say that I would and about your daddy, maybe it's a lie. Or maybe, just maybe, it's the truth. Either way his screams echoed through the flames and he pleaded for mercy, just like you're going to beg." Dean's jaw tensed painfully. "That's right, I know you booked a flight yourself. Did you miss daddy that much?"

"Yes." Dean growled to himself. "I'm not supposed to be here and neither are you." If this demon kept pushing he'd just spill his entire life story. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"I did you a favor. Have a nice cry with Sammy last night? Did you tell him all about your deep, dark booboos?"

"Let me go, you crazy son of a bitch."

"Calm yourself, Winchester. All you had to do was ask."

Before he knew what was happening, the demon pulled him away from the wall and flung him across the room into the double door. Dean slammed against the ornately carved hardwood before crashing to the floor. He vaguely registered the demon motioning its hand to open the door behind him before casually stepping over him and walking out of the room.

No way that dick was getting away. Dean rolled to his feet, stumbling out into the hallway. Running on full autopilot, he reached behind his back and drew his gun. The demon was just standing there waiting for him. He looked both ways down the long halls before looking warily back at the demon.

"The only one who's scared of you Dean, is you. Rightfully so. The rest of us are laughing."

The demon took a step closer to him. Dean's shoulders were heaving with rage and his finger tensed on the pistol's trigger. A bullet wouldn't stop a demon, but sometimes it could slow one down. Right now he didn't even care about that. He just wanted to shut it up.

"Just like we laughed as they flayed your daddy to the bone and passed out the pieces for dessert. Mmm...delicious."

The demon staggered back as a bullet tore into its shoulder. But instead of backing down, it kept right on laughing. "By the way, thanks for sending him down our way. Now if you could just arrange for Sam...."

There weren't enough bullets left in the clip to satisfy him. There weren't enough bullets in the world. It took a long moment for Dean to realize that he had fired everything he had and that the body was bleeding out on the ground at his feet.

"Smile real pretty for the camera, Dean," it gasped up at him. "Live feed. Modern technology is a beautiful thing."

The gun hung loosely in Dean's hand as he followed the demon's eyes. It took him a moment to search out the small wall mounted security camera that was pointed down the hall directly at him. He didn't have time to process what was happening before the mansion's electricity was cut.