Sorry Lovelies! I have been trying to find time to sit down. Honestly, I usually don't take this long, but you all know what exams are like….*shudder*…

Anyway, let's get on with it!

YAHHHHHHH!

"Goodnight, Miss Judy. See you in the morning!" The small blonde waved back at the janitor.

"Night, Rick." Nurse Judy pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle the inevitable yawn. Once again, she checked her watch. It read half past two. She quickly stamped her time card and grabbed her coat from the break room. It had been a long night in the trauma ward. Gun shots, stab wounds, lacerations, amputations- you name it, she's seen it. Honestly, she wanted nothing more than to go home, take a hot steamy shower, and curl up next to Bongo, her oversized, over-playful Great Dane. Judy smiled, despite her weariness. Bongo was the sweetest little baby, always so friendly to everyone. But he was the worst guard dog ever, he only ever made friends. She laughed aloud at the thought, earning a questioning look from one of the night guards. She blushed and waved, stepping into the entrance way.

The automatic doors slid soundlessly apart, as Judy slipped into the parking lot. The sky was pitch black, and the only light came from the yellowed lampposts that stood lonely guard over the cars.

She reached into her sweater, keeping it clasped at the top with one hand against the frigid wind. She searched, diving her hand deeper into the depths of her pocket. "Dammit," she muttered under her breath. "Where are those damn things?" She sighed and slumped. It had just been a long day. She set her purse down on the hood of her car and fumbled through it, straining to make out the shape of her key ring in the shadows of the trees. Her fingers groped and scanned, until finally, she felt them connect with the cold steel of her fob. "Ah-ha!" She announced in victory, twirling the circle around her finger and snatching it up in her fist.

"Miss?" The voice behind her startled Judy so badly she dropped her precious keys and clutched a hand to her chest. She watched with despair as the ring bounced under the car.

"O-Oh," she stammered, laughing at her own nerves. "I'm sorry, its just-you just scared me, is all."

"Oh, I do apologize. That was not my intention." He flashed her an apologetic smile, but it sent child down her spine. Little red flags went off in her head, and all of her instincts were screaming that this guy was bad news. But, he as quite handsome, and he seemed sincere enough. 'It's just my nerves. It's been a long day,' Judy told herself.

"No, it's quite alright. I shouldn't have been so jumpy." Judy gave her own awkward smile and crouched to search for her keys. Her knees never made it to the pavement.

An impossibly powerful fist caught her in the larynx, sending her reeling backward, unable to breathe. Her throat burned and screamed. She could feel her windpipe popping with every strangled breath she took. It was nearly completely crushed. She tried to call out, but no mangled sound could escape her mouth. The shadowed man stood over her as tears welled in her eyes.

"I am quite sorry about this. You see, my brother is an incompetent dick." He reached a hand towards her.

Judy felt he onslaught of tears well in her eyes. Blood foamed and spurted out between her teeth from her hemorrhaging throat. She panicked, and thrashed, but his iron grip latched onto her left shoulder, pressing hard enough to draw blood through her layers of clothes.

Please! Her eyes begged. Please don't!

Luther sighed. He hated when things got messy. "Really, you must believe me. This isn't an everyday occurrence, alright? If anything, my dear, you should feel privileged. Not many hairless apes such as yourself have the honor of being my muse. Now then, shall we?"

The confusion clear in Judy's wide eyes was quickly replaced by raw terror as she watched the hand of her captor transform. His clenched fingers became razor sharp claws- massive hairy things. They extended as he transformed, plunging deep into her flesh. Her scream of agony came out a disgusting gurgle as crimson froth and drool poured from her hanging jaw. He pushed his hand in farther, watching with a cold pleasure and calm manner as Judy convulsed with pain and fear. Her free arm came up weakly to defend herself, merely brushing his chest with what he could only assume to be the last amount of her strength. It was extremely amusing. His head tilted, calculating. Luther found it fascinating how someone so…so insignificant could fight so desperately for such a pathetic life.

What was it that made them so important? So crucial? They were inferior, yet they seemed completely oblivious to how incredibly- Luther flexed his finger and watched her rib pop out of her mangled chest-fragile.

"Ooh," Luther tsked. "That must have hurt."

Judy gave one last gargle and spasmed, her whole body shaking. Then, she was still. The life left her eyes and Luther gave his first genuine smile in a long time.

It felt good to be back.

He felt the fatty tissues around his treasure and ripped them away with a clean swipe of his claws. He felt his hand close around the now still heart, and he replaced his previous ferocity with caution. He handled the organ with care, like a mother with a babe. Luther gave a quick tug and felt the ventricles and the veins rip apart, releasing the thumper from its red grave.

"Hello, beautiful," Luther studied the heart and gave it a quick kiss. He licked his lips, tasting the warm blood between his teeth. It had been too long.

"Now then, shall we?"

Luther grinned and plunged his mouth towards the soft sinew. It broke off like a chunk of gelatin, squishing and oozing between his teeth. The blood flowed down his chin and onto his clothes, but that didn't matter. He had a pair of scrubs in the trunk. Tonight, he could be messy.

He let the soft warm meat roll around in his mouth, savoring the metallic burn that lingered in his throat. Luther opened his mouth wide and pushed the heart with two hands between his teeth. He ate and chewed and groaned like a starving man. He sucked through the aorta like a straw and pulled at the stringy flesh with his tongue. He closed his eyes and savored it, groaning with pleasure.

Too soon, he could feel himself starting to change. His claws retracted, and his hair began to grow. The pain from the snapping and realignment of his bones was nothing compared to the pleasure of feeding, though. At least for that, Luther was grateful. His shoulder rotated, and his neck hitched from one side to the other. His nose shot backwards into this skull, becoming more petite and pointed. The Leg bones compressed themselves, shortening, and then lightening to replicate the bone structure of his victim. His skin shifted, swelling in certain places and tightening in others. By the time the grueling process was over, Luther was licking the last of the bloody skin of his fingers. He crawled off the ground, slightly off balance. It often times took several minutes to grow accustomed to a new body. It's a good thing he did this now, when he wouldn't-well, SHE wouldn't-have to go to work for another few hours.

The new and improved Luther stood tall, hair blowing in his face and hand wiping the blood from his mouth. He looked at the crumpled form on the ground, bloody and mauled. He glanced down at his own body, much shorter now, and not fitting into the men's pants and shirt he had worn previously.

Judy walked the few feet to where Judy lay, dead. She bent down and ran a hand through her hair, smoothing it. Judy closed her eyes and leaned in to the blood spattered forehead, planting a gentle kiss on the corpse's skin.

"You're welcome."

Judy stood, her face completely calm. She dug a hand into the baggy slacks and pulled out her expensive phone. She punched in the number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Larson, clean up time."

"L-Luther? That you?"

Luther/Judy sighed. "Temporarily you moron. Now get here within the next five minutes or this pretty little whore that I am will rip you limb from limb, do you understand me? We are behind schedule, Larson. And I am never behind schedule."

"Y-Yah, sure thing, Luther. I'm on my way. I'll be there as-"

Luther pressed the end button with disgust. Larson was such a blabbering fool; Luther prided himself on being able to refrain from carving his eyes out thus far. However, he remembered with a happy sigh, the night is young, and there will plenty of opportunities to end that mangy mutt.

Luther bent down and reached beneath the car to retrieve the precious keys. He dangled them up by his face and looked at the body before him. "Found them!" He laughed sickly. He quickly transferred his belongings and tools into Judy's-well, now his car, and without further ado, he pulled away. The Subaru cut onto the main drag without a sound and Luther drove in peace all the way back to Judy's apartment.

But he was still a bit peckish- his stomach wasn't quite full. Hmmm…He licked his lips, savoring the remainder of the blood.

Still he was having a bit of a craving. He thought back to what he knew of Judy, and a satisfied grin played on his lips.

Yes… a dog would do nicely.

"And-And so then," Dean wiped at his eyes, brushing the tears away. He can barely speak through his laughter. "Then, the asshole says," Dean doubles over in his chair, "He says: well, then what the fuckin' hell did ya ask me for?" Dean spits out the last line and clutches his side. Sam is doing no better. He begged Dean to stop, that laughing hurt too much, but really it just made it even funnier for the both of them. Sam groaned as his grin split him from ear to ear. It felt so good to just sit here with his brother and laugh and tell jokes. It was a rare moment, and they were both enjoying it.

The aftershocks of the joke still rumbled on. Every now and again, one boy would laugh a bit, or his shoulders would shake silently, but for the most part, they sat in a comfortable silence. It had been a good day, and they felt more relaxed then they had in a while. Dean had gotten an all clear from his doctor. The stitches on his legs and chest were healing nicely, and the frostbite was cleared. Sam had to stay for a few more days under observation, but after that, he could send them home with some heavy duty pain pills and sterile dressings. This was definitely good news for more than one reason.

The obvious one: Sam was getting better. He would be fine.

The not so obvious one: the less time they spent here, the more chance the boys would have of getting out before the hospital staff realized their insurance and credit cards were fake.

Ahh… good times.

Dean stretched and grunted, getting up from the cushioned hospital chair to rid himself of the cramps in his legs. He walked around the bed and feigned interest in some magazines and such. Sam was flicking through the channels looking for something slightly bearable. At this time of the night, the only things on was infomercials. Finally, Sam gave up hope in his channel surfing and succumbed to his exhaustion. He yawned and shot a glance at the red clock by his bed. It was nearly three in the morning. He had woken up about six hours ago but already it felt like he had been up for a week.

Another wide-mouthed yawn sounded through the room, despite Sam's best efforts to muffle it under his hand. Dean turned and looked at him accusingly.

"I told you to tell me when you got tired. I didn't want to keep you up, Sam."

"Dean," Sam rolled his eyes. "Stop being Momma-Bear. I am a grown man. I was having a good time just talking. When I'm tired, I'll let you know."

"Yah, bullshit. Get to bed. I'll get the doctor to dose you up so you sleep through the night, ok?" Dean started towards the door.

"Hey! Don't just leave me here!" Sam waved his arms and gestured in disgust to the horrific white sterility of it all. Dean couldn't help but smirk. Despite his little brother's macho routine, he honestly did hate hospitals.

"What are you gonna do, Sam? Drag yourself across the floor?" Dean chuckled.

"Hey, I resent that!" Sam sat up, mock indignation clear across his features.

"Oh you do, do you?"

"Yah, I do. I would never drag myself across the floor. They gave me a wheel chair, asshat."

Dean laughed and waved his hands. "Ooh, look out, here comes Hot Wheels!"

"Hey!" Sam laughed and threw a nearby tissue box in the direction of his brother. The cardboard hit Dean straight in the face, making Dean sputter. Little bits of white fluff from the extra soft papers clung to Dean's hair and jacket. Sam laughed so hard he had to clutch his aching side.

Dean picked the tufts from his clothes, muttering all the while about "pussy little brothers" and "the evils of lotion-infused tissues." He brushed the last bits from himself and shot a glare at Sam, who was red in the face.

"Bitch." Dean grumbled, turning quickly down the hall to hide the amusement on his face.

"Jerk!" Sam called after him, smile completely shameless. He chuckled to himself, reached across the nightstand and found the switch. He was undoubtedly tired, and when the light disappeared from the room, Sam found himself sinking fast.

He fell asleep with a smile still on his lips.

Morning came with a bang.

Literally.

Sam bolted from his sheets, heart pounding. The loud noise had completely caught him off guard.

"Dean?!" He yelled into the darkness of his room. "Dean!"

No reply.

He frantically scanned the room for a light. The red thrum of the alarm clock was directly on his left.

11:45 am

Sam's eyebrows furrowed. Nothing was making sense. His mouth felt like cotton and his head felt heavy. No doubt the meds he was on had worked their magic. He wasn't in pain, he was just extremely confused.

"Dean!" He called again. His thinking became less groggy as adrenaline coursed through his clouded mind. He didn't know what the sound had been, and his brother was gone.

Guns? Explosions?

Every possibilty pointed to one conclusion: Dean was in trouble.

"DEAN!" Sam's head swiveled frantically. "DEAN? DEAN? DEAN?!" After what couldn't have been more than five seconds but what seemed like an eternity, Sam threw back his covers with his good arm and ignored the burning from his hips. He had to get up and find Dean. Sam swung his leg across with a shamefully loud moan of pain and positioned himself on the edge of the bed. He took a few deep breaths and prepared to slide off when the sound of heavy footsteps rapidly approached his door and burst through the entrance.

"SAM? Sammy! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Dean dropped the two cups of coffee he had been holding and sprinted from the doorway to his brother's bed.

"What the fuck are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack? What the hell is wrong with you?!" Dean gingerly picked up his legs and placed them back under the covers, sliding Sam away from the rail. "I leave you alone for five goddamn minutes to take a piss and get a cup of Jo, and here you are screaming for me so loud the whole hospital can hear you, and by the time I get here, you're trying to fucking kill yourself."

Dean was trying to keep his tone mocking and light, but underneath, even a drugged Sam can hear the emotion and worry. Dean had been scared.

"Dean, I just-" Sam tried to swat his hand's away from tucking him in, but Dean was having none of it. He looked up at Sam with anger evident in his face.

"You were what, Sam? What? I was two hundred yards away when you start screaming bloody murder! Do you have any idea how scared I was? You calling out my name, and I'm not there? Do you have any idea how much it hurts when YOU NEED ME AND I'M NOT THERE?" Dean's eyes burned into Sam's, searching for a response.

Sam couldn't answer. He didn't know how. He just sat there, drugged and confused, with his jaw hanging open like an idiot. Dean, meanwhile, shook himself lightly, regaining his composure. His fear turned back into anger as he finished tucking Sam into the covers with a little more force than necessary.

"Yah, I thought not."

"Dean, I…I got scared." In ten seconds, Sam had regressed into the mindset of an eight-year-old. Dean couldn't help but feel a little bad for the kid. Sam didn't handle drugs too well. Dean sighed.

"Sam, what scared you? What could have possibly happened that would scare you? I was right down the hall." Dean was exasperated.

"I…I heard a loud bang, and I woke up, and you weren't here, and I thought…I thought…" Sam stopped talking and started swallowing rapidly, blinking his eyes and avoiding his brother's questioning gaze.

He was sniveling.

"Oh for the love of God…" Dean stood up and threw his hands up over his head. He couldn't handle PMS Sam on a regular day, never mind when he was tripping balls. Dean wiped a hand across his face. He would have to handle this delicately and sensitively.

Yah, sensitivity: not exactly his forte, I know.

Dean turned back to face his brother, who was now openly crying. Big fat alligator tears course down his bruised face.

"Sam-Jesus-oh, shit. Don't, oh my god, don't cry! What the hell happened?"

Sam stared up at him, puppy dog eyes engaged. "I woke up and I was scared and you weren't here and I thought you were dead cuz the bang sounded like an esploshun!" Sam sniffed. "AND THEN YOU YELLED AT ME!"

"I didn't yell at you." Dean muttered. "And Sam, you're not three. Say explosion like a grown man."

"Eck- Es- Epslud-expolusti-explustion-exspl-"

"Oh just forget it."

"See?" Sam slumped with a whine. "You're yelling at me again!"

"I never yelled at you!"

"Yuh-huh you did. I saw you do it, Mister Winchester, so don't you try to lie to me!" Sam hiccupped and tried to point accusingly at his brother, but he wasn't sure which one was the real one, so he just pointed at the one on the left.

"Samuel?" Dean raised one eyebrow at his obviously loony brother and crossed his arms.

"Yep?"

"I'm over here."

"Oh." Sam nodded. "Well, make sure you stay there this time."

"Sure thing."

"Damn straight it's a sure thing. I know what I'm talking about, you know. I know what I'm saying. And-and if you don't agree with me, then F-"

BAAAAAABBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!CRAAAAAAAASSSSSHHHHHH!

"HOLY SHIT!" Sam grabbed his covers and reached for his brother. Dean was surprised at the vise grip Sam could manage in his state.

"Sam? What is your problem?!" Dean practically had to slap him to get him to let go of his forearm.

"THE BANG, DEAN! THE BANG NOISE!" Sam looked completely terrified, beyond scared. His eyes were wide and his face was flushed. Dean probably should have comforted him, but he was too busy laughing.

"S-Sam…" Dean wiped his eyes. "Sammy, Its-its-oh hell, I'll show you." Dean laughed his way over to the window, pulling back the blinds. A dull silver light flooded in, and the previously muffled chorus of fat raindrops hitting the glass now echoed clearly within the room.

"Dean! The window's crying!"

"Holy shit, Sam." Dean laughed again. "It's RAINING, buddy."

Dean looked at Sam hoping he would catch on.

No such luck.

"Sam. It's a winter storm. The banging sound? It was the thunder." As if to prove his point, lightning flashed across the sky, followed by a loud rumble from deep within the heavens.

Sam simply stared first at the window, then back at his brother, then back at the window. Dean raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Sam got nothin'.

"Ok, well, I'll just let you figure it out on your own, then, alright?" Dean reached over the nightstand and grabbed their new box of tissues the nurse had given them last night. He handed a few to his brother for his sniffling nose and used the rest to sop up the steaming caffeine that was pooling on the tile.

Minutes went by without a sound from either, until finally, a bewildered Sam had the epiphany of the day.

"DEAN! IT'S A THUNDERSTORM!" Dean looked up and shook his head in an 'are-you-fucking-kidding-me' sort of way, but
the priceless look on his brother's face made it impossible for Dean to be annoyed. Sam looked like a unicorn had just handed him a million dollars.

"Yes. Sam. Yes it is."

"Yep." Sam snuggled deep into his pillow, obviously quite happy with himself. "I knew it."

"Sure you did. Sure you did. I'm real proud of you."

"I know…But you still yelled at me."

"For the love of God, Sam! I didn't yell at-"

"You're doing it right now!"

"Just shut the fuck up."

Silence.

"…You're ugly when you yell."

"You're just ugly."

"That's hurtful."

"That's the point."

"Yah? Psh. Well, I don't give an ass' rat what you think! You wanna know why? Cuz…cuz you are a butthead!"

Dean sighed. "Sam?"

"Yes, butthead?"

"Go to sleep."

"Oh. Ok."

"Goodnight, Sam."

"Nighty Night Deany."

"Sam?"

"Hm-mm?"

"It's Dean."

"Sure it is big brother. Sure it is."

Dean smiled at the now sleeping form of Sam. He got up off the floor and tossed the sopping wet tissues in the garbage can. He pulled the covers up gently, making sure every inch was covered so Sam didn't get cold. He walked back over to the window and closed the blinds to stop the obtrusive light from bugging Sam while he slept. Satisfied with his work, Dean settled onto the cot he had had wheeled in the room for him and pulled his boots off. He was tired as well, and a nap never hurt anyone, right? He reclined onto his own stiff pillow and pulled the warm blankets up to his shoulders. Hmmm...This bed sure is cozy. Dean's stomach was full, his bladder was empty, and his brother was safe by his side.

Needless to say, Dean Winchester was out like a light in a matter of minutes.

The petite blonde nurse watched through the glass door as the short-haired brother fell asleep. She savored the moment- the taste of victory sweet in her mouth (or, was that the leftover dog she'd had this morning?).

She smiled to herself. It had been too easy. Luther had made his way upstairs with just a few quick smiles, an ID flash here and there, and several "strange weather we're having, isn't it?" conversations. She had found their room in a matter of minutes. Now all she had to do was walk in. And she wasn't going to hesitate. Larson had decided to underestimate these boys, and we all saw what came of that. No, Luther was smart. He would heed Crowley's advice. He wasn't going to underestimate these Denim-wrapped nightmares.

Luther wasn't going to wait any longer.

The nurse grabbed the food tray off the cart and looked down each end of the hall. No one was coming her way, nor were they even paying attention. It would be a quick in-and-out job.

No struggle.

No mess.

Luther twisted the handle to the door and stepped inside, not making a single sound. The door closed behind the blonde with a barely audible click. Luther glanced worriedly at the two brothers, just in case.

They were both snoring softly.

Luther set the tray down on the table. Reaching into the deep pockets of her scrubs, "Judy" pulled out a long silver blade. She stalked over noiselessly, feet barely making a whisper on the tile. She raised the knife high above Dean, an evil grin flashing across her face before she heaved the knife downward.

There was a small gasp, a gurgle, and then death.

Please Review! You will make my exam week so much more bearable if only you review! I am sorry it took so long, but I had to study and all that. If you review, you get your own personal Luther Punching Bag! Because honestly, who likes a nurse-slaying dog eater?