Bryce waved a huge, black feather through the smoke rising from the cast iron bowl between his bare legs. Only a bone and some leaves were still discernible among the ash. He added a long, curly lock of black hair. Then, he smeared the cinders down one side of his face and the other. Finally, he puckered his lips and blew the remaining residue into the air.

The Impala was a great car, but a hell of an uncomfortable place to sleep. All Dean wanted in the world was to lay down next to Cassie, wrap his arms around her, listen to her talk about her boring ass day.

After the first outburst, Dean had resolved not to go back into that apartment. He couldn't bring himself to even face her until he could be sure it wouldn't happen again, even if it meant going to a fucking shrink, which is what he was starting to think was necessary.

Without giving away anything, he had gone so far as to call her mother and ask about past boyfriends. For obvious reasons, Mrs. Robinson had sounded concerned when he asked if there was any domestic abuse in Cassie's history. Her answer had been just what he'd expected. "No. No way. Cassie would never let any man treat her that way."

He'd asked a few more questions to try and discover whether there was a past lover who might hex her or a deceased love who might haunt her—following up on his suspicions from back then. He'd even whispered "Christo" to himself and felt like an idiot, because, of course, he wasn't possessed. He would fucking know if he was possessed.

If there was something paranormal going on, it left no traces, no echoes or fingerprints for him to follow. The only thing that seemed touched at all was Dean, himself. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was losing his fucking mind where Cassie was concerned.

Dean twisted and turned in the back seat and tried to pull the scratchy army blanket over himself in a way that would keep him warm and keep the light from the streetlamp out of his eyes. As soon as it was over his sock feet, it was off his face. When he yanked it back over his head, his feet were uncovered and frigging cold. Finally, he covered his feet and threw his jacketed arm over his eyeballs with a sigh.

His hard earned moment of peace was broken by a loud thump. Thinking a branch had fallen on his car, his eyes popped open. As he sat up, another thud was closely followed by another one on the roof. "What the fuck?"

Dean pulled a handgun from under the seat and wiped the condensation down the window to look directly into the huge, brown eyes of a deer. His heart lurched in his chest as he shouted and scuttled until his back was pressed against the middle of the seat. He panted loudly, composing himself. He was actually better prepared to deal with something evil. This was wildlife. "All right, Bambi."

Finally, he opened the driver's side door and yelled, waving his arms frantically, "Shoo. Get out of here. Scat."

The deer regarded him once before scampering off. Satisfied with his animal wrangling skills, Dean looked up and let his mouth fall open.

He was surrounded by raccoons, foxes, opossums and every other type of fucking wild animal he could imagine. There were even a few creatures that he couldn't identify. They were on, then, scrabbling around inside of his car: a wriggling mass of fur and claws clamoring over each other.

He kicked some kind of weasel thing that was scraping at his leg. He aimed his gun into the backseat. "Out. Out now, or else. I'm sorry, Baby." He squeezed the trigger and animal blood splattered on the upholstery and the windows.

He swore and turned to target the other animals as they ran away.

"That's right, you fuckers." He bellowed once more like a triumphant and half-crazed, heavily armed Neanderthal.

'Every new day carries its own legacy.' It was the word of encouragement of the day on Cassie's desktop calendar.

Invigorated, but running late, she poured her tea into a travel mug and took along a toasted bagel wrapped in a paper towel. Her phone rang while she was on her way to the door. She squeezed it between her ear and shoulder, grabbed her briefcase and flew out of the apartment. She opted to take the stairs rather than waiting for the elevator, which tended to be slow.

Bryce's voice sang in her ear, "Morning, Sunshine."

"Morning."

"What are you wearing?"

She looked down at her own pants suit and straightened her jacket. "The grey one."

"Good. You kill in that. Call me right after."

She hung up the phone and slipped it into the back pocket of the briefcase beside her meager breakfast. Out of the front door and halfway to her car, she was surprised to find Sam in workout gear, stretching. "Hey."

Dean had a naturally nice body: neither skinny nor bulky. Just right. Sam was totally built in a way Cassie hadn't noticed before. Now, she couldn't help but be aware, finding him in sweats and a simple grey T-shirt, instead of all the layers of clothes that he and his brother favored. She diverted her eyes, pretending to watch the traffic. "You coming or going?"

"Just got back." Sam lifted his left foot to his glutes. He would rather have not noticed the way Cassie was failing at not looking at him. It made him want to flex like some kind of brainless muscle head and he wasn't like that, usually. He just liked to keep fit: healthy body, happy body.

"You know, we have a gym… don't know if you, you know… I can show you when I get back." It was fully obvious that Sam put a lot of effort into looking the way he did.

"Oh, yeah. That'd be great." Since they had arrived in St. Louis, Sam had been suffering an acute case of cabin fever and various other forms of restlessness. He was grateful for any opportunity to work off some steam. "Oh, and I went past the library… they were having a sale… thought this might help start to shed some light on what we do." Sam picked up and handed her the book he had put on the ground to do his stretching.

Cassie ran her palm over the slightly tattered, black, leather-bound book. There was a silver pentagram embossed on the cover. She looked up at him, "Thank you, Sam. Any word from Dean?"

"Um, not yet." Now, he was lying for his brother. This was getting out of hand.

"Is this normal, for him?" Her brow was furrowed with worry.

Sam shook his head and gave the best answer he could without giving away too much. "Dean's not normal. You should know that."

She smiled and nodded. "Well, I'm ... right on time, so…"

"You'll knock 'em out."

She waved. "Thanks."

Sam watched her drive off, trying to ignore that sassy, little bounce to her step. Once he was sure she was gone, he strode a couple of blocks, straight to the Impala and knocked hard on the window.

Dean sat up with one eye barely open, unable to crack the other. He grimaced against the sunlight, but rolled down the window. "She gone?"

Sam was doing his best to contain his temper, but this was too much. His nostrils flared. "What are you doing? We're here for you. So you and Cassie can…" He threw his hand up, not even sure what he had expected his brother to do: certainly not camp out in the car and leave Sam alone with her.

"Is she gone or what, Sam?"

"Did you guys have a fight? This is not how you deal with that, man." Sam knew Dean had pretty much zero relationship experience, but hiding out was pitiful. And it was creating other problems.

Dean slammed the door to the car and started hauling his tired ass back towards Cassie's building. After firing off the gunshots, he'd driven off and found a Walmart parking lot where he could clean out his poor, blood splattered baby.

Sam stood his ground. "Look, I can't do this anymore."

"What?" Dean turned to glare at his bratty kid brother who was, once again, making everything about himself.

"I can't stay here. I'm leaving. Soon. Like tomorrow, maybe." What Sam thought, but didn't say was: I'm attracted to your girlfriend. Not a little bit. Like, a lot and it's not cool.

"All right." Dean scrubbed at the stubble on his face. He had never given up on a case in his life without a direct order from his dad. But this wasn't a case. It was … he had no business with Cassie anyway. Maybe this whole thing was just his own fucked up way of telling himself that.

'What about the animals? That couldn't be nothing.' He shoved the question down and repeated, "All right."

"All right, what?"

"All right. We're done here." Dean nodded, feeling more relieved the more he thought about leaving.

Cassie fucked with his head. It wasn't intentional, but being with her was too difficult. It clouded his judgment and made him do things he didn't mean to do. He needed to get away from her and Sam was giving him an out.

"No, Dean. That's not what I mean. I mean, I'll go, on my own. Maybe back west. We can meet when something comes up."

Dean shook his head. "You go, I go."

"Dean." Sam should have seen that reaction coming. His brother was not cut out for a relationship and it was probably for the best that they leave before things got out of hand. "All right. Tomorrow. But don't sleep in the car tonight. Say a proper goodbye."