It was near closing time at the local library; the old building was deserted but for two beings.

After returning from the restroom, a young man who looked no older than eighteen with reddish brown hair, a thin face covered in freckles and thick glasses that kept sliding down his nose, sat down with a sigh and resumed a hunched over position over one of the three opened books scattered about his desk.

The librarian lifted her head then noticing him, as if for the first time, her lips curved up. She then rose and quietly glided over to his location. "What's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" she breathed into his ear.

With a startled gasp, the man whipped his head around to see who unexpectedly addressed him. He pushed his glasses back into place before bloodshot eyes and his vision focused on a young woman with dark brown hair down her back - 'wasn't her hair just up before?' - and dressed in a non-descript cream colored blouse with several buttons undone and a black below the knee skirt. "Sorry?" he stammered.

"What's your name?" the librarian asked in a sultry voice, with a finger slowly twirling a lock of her hair.

"Uh…it's Rick."

The woman seductively blinked a couple of times and flashed a wide smile. "You look like you need a break, Rick…I can help."

"Well…uh…" Rick shook his head to break the trance he was finding himself in "…I have a report due…tomorrow."

Suddenly the entry door flew open with a resounding bang. The librarian coolly rotated her head to face the individual who stepped inside, glaring at the scene before him.

"Ian, what the hell do you want?" she snarled.

"Meg, we need to talk…again," he replied between clenched teeth then spun around and left.

"A man of few words," the Meg muttered as she looked down to the shaken college student. "Don't go anywhere," she commanded.

To keep away from the occasional passers-by, Ian had stopped several yards past the front corner of the library's yellow stucco exterior when Meg caught up to him. Back still turned, he said, "I thought I told you to stop toying with them. I let you off last time we met and for what? You said you'd take care of business."

"It's not my fault...I was sure they'd have Sam go with them...since he wasn't there I just had some innocent fun. No harm done. Give me a couple more days…I know what their next move is…Sam likes libraries, as a librarian I can get close."

"What is it about these people? Why do we have to be so careful?" Ian spun around to face her, eyebrows furrowed in barely self-contained rage. "WHY!?"

Meg took a step back. "Just give me a couple more days," she persisted. "I will get what Ruby needs."

Ian held a hand out and said, "only if you give me the receiver to the bug you planted. I am not going back to Azazel empty handed…I need something concrete to report."

Meg reached into her shirt pocket, took out the device and placed it in his hand. "Fine...don't need it now anyway."

Without another word, Ian walked to the farthest end of the building and vanished.

"Fuck!" Meg hurried to her car. In less than a minute, she popped open the trunk and reached around the dead body of her last possession. When her hand found the straps of the purse she wanted, she yanked it out then shouldered it while simultaneously slamming the trunk closed.

Meg then quietly re-entered the library, gently locking the door behind her.

The college student, having resumed his studying, did not see her come in. He never saw Meg take out a knife and goblet from her bag and approach him with her black eyes and a fierce expression. Before he could respond, his throat was slashed. Once again, Meg held this vessel to collect his blood as he slowly died, trembling and silently gasping.

Into the goblet she spoke pausing every so often. "...not yet...I understand and I'm sorry…but it's an emergency. Ian snapped...I know he's going to fuck everything up; his methods are brutal…thank you."

Meanwhile, Ian had travelled with demonic speed to a condemned restaurant, boarded up years ago, well beyond the glitz and buzz of crowds along the strip. Once inside, he turned on the one working lamp and simply sat himself down to wait.

It was not more than fifteen minutes before the main door was pushed open again and a man entered. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties with shoulder length black hair tied back in a bandana and arms covered in colorful tattoos. He was closely followed by three other men similarly styled, all sporting stern faces in varying degrees.

Ian looked placidly at each as they proceeded to make their way toward him. The black haired man, who called himself Jason, pulled out the chair directly across from Ian and asked, "may I?" Ian acknowledged him with a slight nod.

"Not that I mind being back in Vegas but what's this about?" Jason asked.

"Meg..."

One, known as Anthony, standing just beyond Jason's left shoulder, smirked. "Aw, shit...what did she do now?"

In the blink of an eye, Ian tilted his head to the right and Anthony was flung across the room, crashing into two tables and three chairs, his borrowed body only stopping once it hit the far wall then, stunned, slid to the floor.

"Nobody fucking speaks about Meg but me," Ian snarled at the prone form. With a contrite expression, Anthony rose up and brushed himself off.

Ian turned his eyes back to Jason. "I don't have the patience for her shit...I don't know if she'll ever change."

"Sorry but, I don't think I got the whole picture," Jason replied.

"None of us do...all I know is that there's this family that Azazel has..."

Jason visibly swallowed. "Azazel?! Are you sure we should get involved?"

"Azazel brought me in on this...a simple job, first given to Meg but she's taken it to a whole new level. Something that could take five minutes to get and she's now into day three...so here I am to oversee and I expect to be successful."

"What's the job? If it's so easy, why'd you call us?" another of the group meekly questioned.

"Orders are to grab this brat and make him jizz into a cup, without revealing demon involvement...that's all I'm told," Ian replied. His expression then became one of fierce rage. "But it's not that...not anymore. The way Meg acts around this kid? and how Azazel talks about him and his family? It's like they value them...it's just not right! And now all I want to do is to smash everything...do as much damage as possible starting with this kid."

Jason smiled evilly. "Well, it has been a while since we worked together. I miss those days."

"So I'm gonna do the job my way..." Ian glanced at each before him "...but something for everyone if you help me...keep this to look like a human thing and Azazel will never know."

They all nodded with smiles for the future then Ian slammed his fist on the table. "Get Sam Winchester! I don't care how..." he opened his hand which contained a small metal device and pushed it toward Jason "...and use this. It's a beacon to them and whatever they talk about in their car. Follow Sam, figure out how to get the little whelp alone and bring him directly to me here."

Suddenly four heads shot back to release black smoke from their mouths. As soon as Jason and the others launched back out into the world, Ian sneered. "I'll show Meg what it means to be a demon."

Two of the four bodies scattered around the floor started to squirm and moan with pain, their faces showing bewildered expressions.

Ian glanced down at them and said, "welcome to my world. Stay a while."

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During the car ride back to his house, Caleb had managed to update Sam, who had listened without saying a word, on the events he had missed. Passing through his front door, with Sam close at his heels, Caleb could not hold back a small sigh of relief, grateful to be home.

Sam, on the other hand, uttered a groan; the first sound he made for some time. Caleb looked back at him and grinned, deciding the fifteen year olds quietude was partly due to being uncomfortable in sweaty clothes.

Caleb nodded toward the stairs. "Don't worry, Dean and your dad should be back soon. Now go ahead…the bathroom's all yours if you want to take a shower."

Sam appreciated Caleb's perception but voiced an added sticking point. "I don't have any clean clothes…"

"Say no more…you'll find the washer and dryer just up the hall and I'll leave some of my clothes for when you come out."

"Thanks," Sam muttered then bound away taking two steps at a time. Ten minutes later, Sam was well into his shower.

Caleb sat at his kitchen table, alone with the lights kept dim and his mind was preoccupied with the hunt, primarily trying to grasp the realization that a witch was wreaking hell in his town. Eventually, he let the whirring sound of the washing machine hypnotize him while absently poking at the objects found inside both hex bags.

Caleb heard a creak past the living room and quickly looked up to see Sam as he stepped off the last stair and strode toward him. 'Ah, the awkward years…I really don't miss them,' Caleb thought as he struggled not to laugh; with hair still wet from the shower, Sam appeared childlike but his 'taller than most full grown men' height was more pronounced in the ill-fitting borrowed clothes; the sweatpants hardly reached above his ankles.

"Thanks again for the clothes," Sam said while seating himself at the opposite end of the table. His polite attempt did nothing to mask his distress at finding it was still just the two of them in the house.

In any case, Caleb appreciated how Sam tried to keep his troubled thoughts undercover. John was his friend and now that he was getting to know his sons Caleb felt he could be friends with them too. Wanting to see to the young man's needs was beyond any sort of obligation. "Not at all…are you hungry?"

Sam shook his head and stared off in the direction of the front door. "No, I'm okay, thanks."

"How about you turn in then? I heard John wants you boys up early to run or train or some shit like that."

"No, I'll wait."

What is it you do for training, anyway?"

"Well…uh, just some sparring mostly, and tracking, and other stuff." Sam's eyes didn't leave the door during his half-hearted reply.

"It's obviously paying off…John told me what happened at the Kansas City rest stop."

Sam glared at Caleb and said, "yeah, to Dad and Dean…to them it's all wonderful."

"And to you?"

In a strained whisper, Sam replied, "if it's alright with you, I don't want to talk about it."

"Fair enough." Caleb got up and strode toward the refrigerator. "I know you don't know me very well."

Sam suddenly felt bad for someone who has been nothing but kind to him and was a good friend of his father's. On closer scrutiny, Sam determined Caleb looked lonely, the realization he did live alone just now hitting him. With one corner of his mouth twitched up, he said, "I could use that beer."

Caleb automatically whirled about to face Sam. "Wait, I thought you didn't drink beer…you're still just a kid"

"You keep saying that…remember when you thought I was Dean at first?"

"Remember when I said I was just kidding? And besides, he's still just a kid too." Caleb gave Sam a long look and sighed in resignation. "Well alright. I started at thirteen and look at me..." he stood in the middle of the room arms spread out "...I'm the picture of health."

Sam chuckled while Caleb, whose back was now turned, bent into the refrigerator. "Thirteen? I had my first beer when I was nine," Sam said. "I don't tell Dean everything."

"Why not?"

"Because he'll tell Dad."

"Smart ass," Caleb grumbled. He plunked one of the brown bottles in front of Sam and sat, snapping the lid of his own. "You know, I can tell that sometimes you wish you were the big brother."

Sam frowned and twisted off the cap with more force than necessary. "You don't know me that well," he muttered before taking a couple of swallows then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Caleb took a sip himself then said, "I can tell you're worried about him…he's the same way about you, could see that earlier. You should have seen his face when you took off running."

Sam shrugged, raised his beer once again. "I want Dean to stop thinking of me as a kid."

"Just give it time Sam, give it a few more years."

Sam laughed without mirth. "Yeah, well...it may take more than a few years. I guess it's 'cause we're all each other's got. Dad made sure of that. Dad has done so much to set us apart and it feels like every time we come to a new town, I am an alien on another planet...or like I am just waking up after a hundred years and the world has gone on fine without us."

"Do you always get so melancholy when you drink?"

"I don't know..." Sam lifted his bottle up and swallowed once again "...actually, I feel good…we are dealing with a witch..."

"How is that good?"

"...because I was right."

"You know, John said he was hoping you were."

"Really? He wouldn't talk about it with me," Sam said, eyes turned down but not before Caleb caught them flash with anger.

"I'm sure he has his reasons." In an attempt to lighten the mood, Caleb added, "now we have to find the damn creature. God, I'm with Dean...I really hate witches."

Sam was silent for a moment, consuming more of his beer, then asked, "Caleb, have you ever been to college?"

"Where'd that come from?"

Sam merely shrugged.

"That's a story for another time. Suffice it to say, I got a hands on education in security and here I am."

"Do you think sometime you could teach me how to bypass security alarms?"

"Well, of course, once the hunt is over and if you guys stay on for a while. They're all pretty much the same." Caleb took another swig of his beer then added, "I can also show you what I have for guns…your dad mentioned he was interested in getting a new one...all the good choices are down in the basement."

"You have a basement here? I thought houses in this part of the country didn't have basements."

"It's true in a lot of cases, however there are some homes that are customized."

Sam took another drink, slapped down his nearly empty bottle and sighed. "I'd rather have a dog...always wanted a dog...wish I could have seen what kind that family had."

Caleb's eyebrows shot up. "Are you drunk?"

"No. I don't know why I just said that…maybe I am just a little buzzed."

"I thought you said you drank beer before."

"Well, yes and no. I said 'I had my first beer when I was nine'."

"…and?"

"One sip and I spat it all out. Never wanted it since until recently but this is the first time I've been with someone other than Dad and Dean for a long time."

"I'm cutting you off right now," Caleb said as he reached across the table and grabbed Sam's bottle.

Suddenly the washer buzzed and Sam got up, disappeared down the hall to transfer the wet clothes into the dryer. In that space of time the deep rumble of the Impala's approached coupled with headlights appearing through the window. Caleb got up and walked over to open front door but not before it was being pounded on by Dean who wanted in before the sound of the car's engine cut. Caleb let out a sigh when Dean's voice, muffled by the barrier, shouted, "you had better be in there Sammy or I'm gonna kick your ass!"

Caleb hurried to close the distance, threw open the door startling Dean with his arm up, hand clenched ready for another round of banging.

"Dean!" Sam hissed, having rushed into the living room upon hearing the commotion. "What the hell? Do you want to wake the neighbors?"

Dean focused on Sam, covertly looking him up and down, then with a sheepish grin turned to Caleb and said, "sorry."

John had since approached and they both pushed past Caleb who then locked the door behind them. "All went well, I see," John stated after he did his own assessment of his younger son. Caleb looked up to find himself the subject of John and Dean's attention.

From behind Dean and John, Sam's expression soured which did not escape the fellow hunter's attention. Caleb smiled easily, "of course. No problems to report."

"Dad, I found a hex bag in…" Sam began.

"I am sure Caleb can fill me in." John interrupted then glanced at his watch. "It's twenty-one hundred…we'll talk later…you boys get cleaned up and go to bed."

"Yes sir," Dean said.

"Don't you want to see it?" Sam cried.

"I don't need to right now."

"Come on, Sam," Dean said and grabbed his brother by the wrist to get him to go with him up the stairs.

Sam pulled back. "Wait! Can't you at least tell me what you found out at that house?"

John glared at Sam through narrowed eyes. "There's to be no discussion now. You boys are to turn in, start fresh start in the morning," he snapped. John trembled with emotion as he watched his sons march up the stairs - one disappearing into the bedroom, the other into the bathroom.

He turned to Caleb and said, "we have a lot to talk about."

Caleb had witnessed the entire exchange and squeezed John's shoulder in sympathy. "But first you look like you could use a drink…I know just the place."

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Lying on his bed with arms across his chest, staring at the ceiling, Sam heard the front door slam then Caleb's car start and drive away. A minute later, Dean came in drying his still damp face with a towel.

Sam turned his head, making eye contact with Dean. "So how was your day?" they asked in unison. The brothers both shared a quick smile – talking at the same time never stopped being amusing - as Dean made his way to his bed.

"You first," said Dean. With his back turned to Sam as he rummaged through his duffel bag, he added, "must get out of these clothes."

"I found a hex bag in the victim's bed, just like the one Caleb found."

"Well Sammy, I must say, looks like you pulled it off without me…just like I said you could."

"Ha ha…very funny. Getting in to the house was no problem…didn't even have to pick the lock, back door was open."

Dean turned to face Sam full on. "That's the way that woman's house was for us too. Huh."

Sam raised himself up on his elbows. "You think that's something?"

"I dunno."

"Dean, what did you find?"

"Besides a dead woman?"

"What!" Sam shot up and sat on the edge of his bed while Dean lowered himself on to his. "Do you think she could be the witch?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, expression perplexed.

"Caleb told me the daughter said her dad recently met this woman, if it's the same one."

"That is something we have to find out; we found a picture she had of herself."

"That's all?" Sam held out his hand. "Can I see it?"

Dean shook his head. "Dad kept it...looked to be from the early 1900s...not exactly a smoking gun but a good piece of evidence. It was worth the sacrifice I made to get it."

Sam tried not to laugh. "What?"

"At our interview, the vic's daughter...ooh she was hot...she had this red hair..."

"Dean!"

Dean cleared his throat. "Let's just say she wouldn't give us any information until she had her way with me first."

"That's not what Caleb said."

"Well, he wasn't there exactly."

"Right…Dad let you sleep with this woman for a piece of valuable information."

Dean sighed, "sometimes you gotta take one for the team."

"Bullshit."

Dean's smile widened. "You're right…I was just messin' with ya…but she did want me. You should've seen Dad...he was all angry and shit, made us leave without any useful info..."

"I feel your pain…God forbid Dad should stand between you and another conquest," Sam said sarcastically.

Dean sobered up. "I think it would have been the other way around" then he shrugged, woman forgotten "well anyway, fortunately this other chick that was there called us with it. Dad and I went to the woman's house and found her lying dead on the kitchen floor…likely murdered hours ago. We searched the place but came up empty except for that picture."

"Wait, you really didn't find anything else?"

"We looked everywhere."

Sam stood up. "I want to go and check out the house."

"No," Dean said as he stood up as well and turned back to resume searching for clean clothes in his duffel.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, doesn't it bother you that dad uses us? We're supposed to participate in hunts but then 'be in bed by nine'?"

"Shut up Sam. You think just 'coz you were able to break into a house and find a hex bag you're ready for anything?"

"You think I don't know what I'm doing."

Dean whirled around. "Whoa, whoa, whoa…I never said that. You know what you're problem is? You take everything too personally. You don't laugh…"

"I laugh."

"…enough…you need more laughter in your life, the best cure for stress."

"So you've said before…"

"And I'll keep saying it 'til the message is fully planted in that freaky head of yours."

Sam circled around his bed and started for the door.

Dean took a step forward. "Where are you going?"

"I did our laundry, it should be dry now. I am getting some clothes, I'm gonna get dressed and go to that house before someone finds the body."

"I told you...Dad already checked everywhere and didn't find anything."

"I heard what you said. You said he didn't find anything, you didn't say there was nothing there…I'm going myself, with or without you."

"You're just mad coz dad ditched us again."

"You're right, I am...but I also want to check for something."

"What is it?"

"I'm not saying until I find out for myself."

Dean took another step forward. "I said 'no'."

"I don't take orders from you Dean and I don't need your approval...I'm going, with or without you."

"Yeah, where will you go genius? You don't know the address."

"Caleb told me." Sam said as he started to walk through the bedroom door.

Dean threw up his hands. "Fine! I'll go with you! Goddammit...Dad is gonna kill me."

Sam whirled around, his face expressing relief. "C'mon," Sam scoffed. "Dad hardly ever yells at you...I'll make sure I take all the blame."

"Let me get changed first...and I can't think on an empty stomach...we're gonna stop for some burgers on the way...bacon cheese with extra onions."

Sam shook his head in resignation.

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When Caleb slowed to make the final turn into the parking lot, John was pulled out of his all consuming thoughts and focused for the first time on his surroundings. A modern looking structure stood before them that was overly lit up in neon signs and surrounded by at least fifty cars. Music filtered its way to their ears.

John turned to look at Caleb, frowning. "What is this place?"

"A place where you can forget your problems for a while.

John turned to Caleb. "I can see I won't be able to talk without yelling, let alone think."

"That's the idea, at least for a little while. It's called therapy…come on, let's go."

"Wait, Caleb."

"What is it?" Caleb asked, his expression becoming serious.

"I found a body at that house me and Dean searched and I am trying not to lose it here..." John looked directly into Caleb's eyes "...but as of now, my boys are off this case."

"Okay...tell me what's going on."

"I have to ask you…do you remember I told you were hunting a kitsune and the monster was found dead in her house, stabbed and I asked you if you knew of any other hunters in Lincoln?"

Caleb tilted his head, thinking back. "Yeah, and I said I didn't."

"Is there anyone else you spoke to about the strange deaths here?"

"No, just you. What's all this about? Is that what you think is happening here?"

"Honestly? I don't know." John paused for a moment, faced forward and continued in a subdued voice, "have you ever sat alone in your hotel, in the dark, late at night, when the bathroom door unexpectedly moves wider? That's the feeling I am having now…there's something going on here, something sinister beyond what we're hunting."

"I don't know what to say...maybe something will make sense in the morning." Caleb nodded his head toward the building. "Let's just go in for a bit."

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I don't think I should just now."

"It won't be too long...just enough to unwind, get something to eat before going back."

"Fine," grumbled John as he reached for the door, got out and walked alongside Caleb. "Then we go shopping…we need to get some real food, no offense. My boys have eaten crap these last few days."

"No offense taken. You know I prefer honesty but I thought your boys were gonna leave."

John reached up and squeezed Caleb's shoulder with the spirit of levity. "They are, we'll eat a good breakfast then the rest will go to you and me."