Sleep never came easy for Caroline. Of course, the chains weren't helping.

"Your struggle only makes this moment sweeter, child." A deep, sinister voice said. It seemed to come from all around her, but all Carol could see was blackness past the chains. Several large fish-hooks pierced her flesh, pulling her arms and legs taught. Finally the owner of the chilling voice stepped into her view.

He wore a long black coat, made of a material that seemed to be leather. Strips of his chest were visible, and a vertical red line down each side appeared to be exposed muscle. His demonic appearance was horribly confirmed as she saw his face; skin as pale as death, with rows of nails protruding from nearly every angle of his scalp.

"What do you want with me?" Carol cried, blood seeping from the piercings in her skin.

The figure laughed, circling her bound form. "Want. We want so much, Caroline. But for the moment we want but one soul."

"Mine…"

"No. Not yet, though you will find your way to us in the end. Your blood is that of a toy-maker, child, and there are others like you," the demon continued, "fashioners of jewelry, makers of weapons, all of them tools that share existence with greater realms than Earth."

"So what!?"

The figure stopped before Carol, his black eyes devoid of emotion. "In the center of your country resides two gunsmiths; brothers. Runaway miscreants who have long left their family history to poke and prod where human eyes should dare not."

"I don't understand!"

The demon grabbed Carol's chin, his face inches from hers. "You will seek them out, bring them to us. One of them has fled our grasp, and we wish greatly for his return. Fail in this, and all of Hell will know your suffering!"

She screamed as the chains pulled unmercifully on her skin. As her body was torn she woke in her bed, drenched in a cold sweat. She grabbed her alarm clock, reading the face. '4:15 AM.' She set the clock back down, her hand shaking. With every blink she could see the demon's face.

'Seek them out, bring them to us!'

Caroline Merchant slipped from her bed, dressing quickly. She didn't know how long she had to find these brothers, but she had an idea where to start.

Sam looked up from his laptop as Dean entered the hotel. "Hey, I gotta go. Yeah, see you soon." He quickly hung up the phone, slipping it into his pocket.

"What, got a hot date?" Dean asked as he set lunch down on the table – fast food from some local grill and a bland looking salad.

"Funny, but no. Just a friend that needed some help."

Dean looked up suspiciously. "Just a friend? Sam, remember what happened last time?"

"Yeah, shapeshifter in St. Louis, I remember."

"Friends don't work out too well for hunters, Sammy," Dean said as he went to town on his burger, "they just complicate things."

"Well, speaking of friends, Bobby thinks he has a job for us." Sam pulled up several pages he had bookmarked online. "He got a visit yesterday from a frantic girl; a, uh, Caroline Merchant. She claimed that a demon attacked her in her dreams, and told her to find us."

Dean shrugged, his mouth half-full of burger. "So what? Every black-eyed bitch around has been itching to find out how I got topside."

It had been only a week since Dean had been resurrected from Hell by the angel Castiel. "Well, it gets better. Caroline gave a description of her demon. Get this: Tall, black leather, pale skin, and – the kicker – pins in his head."

Dean's brow furrowed as a distant look passed in his eyes for a second. "What, like Hellraiser?" He shook his head. "Someone's a fan of the 80's. She making it up, Sammy. I doubt Bobby's ever seen that flick."

"That's what I thought too, but then I did some digging. Apparently she's not the only person to claim encounters with these demons. Cases all throughout the 90's and early 2000's."

Dean shook his head, not impressed. "Could be some fan club, or some kid wanting to shock their parents."

Sam thought for a moment. "Tulpa?"

"Like that one we fought in Texas, only using movies instead of the internet? Maybe. But Sam, don't you think we've got bigger things to worry about; like, I don't know, the freaking Apocalypse?"

Sam leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, but we've got nothing. This Castiel guy hasn't told you anything else after the Witnesses. This demon's looking for us—I'd say that's our best shot at getting some information."

"What, like Ruby? Hell no, Sam, I won't work with a demon. Not again."

Sam gave a small scoff. "She tried to help us, Dean."

"And how well did that work out? Oh yeah, I went to Hell, Sam."

Sam shook his head a little. "Yeah, you're right. Look, I don't want to fight. But we should at least look into this, do Bobby a favor. You know how tight-knit Sioux Falls is. At the very least, we'll have one less demon to worry about."

"Yeah, and about a billion left to go." Dean tossed his burger wrapper aside, wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans. "Alright, let's go."

Sam closed his laptop, slipping it into his bag. "What, just like that?"

"Just like that." Dean smirked, throwing his leather jacket on. "We have such sights to show you, Sammy."

"Not funny."