David Matthews, the Marion County Sheriff, was a short, wiry man that gave the impression of compact strength. He was watching Dean with a jaundiced eye as he introduced himself and Sam as FBI agents looking into the four men who'd gone missing.

"I don't remember calling in the feds," he said, hostility radiating off him. Sam schooled his features into a look of stern sympathy.

"No, my partner and I were called in because of similarities to a cold case of ours." He felt Dean twitch beside him.

"A cold case?" Matthews said disbelievingly. "Where?"

"Yeah. Two men went missing in Electron, Washington. They were friends and had been spotted drinking together in their local bar before they disappeared." Matthews frowned at him in disbelief.

"When was this? I don't remember hearing about it." Sam gave him an apologetic smile.

"This was in 1972. Before I was born." Matthews snorted and unbent a little.

"Me too. OK. So did they ever find them?" Sam shook his head.

"No. They even dredged the rivers and lakes nearby."

"So how did a case older than you end up on your desk?" Matthews challenged, but he was not as unfriendly as before.

"It standard procedure," Dean explained. "The original investigating agents retired and their cold cases were passed to us." Matthews nodded.

"Well, there's not much to tell you. Miles Gage, Jared Pickle, Nick Murphy and Johnny Cooke grew up together here. They had a regular Friday night meetup, beer and pool. I picked Nick up a couple times for DUI. Miles had a conviction for marijuana possession from his college days. Jared and Johnny were clean. Just normal guys, you know."

"Any of them married?" Sam asked.

"Just Jared. Miles is divorced. Johnny never married but he's got a kid in Portland, so there must have been a girl at one time. Nick was never much of a one for the ladies, you know." Sam nodded and made a couple notes in his notebook.

"Any CCTV?" Dean asked. Matthews shook his head.

"Brooks is a small town. Tiny. Nothing ever happens there. All we got was a statement from the barman, stating that they showed up at 9:30 and they all left around 11pm. And that's the last anyone saw of them." A line appeared between Sam's eyebrows.

"Wasn't there another witness? A nun?" he asked and the sheriff's face grew scornful.

"Yeah. Two actually. Sister Angelica is the nun," Matthews told him. "And Theresa Miller saw something too, but she's nuts," he scoffed.

"Still, we'd like to talk to them both if we can." The sheriff shrugged.

"You're wasting your time. But knock yourselves out. Sister Angelica's staying at her brother's house in town. Peter's in Peru, doing missionary work and she's living there until he gets back. Theresa's normally hanging out around the Catholic church on Portland Road." He turned back to the bar where the men had disappeared and gestured around at the surrounding businesses, mostly second-hand car dealerships. "This is a busy road. By Brooks standards, anyway. But nobody saw a thing, other than Sister Angelica and crazy Theresa. It's funny." Sam exchanged a look with Dean.

"Thanks for your time, Sheriff." Dean said.

The church Matthews had mentioned was not far and almost immediately Sam spotted a hunched figure leaning on the roadside sign. He nudged Dean, who swung the Impala into the parking lot and jumped out.

"Theresa Miller?" Sam called out. The figure looked up. She was about Sam's age, although it was a little hard to tell because her hair was a wild tangle and her clothes were ill-fitting and ragged.

"Theresa's not here today," the woman said. Her eyes were different colors, Sam noticed. One was light brown and seemed normal, the other was pale blue and the pupil was so wide only a sliver of iris remained.

"OK," Sam replied gently. "Who are you?"

"My name is Holda," she told him defiantly, as though he might contradict her.

"OK. Do you know where we might find Theresa?"

"I told you, she's not here," Holda insisted. She tugged at her cardigan in a rhythmic fashion, and it seemed to calm her.

"Yeah, I got that," Sam said. "Do you know where she is?"

"Elsewhere." Holda peered at them both. "You're here about the men who disappeared?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "You know anything about that?"

"They're gone to the Hunt," she declared, rocking back and forth.

"The hunt?"

"The Wild Hunt. They asked, and Nuada answered."

"I don't understand," Sam confessed. "What do you mean, they asked. Asked for what?"

"What do such men always want?" Holda snarled. "Be careful what you ask for, isn't that what they say? Nobody ever listens." Sam rolled his eyes. They weren't going to get very far like this.

"Look, all we want to do is find them and return them to their families," he said patiently.

"Should have thought of that before they went messing with things they didn't understand," Holda snapped. "Too late now. Too late, too late."

"Theresa!" A voice called from the church and both Winchesters looked up to see a young man in a clerical collar jogging across the grass towards them.

"Theresa's not here," Holda said.

"I see," the priest said sadly. "Gentlemen, I'm Father Adams. Theresa here is a bit… confused. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Dean pulled out his FBI badge and flashed it quickly at the startled priest and Sam followed suit.

"The FBI?" He squeaked and looked nervous.

"Yeah. We're here about the disappearance of-"

"Ah, the men who disappeared last week," Father Adams said. He still looked uncomfortable and Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

"Did you know any of the missing men?" Dean asked aggressively, having picked up on the priest's demeanor.

"N-No," Father Adams stuttered. "Well, not really. I knew Nicholas a little. But none of the others." Sam raised an eyebrow at him and the man began to shake. Holda, or Theresa, glared at him.

"Leave him alone," she growled. "Father Adams is a nice man." Dean shifted his stance and the priest gave him an alarmed look.

"Four men are missing. Nobody saw anything, except some nun and Theresa…"

"And she's crazy. I know. But I swear, I only knew Nicholas and I didn't seen any of them the night they disappeared." Adams insisted. "Sister Angelica is around somewhere, but I couldn't say where." He turned away and the Winchesters watched Father Adams gently herd Holda or Theresa or whatever her name was into the church.

"He seemed jumpy," Dean observed quietly.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "You think he knows something?"

"Maybe," Dean said thoughtfully. "But it's just a feeling. Let's go talk to Jared Pickle's wife." Sam followed his brother back to the car and was startled by the buzz of his cell. He pulled it out and squinted at it, opening the newly delivered text message.

I'll meet you at your motel tonight. A.

He climbed into the car. "I just got a text. I think it's from Astrid." He showed the message to Dean, who read it and nodded.

"OK. So where do we find Mrs Pickle?" Sam flicked through his notes.

"Uh, she works at a golf club in Salem. You want to drive down and talk to her now, or wait until she comes home?" Dean thought about it for a moment.

"Is there anyone else here worth talking to?" He asked. Sam flicked through his notes again.

"Miles Gage's ex-wife moved to New York, so that's a bust. Hey, Nick Murphy's brother works at the tire and lube place about a half mile from here. You wanna check that out and we'll wait for Jacinta Pickle to get home from work?" Dean nodded and started the engine.

The man changing a tire on a muddy Jeep Cherokee looked exactly like the Nick Murphy mugshot the sheriff had given him. Sam exchanged a look with Dean. The man stood and wiped his hand on a rag and came walking over.

"You the feds?" He asked without preamble. Sam flashed his badge.

"Special Agent Shuman. This is my partner, Special Agent Homme." The man nodded and stuck out his hand.

"John Murphy, Nick's brother," he offered. Sam narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, identical twins."

"OK. What can you tell us about Nick?" Sam asked.

"What do you want to know?" John asked. "I mean, we look identical but we're really different personality wise."

"Such as?" Dean prompted.

"Well, I'm not much of a one for socializing. Nick's more of a party animal." At Sam's raised eyebrow he laughed. "Not in Brooks. This is a pretty quiet town. He goes up to Portland, likes the scene up there."

"The scene?" Sam pressed, a thought occurring to him.

"Nick's gay," John said easily. "It's not easy, in a small town like this. So, he prefers the city if he's looking to score."

"Has his orientation ever caused any problems here?" Sam asked cautiously, not wanting to offend the man.

"Nah. But Brooks is so tiny, everyone knows everyone else's business. And as far as I know, there aren't that many other gay men here. Not much of a pond to fish in, if you see what I mean." There was a slightly furtive look in John's eyes.

"Was Nick seeing anyone? Not just a casual hookup, I mean." Sam watched a flicker of something pass across John's face.

"No," he said, but he was tense and his voice was a little strained.

"Are you sure about that?" Dean asked, obviously picking up on the same tension Sam had noticed. John's face hardened.

"If he was, he never mentioned it to me," he insisted. "Now, is there anything else I can help you with."

"The guys he was drinking with," Sam said smoothly. "Friends from high school?" John nodded.

"Elementary school, more like."

"And none of them had a problem with Nick?" John shook his head vehemently.

"No. No way. Those four have been solid friends forever. When Nick came out to them in senior year, Miles just laughed and told him they already knew and didn't care." John smiled to himself. "Nick was so happy that night, he'd been terrified of telling them after how upset Mom and Dad were. Of course they didn't disown him or anything like that, but Dad's a traditional guy you know. Mom's come around since then. Especially since Father Adams took over from old Father Wall when he passed. Wall was a traditional Catholic, but this Adams guy is more in the mold of the current pope if you know what I mean." Sam nodded and made a show of writing something in his notes.

So, you and Nick still attend the church?" Dean asked casually. John laughed.

"Me, not so much. But yeah, Nick's a regular now." Dean raised his eyebrows and John glared at him.

"Not like that. I just mean… Hell. He's a priest. They're supposed to be celibate."

"It being forbidden doesn't mean he couldn't feel an attraction," Sam pointed out, trying to ignore the way Dean jerked at his words. John's mouth twitched.

"Maybe. But I'd swear that nothing was going on." He broke off shaking his head. Sam thought he knew how he felt.

"I think we'd better have another word with the priest," Dean said roughly. Sam scratched at his chin and nodded.

"Yeah," he agreed heavily. "I think you're right."

The church was cool and quiet. There was no sign of Father Adams or any parishioners. Sam eyed the altar contemplatively. Dean nodded at the confessional and elbowed Sam in the ribs.

"What?"

"Go on, dude. I'll keep an eye open for the nun." Sam rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going into the confessional, Dean," he said firmly. Dean shrugged.

"Fine, I'll do it. You stay here." He ambled off towards the booth but there was a tightness across his shoulders. Sam bit his lip. Maybe he should have just done what his brother wanted.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," Dean said when the shutter opened. He sighed. What else was he supposed to say? There was an expectant silence. "Uh, it's been uh, a really long time since my last confession." He peered at the shadowy figure on the other side of the screen but couldn't make out any features. Still the priest said nothing.

"So, uh. This is kind of awkward. I uh, I've been feeling these strange uh, inappropriate yeah, that's the word, uh feelings about a friend of mine." He coughed uncomfortably. What the Hell was he doing? Why hadn't he just made up some bullshit? "I… I mean, he… Well. Yeah." He continued incoherently. This was a terrible idea.

"Why do you say the feelings are inappropriate?" Adams voice came softly through the screen.

"Well, uh. First of all, he's uh a he," Dean muttered. "I'm not like homophobic or nothing. But I'm not gay either. And then, he's like my best friend. We've been through everything together. A lot of bad stuff. And you know, we've not always had each other's backs when we should have. But, it's… him. You know. We always forgive each other. Our friendship is stronger than anything that's been thrown at it over the years. So I shouldn't fu- uh mess things up with stupid feelings that he doesn't want and I don't want either.", Dean's throat was threatening to close on him. "And he's an angel, so there's that," he said in a rush. There was silence from Father Adams. "Well, uh. Good talk. Confession. Whatever."

"Wait." Father Adams' voice was low and Dean had to struggle to hear him. "You say your friend is an angel. I assume you're talking metaphorically." Dean didn't bother to correct the assumption. "So your friend is very devout and you think he will reject you if you make your feelings known to him."

"Yeah. I guess," Dean sighed.

"What if you're wrong?" Adams asked, gently. Dean started at the thought.

"What? I'm not wrong," he denied emphatically. Fuck, he was in over his head. What the Hell had possessed him to start talking like this now?

"Just speaking hypothetically, what if you told your friend about these… feelings… and he told you that he felt the same way?" God, it was hard to breathe in here, Dean thought, frantically tugging at his collar.

"I uh. Well. No. I can't even start thinking like that," he said urgently. "Look, I know you're trying to help but I can't. I can't do this. I'm sorry." He lurched to his feet. This had been a seriously terrible idea.

"Please, son. Just hear me out," Adams insisted. Dean slumped back down onto the bench.

"If, and I'm not saying this would ever happen, if I told C- uh, him, and he didn't like run away screaming. I uh… I dunno. Aren't you supposed to tell me it's a sin and give me a bunch of prayers and stuff? Not encourage me to tell C- uh my friend that I've been secretly… feeling things?"

"I-" Father Adams made a strange hiccuping sound. "I know how you feel." Dean's head swam with the surreal turn this confession was taking. "I've been where you are now."

"OK," Dean said slowly. "What happened?"

"I told N- him how I was feeling, and to my horror he said he felt the same way."

"Horror," Dean repeated stupidly.

"I'm a priest! I was hoping he'd be disgusted and stop coming to Mass. And then I wouldn't be tempted any more. But he… Oh God!" There was a rustling sound and then footsteps. Dean dived out of the confessional to see the back of Father Adams running out of the door of the church. He looked around, Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"Goddammit!" He dashed after Father Adams.

Sam had gotten bored of sitting around the church and had headed outside, vaguely hoping he might run into Theresa again. But she wasn't there and so he was left to lean against a wall and think. Dean had been in that confessional a really long time, and Sam hoped he might be working through some real issues. And pigs might sprout wings and fly away, of course. He was startled by the church door banging open and Father Adams fleeing out of the church as though Hellhounds were on his tail. He stepped into the priest's path and the smaller man, head down and not looking where he was going, collided with him with a grunt. Sam gripped his shoulders.

"Father Adams? Are you all right?" The priest twisted in his grasp.

"Yes, I'm fine. Let me go." Sam spotted his brother tumbling out of the church.

"Did Dean upset you?" Sam asked. Adams looked up guiltily into Sam's eyes.

"No, it's not his fault. Please let me go."

"No way," Dean said firmly. "Not until you tell us what you know about Nick Murphy's disappearance."

"I don't know anything!" Adams howled. "Nick and I were supposed to meet at his apartment at 11pm." Sam exchanged a look with Dean. "But he wasn't there. The neighbor told me he'd gone out with his friends about an hour before I got there. I thought he'd… changed his mind. So I went home."

"Changed his mind about what?" Sam pressed, and then let go of the man when Dean shook his head. Adams pulled away.

"It's not important. I have to go." He twisted away and broke into a run. Dean caught Sam's elbow.

"Leave him. He's had a hard day." Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

"Wanna fill me in?"

"Father Adams there was in love with Nick Murphy. Or in lust at least. He confessed all, hoping Nick would be angry and stop coming to church. Turns out Nick had a thing for the priest too. I guess that's why he invited him over."

"Did they… I mean uh-" Dean shook his head.

"I don't know but I doubt it. I think this all happened the night Nick and his friends vanished and Adams here thought Nick had changed his mind. Then he couldn't tell anyone what he knew, that Nick Murphy went to the bar much later than what the barman said in the police report."

"OK," Sam said slowly, thinking hard. "So what does that mean?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "But something smells off. How do we know Nick was in that bar at all?"

"The barman and several patrons all reported seeing him with the others," Sam pointed out.

"Sure," Dean said easily. "They saw one of the Murphy twins."

Sam blinked as that sunk in."You think it was John in the bar that night?" he breathed

"Maybe. And that means we didn't talk to John this morning, we talked to Nick."

"I'm still confused," Sam huffed. "What difference does it make?"

"Why pretend to be John?" Dean said insistently. "Why all of this charade?" Sam chewed on his lip for a moment. "He knows something. He must."

"Let's say you're right," Sam allowed. "What does that mean?"

"It means Father Adams might know too. So we follow him." He nodded in the direction of the fleeing priest. "I'm guessing he'll head straight to the garage where John works."

It would be nice if Dean could be wrong about something, just for once, Sam thought. They'd followed Father Adams to Mendelsohn's Tire and Lube and found him in deep conversation with "John" Murphy. They were standing very close, and staring intently at each other as they spoke. Sam elbowed Dean.

"You were right," he told him.

"I'm always right," Dean said modestly. "What am I right about now?"

"That's Nick, not John." Sam said patiently. Dean peered at the two men and then cast a glance at Sam.

"How can you tell?" He asked. "John and Nick look identical to me." Sam laughed softly.

"Look at how they're standing. Straight guys don't stand that close to one another."

"Cas stands that close to me," Dean objected and Sam laughed harder.

"I rest my case," he said and Dean scowled at him. He pushed away from the tree they were hiding behind and strolled casually over to the two men.

"Father Adams," he said, relaxed and friendly. Adams stiffened. "And John. Or is it Nick?"

"People often get us confused," John said comfortably. "But it's Nick who's missing."

"Is it?" Sam said, one hand on his hip. "Because if that's the case, you seem awfully friendly with the priest for a man who supposedly hardly ever goes to church. A priest who had just confessed his forbidden love to your brother."

"Fuck."

"Nick…"

"Leave it, Jamie. All right, you sons of bitches. Yes, it was John who went missing. Messed up everything."

"You wanna explain, maybe?" Dean said pointedly.

"We were going to leave town, together. Jamie was going to give up the church, or I dunno convert or something. To a more open and less judgemental faith. I hated my job and although I've got great friends, I wanted more from life than being stuck in some little town. So we were going go to San Francisco, where nobody would care who we were or tell us we couldn't be together. I lied to you about how our parents felt about me coming out. Dad wasn't just upset. He was pissed. Beat seven shades of Hell out of me that night. Kicked me out. Stopped me seeing my mom, and even told John to stay away from me. John ignored him, and Mom would sneak over to my apartment sometimes. But Dad was adamant that I was no longer his son." Adams was holding onto Nick's hand, tears running down his face.

"John agreed to take my place Friday night. To make it more difficult for Dad to find out what had happened. We didn't want him to follow us."

"OK, but why do you think he would do that? You came out in senior year? No offence but that was years ago."

"Dad's running for mayor of Salem. Bad enough to have a gay son, he told me I needed to keep my nose clean until after the election. Running away with the Catholic priest would have been a huge scandal."

"OK, makes sense. So what went wrong?"

"John called me around 10, it was hard to hear what he was saying but I could hear all these dogs barking. They don't allow dogs in the bar so I don't know where he was calling from. Then I heard screaming. I ran out of here and told my neighbor to tell anyone who was looking for me that I'd left with my friends. I was still hoping we could pull this off." He shifted his free hand to Adams' hip and the priest swayed forward. Dean cleared his throat theatrically.

"OK. So did you find your brother and your friends?"

"No. I didn't even know where to start looking. I went over to the bar and Jake, the barman, said they'd left about an hour ago. It was just before 11pm by the time I spoke to him. I was frantic but what could I do? I called Jacinta, Jared's wife and she said he hadn't come home. So I called the police. Turns out Sister Angelica had just made her report about seeing them with a group of hunters. Not regular hunters, the old fashioned kind you know with hounds and horses. Like in England."

"Who hunts with hounds round here?" Sam asked gently.

"Nobody I know," Nick said. "You can only hunt certain animals with hounds. Foxes, bobcats. Maybe raccoons too, I can't remember. Most of my friends who hunt like bigger game." Adams shuddered with apparent disgust.

"OK, I think we're done here. Stick around, willya?" Dean drawled. "We might have more questions for you." Adams nodded and his gaze flicked questioningly to Sam. Dean shook his head and the priest nodded.