New chapter! I don't think this took too long. But if it did, I apologize. Enjoy this chapter. Remember, I don't own Baccano or Supernatural and never will.

Claire tried very hard not to smirk. He felts ropes being tied around him very tightly, but not quite tightly enough to contain him when he decided to escape. The two boys talked over him, arguing about his humanity, oh if only they knew. The wound on his head slowly closed up, making both of them fall silent to watch the strange scene. He snapped his head up, grinning at both of them. He didn't like boring kills. And this could be the perfect chance for some fun for the sociopath.

Dean stepped forward, unflinching, and ran the tip of a silver knife down the side of his cheek. He didn't flinch when it broke through the skin. A few seconds later, the blood returned to the cut and it healed itself automatically. The man dropped the knife, staring in confusion at the other.

"How the hell is it doing that," the other, Sam, asked.

"I can't help that I'm immortal," Claire answered, making the two look at him with a mix of confusion and disgust. "Just like you can't help that you're both just a product of my mind. If I didn't want you here, I could just zap you away, easy as that."

"Oh, so you're no monster. Just crazy," Dean said, rolling his eyes and turning away. "Maybe we should just throw him out in back and leave him there."

Sam wasn't listening to his brother's suggestion though. He just continued to stare at Claire, eyebrows furrowing. "Are you the Rail Tracer?" he asked, suddenly. "The legend you told us earlier. The only reason you know it is because, it's you isn't it?"

"Oh, you're a bit smarter than I've given you credit for." Claire smirked, looking up at them through his red bangs which fell in front of his face. "Aren't you two curious to know how I healed so easily? You did draw blood…because I let you. But there's no wounds now. You wanna know? I know you do." He chuckled, a bit darkly.

"Yeah, we wanna know. So you're going to start talking. Now," Dean ordered, picking up another knife and holding it under Claire chin, pressed to his throat.

"That's not going to do any good with me," he said with a laugh. "I'll tell you everything you wanna know if you do me a favor."

"Why the hell would we do you a favor?" Dean asked, voice hardening as the knife pressed harder against his skin. "You'll talk because we say you will or we'll just torture it out of you. We don't take orders from monsters."

"Monster?" He shook his head, allowing the knife to slice into the skin of his throat and laughing as it healed before the hunters' eyes. "I'm no more of a monster than you two are. I'm just…basically your God. I created you both with just the power of my mind. You're both basically a dream I'm having."

"Did you kill the people aboard the train? The U.S. continental?" Sam asked. "There's no way you could have done that if you weren't some kind of monster. Those people were torn apart like rag dolls. What the hell do you know about that?"

Claire just stared at them for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders, the ropes falling to the ground around him. He stood up, as the Winchester's quickly backed away and armed themselves. "I'm not going to try and kill you again. You guys are too much fun to kill. I just want a simple favor and I'll answer all of your questions, okay?" His hands folded in front of him, an evil glint in his eyes. "Of course, killing you would be easy as well. It's your choice, boys."

"What kind of favor do you want from us?" Sam spit out, eyes flicking over toward his older brother. His teeth clenched slightly, nerves at high alert. "If you're going to ask us to abandon the case or something…"

"No, I wouldn't ask something like that," Claire said, pacing over to the table where an assortment of knives and guns lay scattered, ready for use. He hoisted himself up easily, sitting on the edge and picked up a fairly large, silver blade and began toying with it, making the Winchester's even more nervous than they already were. "I can tell you two are very dedicated to…whatever you think you're going to accomplish here. And just me making you get out of town wouldn't be quite as interesting. No, it's something much simpler than that. Something to make my brother stop worrying so much."

"Well, spit it out," Dean commanded, trying desperately not to reveal how the man's casual actions were putting him on edge. He hated not knowing what to do. Hunting was the one place he seemed to shine, and for this creature, whatever he was, to stump the man like this was a serious blow to his self-esteem, whatever was left of it anyway.

"I need you to call my brother. I can give you the number. Just let him know you aren't real FBI agents so that he can maybe get some sleep tonight. For someone in his position, the FBI is probably the scariest thing in the world."

The blaringly loud ringing of a phone woke the slumbering man. His golden eyes blinked open, a groan escaping his lips. He sat up, slowly, blinking in a sort of confusion before the sound registered and his eyes found the phone, sitting on his desk across the room. He slowly stood up and walked over, yawning slightly. It was rare he got calls on his personal phone. It was even rarer that it would be something serious. More than likely, it was Claire or Firo. A sleepy, "Hello," was spoken into the speaker, met by a static filled silence. "Hello," he asked again, more insistent.

"Yeah, I'm asking for uh..Luck? Is that what you said? Luck? Okay, yeah. Luck," an unfamiliar voice said, seemingly speaking to someone else with him. "Yeah, this is concerning your brother."

"What about my brother," Luck asked, voice going icy. His eyes narrowed as he walked to the other side of the room and pressed the button that would send an alert to the rooms his other two brothers should be sleeping in. They would be there in just a few minutes.

"Yeah, he wanted me to call you and let you know that we're not FBI," the voice said, surprising the man. "Yeah, he just wanted you not to worry, I guess." There was a pause, a clanging coming from the other side almost as if the phone had been dropped. Then, the voice continued after a moment. "Yeah, not FBI. We're just two guys looking into things for our own personal amusement. Sorry to bother you."

The line went dead just as Berga came lumbering in the room with sleepy eyes but bod alert. "What's going on, Luck?" he asked, looking around. "The alarms started going off the hook."

"The FBI's got Claire," he said, as Keith also slipped into the room, slyly looking around. "Well, it's not the FBI actually. Which just begs the question: who are they?"

"Okay, we did what you asked us," Dean said, setting down the phone and looking over to the grinning man still perched atop the table. "Now, you answer some of our questions, right?"

"Depends on what you ask," Claire said, dropping the knife down onto the carpeted floor, now bored with it. "So, ask away, and keep me interested."

"What are you," Sam asked, attempting to stare him down.

"Um, well, human, I guess in your terms. Though, like I said, everything is just a part of my mind. I made all of this up, this room, those beds, even you two. So, I guess, I'm kinda like a god."

Dean looked over at Sam, a moment of worry flashing over his face. "Is this a Djinn induced dream or something? Was it you or…is it me?"

Claire chuckled, shaking his head. "You two just don't get it. You don't actually exist! You're not dreaming. I am!" He hopped off the table, making the others take a few steps back. "I'm tired of explaining this. Move on."

"What happened on board the U.S. Continental?"

"Which one?" Claire asked, a demonic look coming over his face, sending shivers up both men's spines. "There's been several train related…accidents… over the years. You'll have to remind me of which we're talking about."

"The one from last week," Sam said, trying to prod the man. "Please, we just want to understand why…how you could do something like that."

Claire sighed, crossing his arms. "A few weeks ago, that train thundered through Chicago. Chicago's one of my favorite cities, besides New York City. Anyway, I stood outside the train as all these passengers got off. All of them. Every passenger that got on in Seattle was forced off, their bags thrown to the ground. Young women, children that were traveling alone were forced off. Then, these men, men in dark cloaks looking like they stepped out of a book about the nineteenth century got on. I asked what was going on, wanting to know why in the hell these men were more important than every other passenger. The conductor told me that they were part of some society, like the Masons, and had paid through the nose to make sure the whole train was emptied out for them. Well, I smelled a rat, of course. So, just as we got outside New York, I heard a commotion coming from one of the passenger cars. I went to find out what it was and well, these men were sacrificing a young child, drinking his blood like wine. I was disgusted, of course, and decided to wipe the scum off the face of the earth."

"Why didn't you just go to the authorities, like a normal person?" Dean asked, stepping forward. "They could have handled it and well, you wouldn't have become a murderer."

"I'm already a murderer," Claire said, chuckling softly. "I've worked for the mafia as a hitman for several long decades. Trust me, some of the things I've done could turn your stomach. What happened aboard that train was barely a workout for me."

A heavy silence fell, making the other two men take several steps away from the man they now knew was a murderer. It had been clear before, but now it was even more obvious. They could now both almost see the red head committing each awful act, with a smile on his face. Terror was an emotion neither had felt for a long time but it was edging up on the surface for both of them as the demonic man looked between them. He was enjoying this, toying with them. Maybe he really did think he was their god. Maybe he really was.

"Look," Claire said, inching backwards toward the window. "Those men deserved what they got. I wouldn't have killed them all if they hadn't. You both should just pack up and move on. Do whatever you do far away from this city, because trust me, whatever happens here is going to be controlled by me and my brothers."

"We can't do that," Sam said, suddenly, making the man stop his retreat. "What you did was horrible, inhuman, even if they did deserve the worst for their actions. It's not your place to decide that. I don't think you are human. And when nonhuman things kill humans-"

"We kill it," Dean finished for him, eyes going hard.

Claire looked between the two men for a moment, then began to chuckle, darkly. "Well, I'll hand it to you boys. You've got spunk. And you're half-right. I'm not exactly human. But I am. Or I was. Still am. I don't know. But what you really need to know is that you can't kill me. There's absolutely no way."

"We'll see about that," Dean said, a hint of malice edging up in his voice as did the courage in his spirit. "Just know this, we're not leaving until you're good and dead."

"Then I guess I should say welcome to your new home. New York City. It's a wonderful place to live," the other said, chuckling again. He was completely unperturbed by the mens' threats. He just continued to smile at them in a way that was becoming more and more uncertain. "Just a warning, though. There are others like me in this city that aren't quite as…nice. They will take your threats seriously, and they will deal with the problem. You. So, you might want to rethink this crusade. Or just pray you won't run into any of them."

He turned and slipped out of the window as quickly and quietly as he had entered, leaving the Winchester's just staring at the place he had been. A heavy feeling settled on both of them, goosebumps rising on their arms. It wasn't every day that something could unsettle the hunters in this way, but somehow this man had done it. They knew for sure to take his threats seriously, but they also knew they couldn't just leave. They would stay until they could make some sense out of everything. Figure out what was going on. They would figure out some way to kill the monster known as Rail Tracer, or they would die trying.

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