Chapter 03 — Heartache

Addison moans as the hot water flows over her back. She closes her eyes. Dean gently washes the blood off of her injury. She presses her lips against his. His hand gently grips the back of her head, holding her close. Her hand travels down his chest and grasps his cock. His hand slides between them. Her breath hitches when he gently rubs her clit. She wraps an arm around his neck as he hitches her leg over his waist. Addison grabs the shower curtain rod as he slowly guides his cock into her. "Fuck, you feel good," Dean mutters, slowly thrusting.

A banging on the door causes the two of them to freeze. "Are you guys almost done," Sam shouts, through the door. "I need to use the bathroom."

The two of them stare at each other. "Maybe if we don't move he'll go away," Addison softly says.

"Guys, come on!"

Addison watches as the conflict plays out on Dean's face. She knew what he was thinking. Addison narrows her gaze. "Your dick is inside me and you're seriously considering not fucking me," she hisses. "We've been home for almost two weeks and this is the closet we've come to actual sex."

"You're back has been healing after being ripped open by dragons," Dean argues. "In fact, it's still healing. We shouldn't fuck until it's healed."

She rolls her eyes. "Don't tell me you're turning into the chick of this relationship."

Dean glares at her as he reluctantly pulls out of her. He presses her against the cool tile and she hisses as her back comes in contact. "Believe me, babe, there's nothing more than I want to do than spend a day fucking you until you can't walk. But I'm not gonna be the reason why your back takes twice as long to heal. You're barely touching the wall and I know that you're in pain."

"Dean—"

"Focus on healing, Ads. Strictly research for you." He softly kisses her. "Believe me, I hate waiting too."

"Wow," Dean says, as he reads a news alert on his phone. The boys and Addison had decided to visit a local farmers' market. Well, Sam had wanted to go and Dean and Addison had reluctantly agreed. "We go to Purgatory for a year, all hell breaks loose. Check this out. A jogger in Minneapolis gets his heart ripped out."

"Literally," Addison questions.

"Only way that interests me. And then, there's another article from six months ago. Same thing happens, also in Minneapolis. What does that tell us?"

"Stay out of Minneapolis," Sam suggests.

Addison rolls her eyes. "Ritual. There's no way that happens in the same city twice within six months."

"Or at least some sort of heart sucking, possessed, satanic, crack whore bat," Dean adds.

Sam shoots his brother a confused look. "A what?"

"It's a case. Look, I say we hang out the shingle again and ride."

"We're on a case, Dean. Kevin and the demon tablet need to be found, so heart guy takes a number."

"Uh, we just spent a week chasing our asses trying to lock Kevin down, okay? And look at us. We're…" Dean frowns as he looks around. "Where the fuck are we?"

"Farmers' market," Sam slowly explains, smirking. He holds up an apple. "Organic."

"Did you become a pretentious douchebag while we were fighting for our lives," Addison asks, rolling her eyes.

Sam shoots her an annoyed look. "I had a year off. I took the time to enjoy the good things."

"While not looking for us or doing what we actually do."

"Wow, Addison, does it make you feel that much better every time you say it?"

"All right, man, look, we get it," Dean says, placing himself between his brother and his girlfriend. "You took a year off to do yoga and play the lute, whatever, but we're back. Okay, we're back, which means that we walk and kill monsters at the same time. We'll find Kevin. But in the meantime, do we ignore stuff like this? Or are innocent people supposed to die so that you can shop for produce?"

Addison blinks as a dizzy spell hits her. She leans against a nearby tree and takes a deep breath. Dean, Castiel, and Benny weren't that far ahead of her, but she knew she couldn't go on. She touches her side and isn't surprised to find it covered in blood. "Dean," she tiredly calls out. She could feel her eyelids growing heavy and she knew it was only a matter of time.

Warm hands cup her face and she looks up to find Dean in front of her. "Ads, we're almost there," he says. Concern was etched across his green eyes. She shakes her head, knowing that she wouldn't be able to make it. Her eyes slowly start to close. "Addison, look at me." She complies. "We're almost home. I'm not going anywhere without you."

Addison tiredly smiles. "You're a stubborn ass, you know that."

Dean smirks. "One of the many things you love about me." Addison rolls her eyes and pushes away from the tree. She takes a step forward, but stops when another dizzy spell hits. An arm wraps around her waist and she looks up to see find Dean. He scoops her up and her head rests on his shoulder. "Damn. You're heavy."

Addison tiredly chuckles. "And you're the one who lives on a diet mainly of cheeseburgers and whiskey."

Dean tightens his grip on her as he catches up with Castiel and Benny. "How much farther do we got?"

Addison takes a sip of her coffee as she watches people around the coffee shop. She had thought Dean was joking when he said she was on research duty until he wouldn't let her go with him and Sam to the police station to interview witness. Her phone buzzes and she picks it up to see Sarah's name on the screen. "So, you and Dean went to Purgatory and came back out. Alive and in one piece," Sarah greets.

"Basically," Addison softly replies.

"You guys must have some super shitty ptsd."

Addison chuckles. "We sure do. The only thing good that came out of being stuck there was that Dean and I decided to us as a couple a real shot."

"Finally. You two were made for each other."

Addison takes a deep breath. "I need a favor."

"And what would that be?"

"I got hurt, real bad in Purgatory. Cas…he tried to heal me, but couldn't."

"Angel powers don't work on the bloodline once they hit thirty-three."

"Yeah."

"I'll do it on one condition."

Addison closes her eyes. "What would that be?"

"You do the spell."

"The spell that would activate my powers."

"That's the one."

"I can't do that. The boys…I haven't talked to them about it."

"Then I can't heal you. Let me know when you change your mind."

Sarah hangs up on her and Addison drops her phone on the table. She buries her head in her hands and takes a deep breath. A hand lightly touches her shoulder and she looks up to see. "Everything okay, Ads," he asks, sitting down at the table next to her.

"Sarah called me."

"Is she gonna heal you?"

"No."

"Bitch."

"All right, so what's the word," Sam questions, joining them at the table. He turns to his older brother. "What did you find poking around at Paul's?"

"Ah, just the usual. Condoms, hair gel. No hex bags, nothing satanic, nothing spooky."

"So, he didn't seem like a guy who would be voted most likely to disembowel?"

"No, they never do."

"I have something," Addison says.

"A murder," Sam asks.

"Along with a DIY heart bypass. Two days after this one."

"What part of Minneapolis?"

"The Ames, Iowa part."

"Well, Paul was here being questioned. There's no way that could have been him."

"They guy was cop. And it happened exactly six months ago. Minneapolis, then Ames. Guess you decided to ignore that while eating all that organic food."

Sam shakes his head. "You know what, Addison, I'm tired you being a giant bitch."

Addison stares at him for a moment. The she slams her Macbook shut, shoves it in her messenger bag, and grabs her coffee cup before walking out of the cafe. Dean runs a hand over his face. The last thing he wanted to deal with was the two most important people to him fighting. "Dude, just give her some time," Dean tells his younger brother.

"Just because you two are fuck buddies again doesn't mean you get to defend her being a bitch," Sam argues. Dean shakes his head and stands up. He knew that there was nothing he could say to change Sam's mind. There were things that happened in Purgatory that neither he or Addison were ready to talk about. Or ever wanted to talk about.

Addison raises an eyebrow at the recording that Sam plays. She was wearing her old Yale sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants while the boys were still dressed in their FBI suits. Once more, she had elected to stay behind and do research while the boys went to visit the police. "So, what do you guys think," Sam asks, watching as Dean takes a seat on the bed that Addison was stretched out on.

"Personally, I prefer the Keith Richards version," Dean replies, turning his attention to his phone.

"Really, I like the Lady Gaga remix more," Addison amusedly replies.

Sam rolls his eyes. "Can either of you actually understand any of the words?"

"It sounds like a guy on meth babbling."

"I bought a translation app," Dean says.

Sam stares at him. "You bought an app."

"Yeah. Here, play it." Dean holds out his phone and Sam plays the recording once more. He looks at his phone. "And babble wins. 'Language unknown.'" Sam's phone rings and he walks towards the other side of the room. Dean gently nudges Addison's leg and she looks up at him. "You okay?"

Addison shoots him a soft smile. "I'm fine."

"That was the police station," Sam says, turning back to them. "Arthur Swensen's in the hospital. He cut out his eye."

Dean stands up. "Ads and I will check it out." She shoots him a questioning look. "It'll be fun."

"So, Dr. Kashi, what are we looking at here," Dean asks as he and Addison stand outside of Arthur Swensen's hospital room. Addison glances in the room and finds a middle aged man lying on the bed, with a bandage wrapped around his head. "Some kind of psychotic break?"

"Oh, definitely," Dr. Kashi replies. "He was very thorough. Severed the optic nerve. He was determined to remove the eye."

"Uh, what did he use to remove the eye," Addison questions.

"He doesn't look strong enough, but he broke off part of the bed frame and used it as a knife." A nurse walks over to them and hands the doctor a file. "Thank you."

"Wow," Dean says. "They should put warning labels on those beds."

"Like I said. Determined."

"I noticed that he had two different colored eyes."

"Yes. Apparently, he was in an accident where much of one eye was shattered. His vision was saved with a transplant."

Addison frowns, the wheels turning in her head. "When did this happen?"

Dr. Kashi opens the file. "A year ago, almost to the date. And, interestingly, it's the translated eye he chose to cut out."

"Really?" Addison glances in the room once more. "Doctor, is it possible to trace the donor of a transplanted organ?"

"Difficult."

"But possible," Addison asks, smiling. Dr. Kashi smiles at her in return.

Addison starts to climb out of the Impala, but Dean grabs her arm. She looks over at him with a raised eyebrow. He pulls her into kiss. This was different. It was filled with a hunger that both had been denying themselves since they had come back from Purgatory. "What was that for," Addison breathes, her fist clenching his shirt.

"You and that hot doctor flirting," Dean murmurs, his lips trailing down her neck. His hand slips under her shirt and gently caresses her breast. She arches her back as she pulls his lips back to hers. His tongue gently teases hers and the only thing she can think about is his mouth on her.

Addison lets out a strangle cry of pain when her back hits the seat. He lets out a frustrated sigh, burying his face in her breasts. "Please don't stop," she begs. "I'm fine. It was just unexpected."

Dean lightly applies pressure to her right side, where part of her injury was. She winces. He pushes himself up. "You just started healing, Ads."

Her head thumps against the seat. "Stupid fucking dragons."

Dean chuckles and lightly kisses her before sitting up. He climbs out of the Impala. Addison sits up and grabs the bag of food and drink tray off the floor. She shoots him a smile when he opens the door for her. His hand rests on the small of her back. "Hey," he greets to Sam as they enter the motel room.

"Hey," Sam replies. He was sitting on his bed, with laptop. "Arthur Swenson had an eye transplant a year ago, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I remembered that Paul Hayes was talking about a health scare he had a year ago that changed his life, so I pulled up his medical records from Minneapolis." Dean and Addison exchange a look. "You guys want me on board, I'm on board. Anyways, you want to guess who else, other than Arthur Swenson, had a transplant in the last year?"

"Paul Hayes," Addison suggests.

"I gave it away, didn't I?"

"Oh yeah. So, we've got two suspect in two identical murders in two different cities that both had organ transplants a year ago."

"Yeah. Also—"

Dean groans. "I love when there's an 'also.'"

"I got to thinking about all that stuff Arthur Swenson was talking about. Maybe you translation app called it language unknown because it's a dead language like Ancient Greek or Manx."

"Manx?"

"They spoke it on the Isle of Man," Addison softly explains and Dean nods.

"So, I e-mailed an audio file of Arthur's mumbling to Dr. Morrison," Sam continues.

"Who," Dean and Addison ask at once.

"Dr. Morrison, the anthropology professor who helped us out with the Amazons."

Dean nods, remembering the professor that they had went to because Addison had been sick with the flu. "Yeah, okay. Okay. Well, let's get our asses on the road."

"Headed to…" Sam trails off.

"Well, if we are in a repeat of a cycle from six months ago, then, after the murders in Minneapolis and in Ames, the next heart attack was in Boulder, Colorado."

Dean glances in the rearview mirror to find Addison was lying down in the backseat, asleep. She was stretched out on her stomach as that was the only comfortable way for her to sleep. He glances over at Sam. It was like old times. Through something still didn't feel right. "All right, case is coming together. Things are come together, man. You and me. It's all good," Dean says. Sam remains quiet. "Hey."

Sam glances at him. "What?"

"What are you thinking about? Organic tomatoes?"

"Uh, I'm not thinking about anything."

"I don't know about you, but this last year has given me perspective."

"I hear you. Believe me."

"I know where I'm at my best and that is right here, driving down crazy street next to you."

"Makes sens."

"Yes, it does."

"Or…maybe you and Addison don't need me. I mean, you're at your best hacking and slicing your way through all the world's shit with just her."

"Yeah, that makes sense, seeing as I have so many other brothers I can talk to about this stuff."

"Look, I'm not saying I'm bailing on you guys. I'm just saying make room for the possibility that we want different things. I mean, I want my time to count for something."

"So, what we do doesn't count?"

Addison's cell suddenly rings. She groans and gropes the floor for it, finding it in her bag. "Hello," she tiredly greets, sitting up. "Hey, Dr. Kashi. Okay. Thank you. Uh, could you possibly run one more name for me?" She softly laughs. "I'll see what I can do. Uh, Hayes, Paul. Yeah. And the donor? How many others? Did anybody from Boulder, Colorado receive any of those organs? Okay, thank you."

Dean smirks as Addison runs a hand through her hair. "What'd the good doc want? Other than to flirt with you."

"Um, she says that Paul Hayes' kidney and Arthur Swenson's new eye from some guy named Brick Holmes."

Sam turns in the seat to look at her. "You don't mean the Brick Holmes."

"Am I supposed to know who that is?"

"The all pro-quarterback?"

Addison stares at him. "You're saying words that have no meaning to me."

"Ads, the guy played at the top of his game for like a million year," Dean tells her.

"Yeah, he bought it in a car crash last year," Sam finishes.

"So, he's a dead football player who died in a car accident," Addison asks, looking between them.

"Nose dived off a bridge or something. He must've signed a donor card. Did the doc say how many organs he donated?"

"Eight, including our two suspects."

"Eight?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, um, and one of them's in Boulder, am I right?"

"Actually, no."

"Good news is, Brick lived just outside of Boulder," Dean says.

"Well, Brick's dead," Sam argues, turning to his brother.

"Yeah, but he's all we got, so we are going to Boulder."

Mrs. Holmes is a woman in her seventies. The trio had no problem finding her home, despite the fact that she was the mother of a famous football player. They were sitting in her living room. "We just want to say how sorry we are for you loss, Mrs. Holmes," Dean says.

Mrs. Holmes shoots them a sad smile. "Thank you."

"You know, Brick Holmes was my idol back in high school. Amazing career. Uh, eighteen pro seasons, seven division championships, four Super Bowls…never slowed down a day," Sam adds.

"Brick lived for competition and athletic perfection. I don't think it occurred to his fans that he was human, like the rest of us."

"Did you know that your son was an organ donor," Addison asks.

Mrs. Holmes frowns. "Does that make this a matter for the FBI?"

"Like we explained earlier, we're mostly here to dot some I's on a different matter."

"There was a public awareness thing a few years ago. A lot of star athletes signed on. I'm sure Brick didn't think twice about it, since he never thought he was going to do."

"A lot of jocks are like that, I guess," Dean begins. "You know, I - I can't help wonder what happened that night on the bridge. There was light traffic, no alcohol involved, no skid marks. Big time athlete, reflexes like a cat, how is that he just drives off the side of a bridge?"

"When things happen that aren't supposed to happen, they're called accidents, I believe."

"So, everybody knows about Brick's football career, obviously, but no one knows much about his personal life. Was he ever married."

"Just to the game. He gave it everything he had. It's a difficult life."

"Did you notice any changes in Brick before he died," Addison questions. "Did anything new happen in his life?"

"No, no. I don't think so."

"So, no new interests," Dean asks. "Fly fishing, stamp collecting, the occult?"

"The occult?"

"As a 'for instance.'"

"No. Everything was just as it had been. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid my time is up," Mrs. Holmes says, standing up. "The university is naming a new athletic building after Brick. I can't be late."

"Of course," Sam replies as they stand up. "Just one more question."

"There is always one more question in life, isn't there," Mrs. Holmes says, leading them to the door. It was clear that she wasn't going to answer anymore questions. "That's what I find."

Addison shoots the woman a smile. "Thank you for your time."

"Oh, she didn't want to say much, did she," Sam says as they near the Impala.

"Son of a bitch," Dean mutters, looking at his phone.

"What?"

"There it is. It happened."

"Come on, don't tell me someone had their heart ripped out here in Boulder."

Dean nods. "All right, then, I won't tell you."

"All right, Professor Morrison, that does it," Sam says, into his phone as he walks around the motel room. Dean and Addison were sitting at the small table, each with a laptop in front of them. "Yes, I am totally looking into adding you as technical advisor. Yeah, it - it comes with a medical plan. All right, goodbye."

"He come through," Dean questions.

"Yeah, he did. All right, so, here's what crazy Arthur Swenson was babbling over and over. Um, first, it is a dead language - ancient Mayan."

"Doesn't get much deader than that."

"So, what Arthur was saying was 'the divine god Cacao is born.'"

"Cacao?"

"Cacao. Yeah, the Mayan God of maize - corn, the big crop. See, Cacao was the most powerful god because maize was the most important thing to the Mayans. Well, that and torturing and killing everyone in sight."

"So, we're looking for a thousand year old god of corn," Addison summarizes.

"Uh, I guess."

"Well, whoever or whatever it is, we need to act fast because someone in Phoenix is going to get their heart ripped out."

"Someone in Phoenix got a piece of Brick?"

"Yeah. I just e-mailed the police," Addison says, turning her computer to the article she had found online about a missing man in Arizona. "They e-mailed back pretty quick. They haven't seen the guy in a few days.

"Got another e-mail here too," Dean says, looking at his younger brother. "This one is for you. From a university. Answering questions about admissions."

"Just something I'm looking into. An option," Sam defends.

"You're seriously talking about hanging it up?"

"I'm not talking about anything, Dean. I'm just looking at options." They stare at him. "So, what, should we just go to Phoenix and chase our tails until this guy shows his face?"

"No. Uh, Brick Holmes is the way into this. Eleanor Holmes was doing her damnedest not to tell us a thing. Nice job on changing the subject, though."

The trio breaks into Eleanor Holmes' house later that night, while Eleanor was at the naming ceremony. They had parked down the street and Dean had easily picked the lock on the front door. "All right, naming ceremony's over at ten," Dean says, as they walk through the house. "We got to get in and out."

"Master bedroom," Addison suggests. Dean nods and they make their way up stairs.

It was a large bedroom with two closets on either side of the room. "Closets," Dean says. He and Addison take one while Sam takes the other one. It was obviously a man's closet, given the clothing that was hanging up. "Brick's closet. Look like the stuff hasn't been touched in year. Man, what this stuff would go for on eBay."

Addison opens a drawer and finds a bottle of peroxide in the drawer. "Uh, this guy wasn't a natural blonde," she says, holding up the bottle.

"Guys, this is really weird," Sam calls out.

"What do you got," Dean asks.

"I don't know. Is this Eleanor's closet?"

Dean and Addison exchange a look. "Why would his mother's closet be in his bedroom," Addison questions, stepping out of the closet. "Are you sure?"

"Check this out." Sam steps out and holds up an outfit. It was the same one that she had been wearing earlier that day. "This is what she was wearing today when we talked to her."

"Maybe she moved into Brick's room after he died," Dean suggests. "Or…" He glances at the bed and Addison smacks him on the arm.

"That's gross," she tells him and Sam can't help but nod in agreement.

They go back to the respective closets. As Dean and Addison start relooking through the room, he finds another door behind some clothes. "That's what I'm talking about."

Addison turns and finds that he's entered the room. She rolls her eyes. "Sam," she calls, before following Dean. The room was filled with a variety of sports memorabilia. Trophies were sitting on each of the shelves. "Wow. This…this is pretty crazy."

Sam pushes past her. "I knew he'd have something like this in his house."

"This is a lot of hardware," Dean beings. "Okay, the football trophies I get, but there's a lot of other stuff in here. I mean, baseball, boxing, race car driving."

"He was a fan. Any kind of athlete - he respected them. I mean, look at all the old stuff he's got - a cricket mallet, golf clubs, a Kendo sword, archery equipment."

"Dean, grab that," Addison says, pointing to an old shoebox sitting on a shelf. He easily reaches above her and grabs it. She takes it from him and opens it up to find old letters. "Whoa." She sets it on the table and they get to work reading the letters.

"They're all the same," Sam says, half hour later. "'Dearest Betsy…' Blah, blah, blah. Who's Betsy?"

Addison shrugs. "Girlfriend? Eleanor didn't mention a Betsy."

"This one looks old. Uh, 'Dearest Betsy, third day of training camp. Roadwork improving. Working on my left jab. They say this kid, Sugar Ray, is gonna be tough.'"

Dean frowns. "Sugar Ray? As in Robinson? Didn't he box in, like, the forties? Is it signed the same?"

"Yeah. 'Love, me.'" The trio keeps going through the letters, each finding that it covered different sports over the past century. "Wait, this one looks recent. 'Dearest Betsy, so tired of it all.'"

"Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all," Addison mutters.

Addison yawns as she reclines against the pillows. She was sitting on one of the beds with her laptop and a mountain of books spread around her. Dean had pulled up a chair next to the same bed to research with her. She winces as the stitches along her right side pull. He shoots her a worried look and she smiles reassuringly at him. "Hey," Sam says, from where he was sitting at the table. "I pulled up the names on those trophies. Check it out." Dean and Addison gather around Sam. A photo of Brick Holmes was on the screen. "All right, Brick Holmes - football player." He brings up another photo. "Charlie Karnes - race car driver." An older photo is brought up. "Davey Samuelson - baseball player." Another photo, in black and white, is brought up. "Kelly Duran - boxer. Four different guys, right."

"Okay," Dean and Addison say at the same time.

"Check this out." Sam arranges all four photos next to each other. "Same dark eyes, same cheekbones, nose, mouth."

"Wait, are you saying that these four guys who all look to be in their mid-twenties and go back seventy years could to be the same guy," Dean questions. "Wow. For a ninety-five year old, Brick Holmes could take a hit."

"So, if all those athletes were the same guy, how'd he pull it off? Appear, then go away and come back with a new look?"

"Cacao," Addison says. She's met with two looks. "The Mayan god."

"Yeah."

"The Mayan were all about war, torture, conquest, and sports," Addison explains, walking towards the bed. She grabs her laptop. "They treated their athletes like kings. And the Mayan athletes made sacrifices to Cacao by killing a victim, pulling out his heart, and eating it. They believe the rituals gave them super charged power over their opponents."

"Yeah, but they didn't stay young forever. So, what? Maybe Brick just made some kind of deal with this Cacao?"

"Well, we've seen it before," Dean says. "People making deals with demons, gods. I mean, maybe he stayed young and strong so long as the sacrifices kept coming. Remember all that antique sports equipment he had? This guy could go back to the Mayan days."

"Wow. So, one of the greatest QBs to ever play the game was over nine hundred years old."

"Well, that explains Brick, but what about the mooks carrying his spare parts?"

"Maybe the spell went with his parts," Addison suggests. "Infected the people who got his organs."

Sam nods in agreement. "Remember how Paul Hayes said he had a health scare that changed his life? I mean, maybe the spell could compel him to keep carrying out the ritual."

"Sort of like getting bit by a werewolf. I mean, once you're infected, you do what you got to do, especially if you like the results," Dean replies.

"Right, except old Arthur, the dedicated cop. Couldn't handle it and went huts. Brick Holmes, a heart eater. Who knew?"

"Yeah, uh, sorry that your icon is a nine hundred year old, heart eating dick," Addison tells him.

"Well, at least he wasn't sleeping with his mother."

"Yeah, good, Sam. Find the silver lining," Dean mocks.

"No, seriously. Look."

They walk over to find a picture of a woman with the boxer. "'Fighter Kelly Duran is congratulated on a second round knockout by wife betsy,'" he reads. "'Dearest Betsy.'"

The next day, the trio walks up to Eleanor's house. Addison knocks on the door. They had spent breakfast, trying to figure out how to take care of their problem. Eleanor opens the door and the trio stares at her. "Hello, Eleanor," Sam greets.

"Or would you rather us call you Betsy," Dean replies.

Eleanor sighs, opening the door further to allow them to enter. They sit down in the same spots on the couch as they did the day before. "Look, Eleanor, innocent people are dying. And they're gonna continue to die until we stop it."

"Did you know about the murders that have occurred over the past year," Addison questions.

"No," Eleanor answers, shaking her head. "I didn't. I swear. I thought when...when Brick died it would be over."

Dean leans forward. "Help us. Betsy, this is not what you want Brick's legacy to be."

Eleanor sighs, knowing that he was right. "His Mayan name was Inyo. He was a proud young athlete nearly a thousand years ago. He lived for sport and never wanted his days in the sun to end. so he arranged a bargain with the god Cacao through a high priest."

"Stay young forever."

"As long as the sacrifices continued, twice a year, once for the planting, once for the harvest."

"When did you find out about this," Sam asks.

"Not until I began to age and Brick...Kelly, as he was when I met him, did not. But by that time, Brick himself had changed...inside. He wasn't just the warrior whose only reason for living was combat. He - we were deeply, deeply in love. So in love, I'm ashamed to say, that when I found out that - how my husband stayed young and strong, I chose to ignore it.

Addison frowns. "But you guys had to go underground every few years to hide his secret?"

Eleanor nods. "Every ten years or so, he would, uh, re-emerge with a new look, a new name. And me, I was the wife and I was the woman in hiding and then, when I got into my forties, I became Brick's mother. Eleanor. I am so tired. You can't imagine the burden of it all. I think even Brick was through. He could see the end of my days were at hand and...He had lived centuries all alone, but I don't think he could bear the thought of life without. That's why he drove off that bridge." Eleanor sighs. "You must think I'm a monster."

"No," Dean tells her. "No, just that married one. Well, see, here's the deal. Now there are eight killers out there that we have to deal with, not just one."

Eleanor shakes her head. "I don't think so."

"What," Sam questions. "Why not?"

"Brick used to say the heart was key. That was the focus of the sacrifice."

"Are you saying that if we stop Brick's beating heart, then we could stop the whole thing," Dean asks. Eleanor nods.

Addison exchanges a look with Dean. "You wouldn't happen to know where the person with the heart is, would you?"

Addison sighs as she looks around the back alley of the strip club. Eleanor had given them the name and address of the woman who had Brick's heart. She had been annoyed when Dean had insisted that she hang back. She hated being injured, the pain that came with it. She hated being sideline and knowing that Sam was silently questioning why. She hated being angry at Sam, but it was hard for her to let go. Addison glances at her watch and frowns. It was taking to long for the two of them to take care of one stripper.

She makes her way inside the strip club. Sounds of multiple fights reach her. As Addison makes her way around the club, Dean's tossed onto the stage by two men. He grunts. The two men hold his arms down. "Oh, you guys are stronger than you look," Dean says, trying to pull out of the hold on him.

"Come with the package," one of the men say. "Plus, I work out a lot."

"You can't imagine who I was before," a woman says, standing in front of Dean. "This shy, awkward little thing from George with a heart condition. Then I had the surgery." She places a foot on Dean's chest. "I became fucking Xenia, Warrior Princess." Addison rolls her eyes when the woman straddles Dean's waist. "I couldn't dissect a frog in high school. But sacrificing to Cacao? Better than sex. So, if I go real slow and take my time and enjoy this, I can actually show you your own beating heart before you die."

Sam sees Addison slowly making her way towards the stage. Dean lets out a pain groan as the woman digs her nails into his chest. He grabs a beer bottle off a table and runs over to the stage before smashing it on the back of one of the men's heads. Addison runs over and shoves a knife into the woman's back. The woman stands up and stumbles back. Her stomach emits light red flames. The same flames come from the mens' chests before they fall to the ground, dead. A bright white light suddenly emits from the woman's chest. The lights disappear and the woman falls to the ground dead.

Addison walks over and holds out a hand to Dean. "I told you to stay in the car," Dean says, standing up.

"You know that I don't listen to directions," Addison replies. She smirks at him. "Beside, I think you needed my help."

"I had it covered."

Sam wakes up when he hears a loud thud in the silent motel room. He turns on the lamp next to him and sees that the other bed is empty. He rolls eyes and stares at the dark ceiling above him, annoyed that Dean and Addison had woken him up. He wasn't blind, but he was waiting for them to actually tell him. He runs a hand through his hair. "Dean," Addison calls out. Realizing that he probably wasn't going to get any more rest, Sam throws back the covers. "This isn't funny, Dean. I really need your help in here."

Sam knocks on the bathroom door. "Ads, he's not here." Concerned, he opens the bathroom door and steps in. Addison was sitting in the tub, with the shower curtain draped over her. "Did you—"

"Yes, I did," Addison snaps.

Sam shakes his head in amusement and grabs a towel. He holds out a hand. "I promise I won't look."

Addison sighs and grabs his hand. Her foot catches causing her to slip and he immediately wraps an arm around her waist to steady her. He stares at the wall behind her as he takes a step back. She winces as she wraps the towel around her body. "That's because you're a gentlemen, Sam." She bites her lip, before letting out a sigh. "I ripped my stitches."

Sam nods. "All right, I'll get the first aid kit and the whiskey." He walks out of the bathroom and gets everything set up. He looks up when Addison walks out. She had the towel wrapped around her chest and wore a pair of yoga pants. She sits down on the nearest bed. Silence settles over them as he sterilizes the needle.

Slowly, Addison reveals four long scratches on her back. They started on her left shoulder before going down her back. She clutches the towel and looks at him over her shoulder. "I think the ones on my back ripped."

"What happened," Sam asks, pouring whiskey on the cuts.

Addison hisses. "Dragon. It tried to steal my necklace."

He eyes the gold cross that she always wore. "Seems like you won."

"Only because vampires smelled my blood and showed up thinking that I was already dead."

Sam frowns. "Wait, where was Dean?"

"We got separated. It was really dark. We would take turns keeping watch while the other tried to get some rest. I went behind a tree to use the bathroom. There was a noise and I ran back to where Dean was. Except he wasn't there. And I went to go find him. Damn shapeshifter. Apparently, they had been following us for a while and jumped at the chance to take us out."

A silence settles over them as he finishes the stitches. Knowing that he wasn't getting any more sleep, Sam grabs his laptop and starts looking for a case. Addison, after exchanging the towel for a sweatshirt, climbs under the covers and curls up with a book.