Chapter Two

Virtue, Iowa.

A typical Midwestern town where life revolved around the farms that surrounded it, the weather and Monday Night Football. Small town life the way it was in a Hallmark movie. Safe, familiar and where the worse thing to happen was the local snowplow breaking down.

Today that way of life had come to a standstill and everyone's focus was on the local diner where a small crowd had gathered, whispering among themselves, wondering how something like this could happen in their town. Only an hour or so before the residents of Virtue had been going about their business when the sound of screaming had shattered the familiarity of the morning routine.

A body had been found. Murdered. Mutilated. Blood everywhere.

At least that what they said.

The whispers fell silent as a gurney loaded with a black body bag rolled out through the door. Some of the onlookers turned their heads away, averting their eyes, not wanting to see yet knowing that the image would fill their nightmares for many nights to come. Others found themselves riveted to the scene, unable to take to look away.

"Well that looks like our signal that something's wrong on the Hellmouth," said Dean as he sat in the driver's seat his arm resting along the edge of the open window.

Pulling his attention away from the crowd, his back leaning against the Impala's passenger door Sam was surprised and amused by his brother's words. "The Hellmouth? Seriously?"

"Gotta love a woman who knows how to kick ass."

"Yeah, and the fact that she's hot has nothing to do with it," countered Sam, pleased to see his brother in a good mood.

Going to the Oktoberfest had been a good thing after all, they had solved an old fashioned case and Dean had gotten the girl. Things felt a little more back on track to being normal, or at least as normal as it could be for them. Of course deep down Sam knew that they weren't, that things between them hadn't really been resolved, but for now it was nice to pretend.

Dean smirked. "It does help."

Returning his brother's grin Sam focused once again on the diner. "So, dead body?"

"Sounds like our calling card."

"Mmm, what do you think? Demons? Vampires?"

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched in a half smile at the sight of two men in uniform coming out of the diner. "Aren't they always. Only way to find out for sure is to ask some questions."

SPN*SPN*SPN

Heading towards the diner, Dean and Sam took in as much as they could, skimming over their surroundings, searching for anything that seemed out of place. Details were important, something that years of hunting had both taught them. Overlooking something could be dangerous, not only for themselves but for others also. This time though nothing leapt out as being off and their attention shifted to the two men standing out in front of the diner.

The Sheriff looked liked a man use to the outdoors; tanned and wiry with windswept brown hair that seemed just a little too long for someone in his line of work. He didn't look like a man who belonged behind a desk. The Deputy though

looked like he had just lost this morning's breakfast and was struggling to keep down whatever else he had left in his stomach, going by the sickly pallor of his skin and the beads of sweat running down his forehead.

SPN*SPN*SPN

Sheriff Jack Barrett was aware of them even before they had gotten out of their car. The car alone had drawn his attention and had stayed on it and the two men seated within the moment he had stepped out into the cool fall morning. He knew everyone in this town, if not personally at least by sight and name. These two were strangers, but not ordinary strangers. They were not thrill seekers coming to witness the gory scene. No these boys moved like professionals; they had an edge about them, a wariness that came from truly knowing what kind of terrible things existed in this world.

As they came closer he carried on talking to his Deputy, his voice low but firm, refusing to acknowledge their presence. He would talk to them when he was ready and not a moment sooner; investigating Amy's murder was far more important.

He held back a sigh, feeling weary and worn with the responsibility now thrust upon him.

Seeing Amy like that had shaken him deeply, though no one would know that from looking at him. Composure was the name of the game and he was a master at it, even in situations like this. He had seen his fair share of bodies but they were usually a result of natural causes or accidents. Murders on the other hand were rare in Virtue. In his twenty odd years as Sheriff he had only come across two. Today he had added his third. It was not a statistic he wanted increased.

As much as the two men tried to hide their impatience at being ignored, it radiated from them in silent waves. Barrett let them wait a couple of minutes longer before he finally turned to them. "What can I do for you boys?"

Simultaneously reaching down to their back pockets, the two men pulled out their wallets, flicking them open.

"US Marshall's. Ritchie Blackmore. This here's Phil Campbell." Dean gave a toss of his head in Sam's direction.

Glancing at their wallets Barrett couldn't help thinking that this was the last thing he needed, first a murder, now two Marshall's. Putting his irritation aside at their announcement, he kept his face a mask of neutrality; a look that had served him well in his role as Sheriff.

"Sheriff Barrett. Well, whatever it is you boys need right now it's gonna have to wait awhile. We've got a dead body on our hands, in case you haven't noticed."

Dean pocketed his wallet, seemingly not fazed by the trace of sarcasm in the Sheriff's voice. "Actually we might be able to help."

"Oh?" Barrett raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help but be just a little curious though he was skeptical that they could really provide any insight. Hunting and apprehending fugitives were Marshall's thing, investigating murder cases didn't fall into their jurisdiction, at least not usually.

"We've got experience in cases like this."

Barrett, expression once again stoic, looked at the taller one who had spoken this time.

The tall one didn't seem perturbed by his stare, taking it all in his stride. "We've dealt with murders before. Brutal one's in fact. I think we can help."

"What my partner is trying to say is that we've seen some pretty sick shit in our time. We know about killers, all kinds of killers. There's pretty much nothing we haven't seen but if you're not interested…"

Barrett admired their bluntness; their confidence though was less appealing. "Cocky sons of bitches aren't you."

He locked eyes with Dean who met his gaze with equal force. The seconds ticked by as the two men remained as they were, neither one breaking eye contact as they summed each other up.

Barrett needed them to know that this was his territory, that he was in charge. He wasn't stupid though; their offer was an intriguing one and deep down he could use the help, a fresh set of eyes and instincts that were more objective than his own. He couldn't risk his feelings getting in the way of finding Amy's killer.

"Okay then, let's see what you make of this one."

Barrett turned to his Deputy, "Dave, why don't you sit this one out. Go and make yourself useful and get Otis to give you a statement. Try and calm down Jenny while you're at it."

With the color slowly coming back to his face, the Deputy headed towards a large burly looking man and a distressed looking woman.

"And for God's sake try not to puke anymore near the crime scene," called out Barrett to his retreating back, frustration at how the day was playing out seeping through. With a quick glance at the Marshall's he turned, heading to the diner.

"First dead body?" asked Dean as they followed him.

"Not for me, but for him, yeah. I've seen some things in my day but never anything like this. Blood everywhere. She was... well, you'll see what I mean."

SPN*SPN*SPN

Walking in the smell hit them first. Vomit. Fresh and rank. The remains of the Deputy's breakfast now part of the crime scene. As their nostrils quickly adjusted to the shock of it another smell became more noticeable; metallic, like rusted metal and raw meat seeping through the air all around them. It was a smell that all three men recognized.

Blood.

The Sheriff had been right when he had said that it was everywhere. A slaughterhouse was the first thing that popped into Dean's mind. Blood pooled and smeared across the surface of floor as if something had been dragged across it. More blood was splattered about. Streaks of it along the counter, several handful of flecks scattered upon one of the booths. Even the walls had streaks and spots marring their pristine surface. Everywhere they looked it was there, a brilliant dark red, thick and sticky, the stench sharp. It was in stark contrast to the rest of the diner which looked as if it had been scrubbed clean.

Carefully avoiding the mess, Dean made his way over to the largest area of blood, crouching down.

From a distance Barrett observed them. "You don't look like Marshall's."

"Yeah, we get that a lot," said Dean, bringing his hand up as he rubbed two fingers together, smearing the blood to take a sniff. No sign of sulfur and none near the body either which meant no demons; that was a good thing at least. Further away from where he crouched was a trail of blood heading in the direction of the kitchen. Interesting.

Sam, who had been quietly checking out the rest of the room, came over. "Was anyone else hurt?"

Barrett joined them, looking down at the path of red. "No. You think she managed to hurt her attacker?"

Sam and Dean looked around at all the blood, thinking the same thing. The murder had been quick, violent and brutal, the victim bleeding out fast. It was doubtful that she would have had time to do anything, much less injure her attacker.

"It's possible," said Sam.

"No," said Dean, his voice echoing in time with Sam's.

The brothers glanced at each other in slight annoyance before Dean carried on towards the back, pushing the door open; Sam and Barrett following close behind.

Like it was in the front everything in the kitchen shone with cleanliness. It was neat and orderly with no sign of any of the carnage that was out in front. Everything appeared normal except for one thing. There was water everywhere, the floor covered with it, a shiny translucent mass that almost seemed alive as it swam across the black and white checkered surface.

Without hesitation Dean went over to the sink, his boots squelching in the water as he moved. Carefully avoiding the flow of water that was running down the front of the sink he turned off the tap. "Looks like someone left in a hurry."

"So the victim wasn't on her own…"

Barrett's voice was low as he cut Sam off. "Amy. Her name was Amy."

"Amy. Sorry."

Barrett's comment made Sam aware of how much he had changed over the years since Jessica's death. The thought was not a pleasing one. When had he stopped thinking of them as people? So many bodies over so many years. It was beginning to take its toll this life he led.

Barrett gave him a curt nod. "That's okay."

"It would've been pretty fast. Killer went straight for a main artery going by the amount of blood loss."

As always Dean stuck to the facts. Which was handy at times but there was the odd occasion when a little sensitivity wouldn't go amiss. Tact was definitely not one of Dean's strengths.

"So who else was working at the diner last night?" asked Sam.