Chapter One

The Winchesters

It was dark. Wasn't it always though? The back-road highway stretched out, seemingly endless, in Baby's headlights. An exasperated sigh came from the passenger seat, where Sammy was poring over the same stack of print outs for the hundredth time.

"What?" I asked, turning down the music.

"I just… I just don't get it man…" He heavy sighed again, and flipped over another paper.

"Get what?" I pressed.

"What this thing is…" he slapped the paper and scrubbed his hand over his face, trying to shake himself awake. God he looks tired.

"I mean, I don't think it's a demon… There aren't any signs, no cattle mutilation, failed crops…" he trailed off. "It's just, weird."

I blew out a long, heavy sigh. This thing was freaky, no doubt there. It had started as a routine werewolf extermination, but when we'd gotten to the Bay, the gruesome deaths told a different story… All the victims had had their hearts ripped out and their blood completely drained. Even more concerning: the body count was rising, and rising fast. It had started small, two deaths in San Francisco, but as it moved north the kill clusters got larger, five in Eugene, ten in Trinidad, another eight in Hood River, all killed the same way. God! What IS this thing?

"The only thing remotely demonic is the weather anomalies." Sam muttered, pulling me back to the present.

"Huh? What do you mean? I thought we decided this wasn't a demon."

Not taking his eyes off the printouts and the map he'd just pulled out, Sam kept talking, almost to himself, "Yeah, I don't think it's a demon, but every town this thing hits has a bout of un-seasonably nice weather before it kills."

"Yeah, that's why we're driving to friggin' Canada, in the winter, Sammy. Vancouver is having a heat wave!"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I know that. But, Dean, what about the victims?"

"What about 'em?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder.

"They're all involved in the occult, or some 'magic' shit. I mean, look at all of this:" he held up a police report, "the five deaths in Eugene? Three witches and two psychics… The ten in Trinidad? Six were part of a practicing coven,"

"Yeah, I remember, they were legit too. Grimoires, herbs and candles to boot, real Bewitched stuff." I joked, but seeing the 'death glare' he was aiming at me, I cleared my throat nervously, and flung my eyes back to the road. "So what though? The other four psychics had no connection with the coven. Hell, they didn't even know each other!" I waved my hand at the dashboard, getting pissed.

"They were self proclaimed psychics, Dean." Sam said softly, angling his head toward me.

"Yeah. 'Self-proclaimed', so what? Our demon has a type." And shrugged carelessly.

"Well, whatever it is definitely does, but demons also don't tend to spread their death toll out across International Borders… They're more small town, isolated incident types." I had to agree with that one.

Putting his stack of papers into the back seat, Sam sighed and threw his head back in exhaustion. "I just hope we get there in time, this thing moves fast." He shook his head, took one more look out the window, then closed his eyes and prayed for a nightmare free sleep.

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