Sam and Dean quickly sorted out their rooming situation and then split up to do their respective tasks. Not long after, Sam found Jim Hastings on a rickety wooden bench in an old, deserted park. Though it had probably once been an amusing playground for younger generations, the area had since been abandoned for arcades and other playgrounds with newer, more advanced toys. The old equipment was no longer what it had been. The swing set was without swings, the monkey bars rusted over, the merry-go-round gave a metallic shriek whenever the wind gusted enough to move it. The park had an empty, haunted feel to it. Which Sam guessed was probably fitting considering who its only occupant was.

Sam lingered back just out of the man's line of sight, taking a moment to order his thoughts and consider how to handle the situation. Talking to people in the aftermath of tragedy was always a tricky business. Some people adamantly refused to talk about it and would make their feelings well-known by lashing out at any who dared to ask. Others held the emotions in so long that when they were asked, the words would come spilling out as though some floodgate had been let loose. Confessing their pain to a stranger was a way to exorcise their personal demons, remember loved ones lost, or sometimes just begin the long journey on the path to recovery.

Each person was different and required a delicate approach, and as Sam began making his way toward the man, he could only hope things wouldn't blow up in his face. Especially since other lives could be on the line.

As he got closer, Sam was able to get his first good look at Jim. He was a tall, sturdy man, still fit and healthy-looking despite the silver hair that could be seen under his wide-brimmed fisherman's hat. He wore an old pair of denim overalls that were well-worn in the knees and a faded-plaid, button-down shirt. Though he still looked physically robust for his age, there was something fragile about him, a weariness that was more than just the weight of years.

Sam slowly approached the man with his hands jammed in his jeans' pockets and an attempted casual air. When he reached the bench, he asked politely, "Mind if I sit with you?"

The man cocked his head toward Sam, raised an eyebrow, and replied wryly in a warm baritone, "Son, if you think this old bench can hold the weight of us both, then you're more than welcome to sit down."

At his response, Sam eyed the worn bench. The wood was water-stained, cracked, and rotted in some places…and there was a fairly good chance that it wouldn't hold both their weights. But Sam wasn't one to give up easily, so he gingerly sat down next to Jim. The bench creaked ominously but didn't break.

"Well, would you look at that," Jim commented dryly.

"Guess it's my lucky day," Sam joked.

"Better mark the calendar; days like this don't come around often," Jim said stoically.

Thinking that things were off to a good start, Sam tried to keep the conversation going. "I'm new in town, and I-"

"You don't say?" Jim cut in sardonically.

"Um…" Sam stumbled, momentarily taken aback.

Jim waved off his awkwardness. "It's a small town. Besides, I saw you guys when you came into the diner."

"Oh…right," Sam said and then tried to figure out what to say next. "It's just, um…you're Jim Hastings right?"

Jim turned to him with raised eyebrows and a mock-impressed expression. "Not even here a day and already you know people." He turned his gaze back to the empty playground. "Must really be a small town."

So much for that good start, Sam thought, but he had to give the guy some credit for his dry sense of humor. The only problem was that it made it difficult to get a grasp on the man's demeanor. He was a little cynical, but still approachable…but that could all change with his next question.

"I don't mean to pry or anything—"

"Son," Jim stopped him again before he could even get the question out, "when you start off with a phrase like 'I don't mean to pry,' it tips a person off that that's exactly what you intend to do."

Sam gave a nervous laugh. "I guess you're right."

Jim gave him a look that seemed to say 'well, of course I am.' Sam stalled, unsure if Jim had meant for him to continue or not, and an uneasy silence fell between.

Jim broke the silence first, "But then, I guess if you never get around to asking I won't have to worry about my privacy being intruded upon."

Sam frowned. He was able to detect amusement in the man's voice, but that didn't necessarily mean Jim was joking. Sam continued to watch the man, trying to gauge the seriousness of his previous statement, and was very nearly staring Jim down.

Finally Jim seemed to get fed-up with Sam's scrutiny, and he gave an aggravated huff, pinned Sam with clear blue eyes, and said, "For God's sake, son, if you've got something on your mind, just say it."

Sam ducked his head, embarrassed at how awkwardly the conversation seemed to be going. If he had known he was going to handle it so well, he'd have forced Dean to trade tasks with him. "It's just…" Sam paused. Originally he had intended to work his way up to talking about Tom, but Jim didn't seem like the type of guy to fall for any bullshit. He met Jim's eyes again. "It's about your friend that died. Tom?"

Jim's face instantly closed off and he tensed up, turning his gaze to the ground at his feet. "You some kind of reporter or something?" Jim bit out harshly.

"No, sir." Sam tried to shift around on the bench, but stopped suddenly when the bench creaked and tried to shift with him. "It's just…I'm here with my brother, well, brothers actually. We sort of have this…job to do. I just want to make sure it's not dangerous here. I don't mean to bring up a painful subject, 'cause, believe me, I know what it's like to lose someone you care about, I just-" Sam stopped his nervous rambling when Jim turned sharply and regarded him with a hard, piercing look.

Empathy was always a tricky card to play. No matter how similar the situations, people were rarely able to believe that anyone could understand the kind of pain they were going through. Sam waited for the inevitable denial, for the demand that he mind his own business, but it never came. Jim looked at him long and hard, and Sam tried to look as sincere as possible. Jim must have seen the truth in Sam's eyes, or maybe just saw a reflection of his own pain, because his face gradually softened, and he said, "I wish for your sake that you didn't."

Jim's eyes drifted back over the park as he continued, "At my age, you start expecting to lose the people close to you. It's just a fact of getting old…a fact of life. You're too young to have to know what that's like. It's a damn shame."

The man's heartfelt words took Sam by surprise, and he felt his throat constrict. Jim sagged against the tired bench, and neither of them said anything else for several minutes. Sam was beginning to think he should just go when Jim finally spoke again, "Tom never liked coming here. I mean…when we were kids.

"Even when we were just boys, he was never happy unless he was knee-deep in water." A reminiscent smile stole over his features, and his eyes took on a faraway look. "He loved to fish so much that sometimes I thought he was part-fish himself. And the truth is," Jim chuckled, "I never really liked fishing much. As an only child, I wished for a brother through all my early years. When I started school and met Tom…I stopped wishing for one. You may not know it looking at me now, but back then I was a bit of a runt. Tom, on the other hand, was one of the biggest boys in the class. He looked out for me then…he was always looking out for me I suppose. He may not have been a brother by blood, but he filled all the other requirements, nonetheless. Spending my Saturdays at the creek seemed a small price to pay.

"I was supposed to meet him at the creek that morning." The wistful expression slid from Jim's face, replaced by something more grim and haunted. "Actually, we would meet there most every morning. Tom always got there first, before the sun even started to show. I could never quite make it out of bed till the sun started peeking over the edge of the earth. But Tom, he never wanted to waste a bit of daylight.

"I followed the same path I take every day, and as I was walking…I noticed something just out of the corner of my eye. I don't know what it was that made me look, I just…" Jim swallowed hard, and his next words came out quiet and shaky as he got caught in the grip of the ghastly memory. "My whole life, I'd never seen anything like that. It was like something had been trying to tear him apart. Honestly, I wouldn't even have recognized him but I…I just knew it was Tom. I don't know of anything that could have taken a man apart like that."

"The ranger service said they thought it was a bear or maybe rabid bobcat," Sam reminded.

Jim gave Sam a condescending look as though he had expected more intelligence from Sam. "I can tell you it wasn't a bear or a bobcat, even a rabid one. They're just saying that to cover their asses because they don't know what the hell it was either. But you can't tell people that; it would cause too much panic. Not to mention it sounds more than a little crazy. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes…" Jim trailed off, overcome by the memory again. Jim coughed, pulled the fisherman's hat off his head, and ran weathered fingers through his silver hair.

"What do you think it was?" Sam asked.

Jim returned the hat to his head, "I don't know, but I don't think it was anything natural. Call me a crazy old fool if you like."

"I don't think you're crazy," Sam told him seriously.

Jim gave Sam a sideways glance and then shook his head. "I think I'd feel better if you did. I don't think this is the last time it will happen either."

Sam canted his head, "What makes you say that?"

"This thing…whatever it is…I think it’s the same thing that's been tearin' into the livestock of people who live on the outskirts of town. It started small with chickens and dogs and then it moved up and got a couple cows."

Sam looked surprised. "Why hasn't anyone mentioned this?"

Jim gave Sam another look that seemed to knock his intelligence and said, "Son…nobody gives a damn about chickens and cows except the folks losin' 'em."

"Right," Sam said, chastised and nodding. "Do you happen to know about how long this has been going on?"

"A few months," Jim guessed. "There's been something missing or slaughtered nearly every week."

Every week…if Jim was right about the connection between that and Tom's death, then it couldn't be a werewolf. "Has all of this been happening around the same area?" Sam asked.

Jim thought about it. "Like I said, it's mostly people who live on the outskirts, near the woods. Mostly toward the northern end of town."

"This creek that you and Tom fished in…was it near the north part of town?"

"A little further south," Jim amended, "but not by much."

Sam's mind began puzzling out the information he was gathering. Their werewolf theory had been ruled out, and all the killings (if they really were connected) were a bit too widespread to fit with their black dog theory. Sam hoped Dean was having better luck with his search at the library.

"So those boys you were with earlier…they're your brothers?" Jim asked.

"Huh?" Sam replied absently, still distracted by his thoughts. "I mean, yeah. Well, Dean is anyway. Xander is too, I guess, it's just…he's new." Sam tried to explain.

"He's the youngest, I suppose?" Jim guessed. Sam nodded, and Jim added, "Still…looked a bit old to just now be adopting him."

Sam laughed. "No, he's not adopted. Technically, he's our half-brother, and we only just met him a few days ago. We didn't even know he existed before that."

"Hmm," Jim said noncommittally. "It's good that you boys are getting to know each other."

"Yeah," Sam agreed fully. "Not to mention it's been nice not having to put up with Dean by myself," he joked.

Jim smiled in return. "Must be quite a turnaround not to be the youngest anymore."

That gave Sam some pause because, to be honest, the thought hadn't even occurred to him yet. For the first time, Sam was in the shoes of the older brother. Did that make him responsible for Xander? The thought was a bit daunting. There was a moment, before they'd left, that Sam had been ready to tell Xander the truth about the supernatural and damn the consequences, but Dean had been the voice of reason, already instinctually protecting a brother that they'd only just met. It was more than Sam could claim for himself. And even though Sam and Dean had finally gotten to a stage where they both watched each other's backs, Dean was still more protective of Sam than Sam was of Dean. When they were growing up, Dean had probably been more of a father to Sam than John had.

"I think Dean is probably better suited to the 'big brother' role," Sam told Jim.

Jim gave him a knowing smile. "He's probably just had more practice. Give it time." Jim's expression turned dark. "Keep an eye on both of them while you're here. No matter what those rangers say, it's not safe here. You don't want to end up alone like—" the end of Jim's sentence was swallowed up before emotion could break his voice, but the sentiment was clear; Jim didn't want Sam to lose all his loved ones like he, himself, had.

Sam wished there were something he could say to the man to ease his pain, but as always in situations such as these, words were inadequate. Instead, Sam gave the only response he could think of. "I'll watch out for them," he promised seriously.

Jim nodded, taking what little reassurance from that statement as he could.

"I should probably check back in with them," Sam said though he was leery of leaving Jim here by himself. He stood anyway, and the bench made a groaning noise.

"Yeah, I should head home soon, too," Jim said. His expression turned wry again as he regarded the bench they'd been sitting on, and he added, "Before this bench gives out completely and lays me out flat on my ass."

Sam laughed out loud then added sincerely, "Take care of yourself, Mr. Hastings."

"It's Jim," the elderly man corrected. "And you take care of yourself too. And your brothers."

Sam left, feeling determined that he wouldn't let anything happen to either one of his brothers and hoping that Dean was able to dig up some information that could shed some light on what the hell was going on in the sleepy town of Waiverton.

*****

Xander had that slice of pie after all as he waited out the last ten minutes of Avery's shift. Avery had offered it to him on the house, but Ned quickly slapped that idea down with an angry yell from the kitchen. Avery had turned bright red, and Xander had said he didn't mind paying.

Xander finished his pie just as Avery came out of the back room, now wearing jeans and a dark blue tank top instead of her waitress uniform. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"Yep," Xander replied, jumping up out of his seat. They made their way to the exit, and Xander held the door open as Avery stepped outside. "Where to first?" Xander asked.

Avery gave a little gesture to the left, and they began walking that way. "Most of everything can be found on one street. This street, actually."

"The beauty of a small town," Xander replied knowingly.

"Are you from a small town too?" Avery asked.

"One of the smallest it seems like," Xander said. "At least as far as California goes."

"California, wow." Avery's eyes widened in surprise. "That's a long way from here."

"Yeah, and the ride seems twice as long when you're riding with Dean," Xander added.

Avery turned to look at him as they continued down the street. "How did you meet up with those guys anyway?"

"It's kind of an interesting story, actually. We're related," Xander said.

"Like you're cousins or something?" Avery asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"More like brothers," Xander explained. "Half-brothers really. I just met them a few days ago."

Avery's eyes got even wider, if possible. "Oh wow. How's that working out?"

"Good," Xander answered quickly without really considering the question. "Well, mostly. I mean…sometimes I'm not sure Dean actually likes me, but he did let me tag along, right?" Actually, Xander wondered if setting him up with Avery was just Dean's way of getting rid of Xander for a while. Xander had thought they'd been getting along, but maybe Dean found the younger man to be more of a nuisance than anything else and was regretting his decision to bring Xander along.

Avery didn't really know much about the situation but nodded her assent to Xander's question anyway. "What about Sam?"

"Sam seems like a cool guy," he informed her. Xander was quiet for a moment because he couldn't honestly say how Sam felt about him. Sam had never had as volatile a reaction as Dean had, but that didn't necessarily mean he was happy with the situation. "We haven't exactly bonded or anything, but I don't think he dislikes me," Xander ruled out.

Avery seemed to sense Xander's inner-turmoil. "It must be difficult, meeting family for the first time after all these years. There's so much that you've all missed out on. I can't imagine what it must be like."

The more Xander thought on it, the more surreal the situation became. Less than two weeks ago he'd been fighting for his life in Sunnydale High's courtyard, and now he was on the opposite side of the continent with two guys he barely knew. It was odd how battling a giant snake-demon seemed the more normal of the two.

Before Xander's thoughts could spiral completely into chaos, he turned the line of questioning toward Avery. "What about you? Do you have family here?"

Avery shook her head with a rather sad smile. "It's just me. My parents died when I was pretty young, so my grandma raised me. She passed on a few years ago."

Xander tried not to wince at the painful subject he'd inadvertently brought up. "I'm sorry."

Avery shrugged and smiled forgivingly. "I'm okay really. I also have some family in Ohio, but I've never really met them before."

"Maybe you can track them down sometime, like I did mine," Xander suggested brightly. "It's working out okay for me, so far."

"Hey, that's not a bad idea," Avery returned happily, and Xander was gratified to see that the sadness in her smile had lessened. "Maybe you'll inspire me to seek out my own family reunion. And I've always wanted to travel."

"There ya go," Xander gestured with a hand. "It's like a two-for-one special."

They walked on for a few more paces, and Avery spoke again, "You know, I've just realized I'm being a bit remiss in my tour-guide duties. So I should point out that if you look to your left here, you'll see Robbie's antique shop, which also houses the town's largest salt-and-pepper shaker collection." After a beat, she added thoughtfully, "Possibly even the largest in the world."

"You've gotta wonder what anyone would do with that much salt and pepper," Xander stated with a hint of amusement.

Avery pretended to seriously consider it for a moment. "Achieve the Guinness Record for highest cholesterol?"

"Only if they didn't keel over first," Xander pointed out. "Talk about a risky competition."

Avery giggled, bringing a grin to Xander's face.

Avery waved to the next establishment in line. "And now I'll bring your attention to our one-screen theater. It's probably the most happening place in town…mostly because it's the only happening place in town." For a moment it looked like Avery was going to say something else, her features scrunching up in a nervous sort of expression, but she quickly cast it off in favor of saying, "We can cross over here." She gestured to the white-painted street-crossing. "There's not really much else to see past this point."

They crossed to the opposite side of the street, swung a right, and began heading in the direction they'd originally come from.

"Oh, Xander, look," Avery lightly tugged on his arm, pulling him to the window of the grocery store. "Aren't they cute?"

On the other side of the glass, in a cardboard box that had 'free' written on its side in magic marker, was a litter of Dalmatian puppies. Avery kneeled down and pressed her face closer to the glass.

She turned back to look at him, a cheerful gleam in her eyes. "I have a dog," she told him. "His name is Razor." Xander made a face at the thought of how a dog might garner such a name, and Avery must have noticed because she hastened to explain, "He's really a total softie; a complete teddy bear. He just has this naughty habit of chewing through the furniture." She turned back to the puppies. "I think maybe it's just because he's lonely. I've been thinking another pet might be good for him. You know, so he's got someone to play with?"

"Well, you're not likely to get a better offer than free," Xander pointed out helpfully.

Avery stood. "You're right! One should never turn down a free offer without good reason. Do you mind?" Avery asked, nodding her head in the direction of the door.

"Not at all," Xander said. He certainly didn't mind putting their tour on hold for some puppy shopping.

Xander pulled open the heavy glass door, and as the two entered they were greeted by the owner who was lingering behind a cash register. "Good afternoon, Avery."

"Good afternoon, Mister Taylor," Avery returned, earning her a fatherly smile from the middle-aged man. She motioned to her companion. "This is Xander."

"Hello, sir," Xander gave his own greeting, accompanied by a half-wave.

"Sir," Taylor echoed, chuckling good-humoredly. "You kids make me feel old." Though Taylor's hair was sprinkled with gray and thinning slightly, his eyes still held a spark of youth.

"I'm just showing Xander, here, around town," Avery explained.

"Oh, did you just move here?" Taylor asked, giving Xander an interested look as he moved out from around the small check-out counter.

"Actually, I'm just visiting. I'm here with my family." Xander was surprised by how easily 'family' had rolled off his tongue. It had been quite some time since Xander had been able to apply the word 'family' to any of his blood relatives without the words 'dysfunctional' or 'alcoholic' directly preceding it. And it had been even longer since he'd been on a 'family outing', if a road trip could be called an outing.

The last time he could remember had been a Fourth of July barbeque at the park when he was nine. Tony, drunk as usual, had unintentionally set the hamburgers aflame after which his mother attempted to put out the flames with Tony's beer, succeeding only in exacerbating the problem. Tony had then yelled at her in front of all the other park-goers for her having wasted his beer.

His most recent picnic experience with Buffy and Willow had been a far better experience, even counting the mid-picnic demon attack and post-picnic demon burial.

That Xander had so readily applied the word 'family' to his newfound brothers indicated just how much they were affecting him.

"We wanted to take a look at the puppies," Avery said to Taylor, dragging Xander's attention back to the present.

"Sure, go ahead," Taylor agreed happily.

Avery made her way over to the box of puppies, crouched down, and immediately scooped up one of the spotted pups. She stood and turned back around to face the two men. "Aw, Xander, look. Isn't she cute?"

"As a button," Xander agreed.

"I've been trying to convince Jeanie to keep one," Taylor put in, "but after what happened to Leo and Gemini…" he trailed off, shaking his head regretfully.

"What happened?" Xander asked.

"Well, Jeanie and her husband, Craig, live on the outskirts of town, and we've been having a lot of problems with bobcats lately," Taylor started. "One of 'em got to the dogs, and there wasn't much left. Jeanie was a mess about the whole thing. It won't be the same not seeing them walking those two dogs everywhere."

"Poor girl," Avery murmured, petting the puppy in her arms consolingly. "Losing both your parents like that."

"Mister Taylor," a shrill voice rang out, and shortly after a much older woman with gray hair pulled back in a tight bun appeared from behind a shelf. "I insist you return the pasta to its rightful aisle."

Taylor cringed as though his day had just taken a swan-dive into a pool of sewage. "Miss Landry, the pasta is exactly where it's always been."

Miss Landry harrumphed loudly, but her expression warmed when she saw Xander and Avery. "Avery dear, how are you?" Before Avery could answer, Miss Landry's eyes slid over to Xander, taking on a predatory gleam, "And who is this strapping young man?"

The old woman looked at him like he was the canary to her cat, and Xander's eyes widened fearfully. He inched closer to Avery and wondered if hiding behind her would be construed as cowardice on his part.

Taylor noticed the by-play and, with a grimace of grudging self-sacrifice, stepped in to take the heat off Xander. "Miss Landry, why don't I show you where that pasta is?"

Miss Landry turned frosty eyes on him and lifted her nose in the air as she haughtily said, "I suppose it's the very least you do." Without waiting for him, she turned on her heel and stalked off down the aisle.

Taylor had the face of a man marching off to face a firing squad as he turned to follow her, and Xander gave him a grateful but pitying look.

Avery clutched the puppy in one arm and covered her mouth with her other hand in an attempt to stifle her giggles. "The look on your face," the muffled words came out between laughs.

"You laugh, but I seriously think she was planning to put me in her basket and cook me up for dinner," Xander protested, only serving to make Avery laugh harder.

"It's okay," she whispered, leaning toward Xander, close enough that he could smell her flowery perfume. "I think she has a crush on Mister Taylor."

"If that's how she treats people she likes, I hate to see how she treats the people she doesn't like." Xander shuddered to think of what the poor man must be enduring now.

Avery shook her head with a grin before turning around and kneeling to return the puppy to the box. She picked up another as Xander knelt next to her. "Oh, Xander, they're all so adorable. How can I pick just one?"

"Well, you could go the Walt Disney route and take them all," Xander reasoned. "Although you're going to have to find a lot more if you're ever going to make it to one hundred and one."

One of the puppies was trying to climb the side of the cardboard box to vie for their attention but was continuously getting pushed aside by the bigger puppies. Xander picked him up. "What about this guy?" The puppy stretched its neck so that it could lick Xander on the nose.

Avery eyed the pup, and her nose wrinkled up. "He's a bit of a runt, isn't he?"

"Hey," Xander objected. "Don't knock us underdogs. Occasionally we can surprise you."

Avery's face softened, and she looked at the puppy once more. "Well, he does look rather sweet." Avery put down the puppy she was holding and gently took the one from Xander's hands. The puppy seemed more timid in her hands, but Xander couldn't blame him for being shy around the ladies. Avery gave Xander a smile. "I definitely think he's a keeper."

Avery cradled the pup in her arms and moved to stand. Xander stood as well, casting an apprehensive glance toward the back of the store. "Do you think we should check on Mister Taylor?"

"Mister Taylor, this is positively the most appalling excuse for a tomato I've ever seen," filtered through from somewhere near the vegetable bins.

Xander winced. "On second thought, every man for himself, right?"

"Don't worry," Avery said, lightly bumping him with her shoulder as they moved toward the exit, "I'll protect you from flirty old ladies."

"Flirty? Try frightening," Xander corrected as they resumed the trek down the sidewalk.

"Oh come on," Avery laughed. "She wasn't really that bad."

"Yeah, you can laugh this off, your virtue wasn't at stake." Xander suddenly seemed to realize what he'd said, and blurted anxiously, "Not that mine was, because I'm not- I mean, I have-" Rather than continue to embarrass himself, Xander asked, "So what are you going to name this little guy?" He jerked a thumb toward their new four-legged friend.

"I don't know." She held the shivering puppy out from herself so she could look him over. "Any ideas?"

"How about Spot?" Xander threw out.

It was completely corny and clichéd, but Avery laughed anyway. "Yeah, I think that fits." She drew the newly-named Spot closer again, and the three ambled onward.

"So what haven't I seen yet?" Xander asked.

"Unsurprisingly, not much. The post office is just up ahead. Actually, I was thinking maybe you could hold Spot while I run in to check my mail?" Avery gave him a pleading smile.

"Of course." Xander smiled back. "Us boys will bond."

Avery handed over Spot and hurried into the post office.

Xander looked down at Spot, who was now doing his best to climb up his shirt. "Just between you and me," Xander confided, "Avery's pretty cute, huh?" Spot wagged his tail and looked back at him with dark, expressive eyes. Xander leaned in a little closer and whispered, "I think she likes me."

Spot's climbing brought him to Xander's shoulder, and he nuzzled a cold nose into Xander's ear. "Hey man, that tickles," Xander complained, trying to lean his head out of reach of the energetic puppy's tongue.

"Xander!" Avery came out of the post office and ran up to him. She waved around a small, brown-wrapped box. "I finally got it!"

Xander couldn't guess what it was, but it obviously had Avery excited to the point of near-giddiness. "Well open it up; let's see what the hubbub is all about."

Avery went about tearing off paper and ripping the tape off the cardboard box's flaps. She stuck her hand in, fished out the box's object, and proudly held it out for Xander to see.

He stared blankly at it as though waiting for the punch line. "It's a rock." It was indeed a rock, small with jagged edges in a glossy, red and pitch-black hue.

Avery flushed slightly with embarrassment. "I know it's really nerdy, but I like to collect rocks. This one is really rare, it's from…" she trailed off, blushing again. "You don't really care where it's from."

Xander attempted to alleviate whatever embarrassment she felt. "While I've never been an academic sort myself, I've been a lifelong best friend to one who is, and I can smile and nod with best of them. Not to mention, there are probably more than a few action figures in my closet back home."

Xander's words had the desired effect, and Avery's face lit up with a smile again. "Shall we continue our tour?" Xander asked, hanging on to Spot with one arm while holding out his other arm to Avery in old-fashioned gallantry.

"Yes, lets," Avery answered, slipping the black rock in her pocket and tucking her hand into the crook of Xander's arm.

"Oh, and um…you won't mention that whole action figure thing to Sam or Dean, will you?"

Avery chuckled. "Your secret is safe with me."

Next