Sam had been waiting in their second-floor room at Martha's bed-and-breakfast for close to fifteen minutes before Dean came trudging in with a frustrated expression.

Sam had hoped Dean would have better luck with his search at the library, but the first words out of his mouth were, "Dude, I hope you had better luck than I did, because I found jack. No church grounds, burial grounds, roadways, or mysterious deaths. If there's anything historically freaky in those woods, it's not on record."

Sam shook his head disappointedly, his hopes dashed. "Well, all I can tell you is what it's not," Sam offered up meagerly.

"And what's that?" Dean asked, leaning casually against the room's small dresser.

"It's not a werewolf," Sam refuted. He went on to relate what he'd learned from Jim Hastings, "Whatever this is, I don't think it started with Tom. Hastings said there've been animal killings at outlying farms nearly every week."

Dean frowned thoughtfully at the new information. "Are we sure they're related?"

"Maybe not," Sam relented to the possibility, "but if not, it's one hell of a coincidence. The locals are attributing it to the killer bobcats, but…" Sam trailed off. They both knew if it were as simple as wild animal attacks, they wouldn't be there.

Dean nodded, piecing things together, "Okay, so not a werewolf and probably not a black dog either. Where does that leave us?"

"Back at square one?" Sam guessed, throwing his arms up in aggravation.

"We've worked situations with less information before," Dean said. He rubbed his jaw with a considering expression for a moment before asking, "Where are most of these killings taking place?"

Sam glanced at Dean. "Edge of the forest, mostly near the northern part of town."

"So we don't know what it is," Dean said, an idea forming.

Sam caught on to what Dean was thinking. "But we know where it might be."

Dean shrugged slightly. "It's not an ideal situation, walking into this blind, but at the moment it's the most we've got."

Sam scoffed. "So we're just going to load up a couple of shotguns and traipse around the forest hoping we find this thing?"

Dean took offense at Sam's incredulous tone and glared at him. "Do you have a better idea? I didn't say it was a great plan, but it's the best we've got right now. I don't intend to let anyone else die in this town." Dean pulled away from the dresser and moved to look out the bedroom window.

For Dean, the family monster hunting business had become more about protecting people, whereas, for Sam and their father, revenge was usually closer to first rather than a trailing second. However, after talking with Jim, it was definitely something Sam could get on board with.

Sam conceded Dean's point and returned to puzzling out the logistics of how to hunt this thing. "We'll have to think of something to tell Xander."

Dean looked over his shoulder at him with a sly expression. "Actually, Xander and Avery are looking pretty cozy. Maybe we'll be lucky and the kid will actually have a date with her."

Sam moved to where Dean was standing and peered out the window. True enough, he could see Xander and Avery below, standing together on the sidewalk looking engrossed in conversation. Sam quirked a smile. "It would make things a little easier if he was distracted. Our handyman excuse is looking a little thin, and I don't know how much longer he'll buy it."

"Well, with any luck we'll track this thing down tonight and kill it, and then tomorrow we can get back on the road," Dean said with a carefree grin.

Dean's optimism aside, Sam could only hope things would work out so well. Because in reality, they rarely ever did.

*****

"So here we are." Avery waved toward the two-story house. "Martha's bed-and-breakfast. I think you've seen everything in town now."

Xander shuffled anxiously on the sidewalk not really wanting their time together to come to an end. Xander had thought she was pretty the moment he saw her, found her to be quite funny as he talked to her, and as they'd gone about their tour he'd also found that they had a shared geekiness. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt such a connection with a girl who wasn't a friend and strictly hands-off, like Willow. Granted every time he had before it had ended badly, but he hoped that being thousands of miles away from the Hellmouth might put a refreshing spin on dating.

"I think maybe we wore Spot out," Xander told Avery, looking down at the warm bundle of fur in his arms. Spot had eventually tired out his puppy stamina and was now sleeping peacefully in the crook of Xander's arm. Xander gently rubbed a hand over the puppy as he continued to doze.

"Guess it was too much excitement for one day," Avery commented. She shifted somewhat nervously as well, and Xander hoped it was because she was as reluctant to separate as he was.

"Hey, Xander," Avery's words came out suddenly and urgently, and a blush shaded her face.

"Yeah?" Xander asked, feeling just as urgent.

Avery looked down at her feet, her next words coming out a bit mumbled, "I was thinking…" She paused, then looked up at him resolutely and asked in a more confident voice, "Would like to go to a movie with me tonight?"

Xander had a brief moment where he thought he might swallow his tongue, but he managed to get his answer out around his wide grin, "Sounds like an excellent idea."

Avery smiled brilliantly, and Xander had to put forth some effort not to twitter like some schoolgirl at the sight.

"Great!" Avery returned, her eyes flashing excitedly. "I've got a few things I've got to take care of at home, but how about I meet you back here at…say, seven?"

Xander nodded his head repeatedly with a smile that he thought might be stuck on him for the rest of the week. "I'll be waiting."

Avery smiled back, shyly tucking her hair behind an ear, "Well, I'll see you later then." She stared at him a beat longer before turning and starting down the side walk.

Xander stared blissfully after her. Spot, having been forgotten in the excitement, took this opportunity to stir in Xander's arms and paw playfully at his shirt, reminding the man of his presence. "Hey, Avery, wait," Xander called.

Avery turned and quickly moved back toward him. "Yeah?" she asked somewhat breathlessly with bright eyes.

Xander gestured to the squirming, tail-wagging pup. "I think you forgot someone."

Avery blushed embarrassedly. "Oh, right."

Xander held Spot out to her, causing the dog to yelp at the sudden loss of contact with Xander's solid chest as his short legs fought for sturdier purchase. The spotted dog whimpered as he was exchanged from Xander's hands to Avery's, and his tail-end twisted furtively making his black ears flop about. Then Avery pulled him close to her chest, and he stilled again, tucking his tail underneath himself.

"So I'll see you at seven?" Xander reiterated, double-checking that he hadn't imagined the upcoming date.

"Definitely," Avery affirmed.

They shared a smile before Avery turned and once again headed for home. Xander's eyes trailed after her again for a moment until finally he turned and made his way into the bed-and-breakfast.

The moment Xander entered the door he was greeted by a short, plump, middle-aged woman with pink sponge-rollers in her hair and a wide, bubbly smile.

"Well, hello. And what can I do for you?" she asked in a squeaky voice that matched her bubbly grin.

Xander smiled back despite himself. "Maybe you could help me find some people? Two guys came here to—"

"You must be Xander," the woman stated, moving out from behind the counter where she'd been seated. "I'm Martha," she introduced herself.

"Pleased to meet you," Xander said politely and shook the offered hand. "So I take it they are here?" he asked again.

"Oh, sure, they're here. Such nice young men too." She smoothed down the blue-flowered moo-moo she wore. "And that Dean…such a charmer."

Xander had to forcefully swallow the chuckle that rose in his throat. "That sounds like Dean. I, uh, don't suppose you could point me to their room?"

"Why sure!" she exclaimed happily, bouncing eagerly past him and up the stairs in her fuzzy, purple slippers.

Xander trailed after her with a wry shake of his head. They went up a spiral, wooden staircase, turned left when they reached the landing, and then headed for the door at the end of the hall.

When they reached the door, Martha knocked lightly, inching inward so that her body was nearly pressed against the door. Xander worried that she might fall through when the door was pulled open by Dean seconds later, but she managed to maintain her balance despite what the laws of gravity might dictate.

Dean on the other hand looked like he'd opened the door expecting the mail man and found a trick-or-treater instead.

"Hi, Dean," Martha drawled girlishly, and Xander imagined she was probably batting her eyelashes at the older man.

"Missus Jennings," Dean said back with a tight smile.

Martha attempted to wedge herself further in the doorway as she scolded Dean playfully, "Now, Dean, you know I'm not married. And I've told you to call me Martha."

"Right." Dean faked a chuckle as though her suggestion had merely slipped his mind. He pinned Xander with an accusatory look as if this was all somehow his fault. Xander just shrugged in reply.

"How are you boys liking the room? Anything else I can get for you?" she leaned closer to Dean, and it looked like it took all of Dean's restraint not to lean away.

"Actually, sweetheart," Dean pasted on a charming smile despite the 'fight or flight' panic in his eyes, "the room is perfect. Couldn't think of single thing to improve it."

Martha practically twittered at the praise, and even Xander was impressed with Dean's ability to charm with such ease, even in a situation where he clearly wanted an out.

"I'd also like to thank you for bringing Xander in," Dean gestured to the younger man as if he were some sort of errant child who'd wandered off unattended.

Xander was completely caught off guard when Dean's arm shot out, and the older man fisted a hand in his shirt and jerked him into the room (which was quite a feat considering how Martha was doing her best to monopolize the doorway).

"It was no trouble at all," Martha replied, taking Dean's thanks to heart. Her eyes now had a dreamy, star-struck quality to them.

"We should probably let you get back to work; keeping this place as nice as you do probably keeps you busy," Dean tried to persuade her.

She looked reluctant to leave the doorway, her fuzzy-slippered feet shuffling on the hardwood floor. "Well, you just be sure to let me know if there's anything else I can…do for you," she finished, sending a sly grin in Dean's direction.

Xander hoped he was just imagining the suggestiveness in her voice. It would be easy to laugh at Dean's expense, but after Xander's brief encounter with Miss Landry in the grocery store, he felt a great deal of empathy toward his brother. Xander didn't think he'd ever met so many desperate women in the course of one day (with the exception of that day involving his love spell gone-wrong back in junior year), and he absently wondered if maybe there was something in the local water supply.

"You know we will." Dean grinned, his voice dripping with insincerity that seemed to be lost on Martha.

She gave him a toothy grin and turned to go. She was barely half a step away from the doorway before Dean was hurriedly swinging the door shut behind her. He put his back to the door, leaning heavily against it as though he'd narrowly escaped a close encounter of the demonic kind.

"Looks like I missed a lot," Xander pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"Just Dean making a new friend." Sam laughed.

Dean sent an un-amused glare toward Sam who was seated on one of the beds close to the far wall.

Sam was unaffected by Dean's glare, finding too much humor in his brother's predicament to pass up some good ribbing, "Pastor Jim always said your way with the ladies would get you into trouble one day."

Dean's expression turned to one of smug satisfaction and he shrugged. "Well, what can I say? Sometimes it's a burden being God's gift to women." Ignoring Sam and Xander's snorts of disbelief, Dean added, "Not that either one of you two would know anything about that. We can't all be perfect."

Xander spotted his bag next to the far wall then, which had apparently been brought up by Dean or Sam at some point, and Xander waved a dismissive hand as he moved toward it. "Enough about Dean and his new girlfriend," he picked up his bag, unzipped it, and started dragging out various shirts, "because I have a date tonight."

Xander missed the relieved look that passed between the other two men as he tried to find a nice, date-worthy shirt that was still relatively clean.

"So, you finally asked her out?" Dean asked enthusiastically from somewhere behind him.

"Not exactly," Xander hedged, passing over his alien shirt and pulling out the remaining two shirts in the hopes that one of them would suffice. "She asked me out."

Dean had a chagrined look when Xander turned around. "Well, I suppose it's a start," Dean conceded.

Xander shrugged and held up the two shirts he'd managed to dig out. "Which do you think?" he asked Dean's opinion.

Dean stared blankly at the suggested clothing. "Oh, I've really got my work cut out for me."

"Don't listen to him, Xander," Sam consoled the younger man as he moved around the bed to get a better view of the shirts he was holding. "Dean's just jealous that he—" Sam stopped suddenly as he finally caught a glimpse of Xander's shirts. "Oh."

At the part-surprised, part-repulsed expression that stole across Sam's face, Xander tossed the shirts, one bright, lime-green colored and the other Hawaiian-print, onto the bed. He ran his hand through his thick, dark hair in frustration. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Let's not panic," Sam said immediately, trying to calm Xander some. "I mean…it's not that bad."

"What? Are you kidding?" Dean jumped in. He shook his head at the reprimanding look Sam gave him. "I don't know how either of you ever score any dates."

"I have better shirts," Xander said in a vain attempt to make his circumstances seem less pathetic. "It's just that these are the only clean ones I have left."

"Well if those two are the only options you have, you might be better off going with smelly," Dean said seriously, only managing to upset Xander more.

"You know, if you don't have anything helpful to say," Sam said pointedly to Dean.

"All right…all right," Dean laid off, holding his hands up in surrender. He moved to his own bag and started riffling through it. Eventually, he pulled out a simple dark-gray t-shirt, held it up to his nose, and then shrugged, apparently satisfied with its state of cleanness, and tossed it to Xander. "There. That should do."

Xander caught the shirt, glancing at it quickly before looking back up at Dean with an astounded expression. "That's your idea of improvement."

"Unless Avery's colorblind in which case I suppose it won't make much difference," Dean told him honestly. "Now am I going to have to give you a talk about the birds and the bees?"

Xander looked to Sam for assistance but the taller man's expression seemed to say you're on your own. Xander gave Dean a look implying that his sarcasm was not appreciated but decided to accept the shirt as the help in which it was intended. "Okay, I'm going to hit the shower. Avery's meeting me here at seven."

"Seven. Good time…just before dark," Dean stated obviously.

Xander and Sam both looked at Dean as though a couple of his screws had come loose.

Sam ignored Dean and turned to Xander. "There's a bathroom down the hall, and Martha gave us a cabinet-full of towels." Sam moved to the dresser where there really was a stack, nearly six-high, of towels. He pulled one off the top and handed it to the younger man.

"Just be sure you guys stay away from the forest," Dean recommended. "And don't stay out too late."

Xander gave him another weird look. "Anything else mom?"

"Yeah, but we can discuss protection later," Dean said imperiously.

Xander briefly looked scandalized, but then he decided he'd had enough of Dean's ribbing, and he hefted his bag to his shoulder and made his way toward the door, throwing over his shoulder as he did, "And if I see Martha in the hall, I'll be sure to let her know you're interested in a backrub."

He pulled the door shut on Dean's outraged cry and made his way down the hall to the bathroom with a gloating smile. After all, turn-about was fair play.

*****

"Shh!"

"Damnit, Sam, stop shushing me."

"I would if you'd quit talking," was Sam's whispered reply. "If you're so concerned about what Xander and Avery are doing on their date, maybe you should have gone with them to play chaperone."

"I'm not concerned," Dean shot back in an angry whisper of his own. "I'm just saying I hope he's making a good impression. I mean, if it's true that he's related to me, I can't have him making me look bad by association. I have a reputation to maintain. It's bad enough having you around."

"Whatever," Sam sighed in reply, letting the dig slide. "But we're not going to find this thing with all the noise you're making."

"Right, 'cause your big feet stomping around are so stealthy. And you know, creeping around like a couple of rabbits didn't help us find it the first hour we were looking for this thing, it doesn't seem to be working now either. Maybe a little noise is what we need."

"Right, because we want it to see us coming and completely screw any chance of surprise," Sam said sardonically.

"Well I didn't come out here for a nature hike." Dean gave an exasperated sigh and add under his breath, "Whose stupid idea was this anyway?"

"I believe it was your stupid idea," Sam replied to the muttered words that he probably wasn't meant to hear.

Dean jerked to an aggravated stop, causing Sam to turn around and look at him. "I didn't hear you offering up any better ideas," Dean bit out.

They'd been trudging through the forest for two tense hours without any sign of the creature, and their nerves were beyond frayed. Both men were armed with shotguns, and Dean had a machete latched to his belt in a sheath at his hip; but for all their preparedness, it seemed as if they weren't likely to see any action tonight.

"Damnit," Dean yelled in frustration.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face, gripping his shotgun tightly in his other hand, and leaned against a tree. "Maybe we should just call it a night," Sam suggested. He was tired and frustrated and getting more annoyed with the situation by the minute, and he knew Dean wasn't fairing much better.

"And then what?" Dean questioned, clearly opposed to Sam's idea of calling it quits.

"I don't know." Sam threw his arms up in angry frustration.

They were in the middle of God-forsaken-nowhere, looking for who-knew-what, and why? Because their father had sent them. And they hadn't seen any sign of him either. That pissed Sam off more than a little.

"Lives could be at stake here," Dean reminded him as if Sam wasn't already completely aware of that fact.

"I know that, Dean, but exactly what the hell are we supposed to do? It's not like Dad gave us a lot to go on."

Dean's face crinkled in confusion, like Sam's comment had come out of far-left field. "What exactly does Dad have to do with this?"

"Apparently nothing," Sam uttered angrily. "I think it's pretty obvious he's not here."

Dean groaned loudly. "Do we really have to do this now?"

"He's been missing for months, and the first time we hear from him he sends us on a job," Sam raised his voice, fury tingeing his words.

"So?" Dean shrugged, incomprehension written all over his face.

Sam was floored. "So? That's all you have to say?"

Dean shifted his shotgun to his other hand and dragged his right hand roughly through his hair. "What am I supposed to say, Sam? Dad sent here for a reason, and now we need to take care of this thing." He stated it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Some days the differences between the two brothers drove Sam right to the brink of madness. He simply could not understand how Dean could be so blind in his devotion to their father. And this was just another one of those instances.

"Dean, I know this may never have occurred to you before, but we don't always have to do what Dad says," Sam said like he was imparting some hard-learned wisdom. "In fact, maybe it would be better if we didn't."

Sam could tell from Dean's expression that his older brother wasn't really falling in with Sam's train of thought.

"Are you saying we should ditch this hunt?" Dean asked, disbelief apparent in his features.

"No." Sam conceded that they probably were needed here, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered why it was their problem. "Or maybe I am. I don't know. All I'm saying is that maybe we should re-think this. We don't know what's going on with Dad, and it's obvious he doesn't have any intention of clueing us in on it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't need our help. He could be in danger, and even if he isn't, damnit Dean, he shouldn't be shutting us out like this. We have just as much right to—"

"Sam!" Dean cut in sharply.

"No, Dean, I'm serious," Sam continued, not to be deterred. "Wherever Dad is, whatever's going on, we should—"

"Damnit, Sam, would you shut up for just a minute?" Dean bit out harshly in a low, rushed voice.

This time Sam heard the urgency in his brother's tone and noticed the tension in his stance and the way he was scanning the forest with a desperate alertness.

"Do you hear that?" Dean's voice held an undercurrent of worry.

Sam stilled, straining to hear what it was that had Dean troubled, but his ears couldn't pick out anything. That was when he understood. The forest, which should have been alive with the sound of crickets or small animals or wind or just something, was completely devoid of sound. The silence was so stifling it was like cotton balls had been stuffed in Sam's ears.

Sam only had a few seconds to ponder the change when a shrill, grating growl reverberated through the trees and shattered the silence.

"That's no bobcat," Sam breathed out quietly.

As if to confirm Sam's statement, there was a rustling noise about a dozen feet to their left in the same direction from which the growl had come, and in the dim light of the moon, they could see a fearsome creature emerge.

The monster looked reptilian in nature, moonlight glinting off slimy, dark-green skin, but it had an almost human-like structure. It stood on two legs; its torso was disproportionately larger than its lower body, and it hunched over so that its massive, scaly arms almost dragged the ground. On each hand was a set of four-inch, razor-sharp claws that could easily shred them to pieces with a few swipes.

Sam's heart thudded with a sudden surge of fear, and it was only his lifetime's experience of seeing the bizarre and grotesque that kept him from gasping out loud.

Dean was the first to react, bringing his shotgun up with quick reflexes and firing dead-on into the creature's chest.

The monster staggered backward with the impact but remained standing, and if the furious roar it gave was any indication, the shot had done little more than to anger the creature.

Instinct took over now, and in an unspoken agreement both brothers turned away and began to run as fast as they could in the opposite direction. The creature took to the chase, barreling through the trees behind them with unearthly speed, and it became readily apparent that they'd never be able to outrun it.

"We split up!" Dean yelled over the sound of their raucous escape and the demon's fierce howls.

"Wait, Dean," Sam started in protest, but his brother was already veering off in another direction. He tried to listen for the creature to hear which direction it may have followed in, but he could hear very little over his pounding heart and the blood rushing through his ears and the sound of brush snapping as he tore through the forest.

He looked off to his right, hoping to catch sight of Dean, but he couldn't see his brother through the dense woods. He wanted to look behind him but he couldn't risk losing his footing and giving the creature the easy opportunity it was no doubt hoping for.

He pushed his legs harder and forced himself to ignore the way his lungs had started to burn, letting his years of training take over and push him beyond the limits to which normal people were accustomed.

He was taken by surprise when something heavy collided with his back and sent his shotgun flying from his hands. The impact threw him forcefully to the ground, knocking the air out of his lungs in a painful wheeze, and then he could feel something sharp tearing through the clothing on his back and slicing deeply into his skin. If he hadn't just had the wind knocked out of him, he probably would have screamed.

He could feel the creature's fetid breath on the back of his neck now, and he clawed the ground trying desperately to pull himself out of the creature's grasp, but the creature merely dug its claws deeper into the flesh between his shoulder blades causing Sam to cry out pain.

Suddenly the creature's pain-filled roar joined Sam's own cry, and Sam found himself able to scramble out from under the creature's heavy weight. He turned just in time to see Dean pull his machete from the creature's back only to stab it again with as much force as he could muster. The demon screamed again, and Dean continued hacking at it until the creature went silent and still and Dean was covered in gooey, green gore.

Both Sam and Dean were breathing heavily by the time it was all done, and Dean looked as if he might get sick.

"Dude, that is disgusting," Dean choked out, waving a hand in front of his face. He immediately distanced himself from the creature and moved closer to Sam, eying his younger brother with careful attention. "Are you all right?"

Now that Dean was near him, Sam could smell the putrid scent of the demon's blood, and he had to agree with Dean's assessment that it really was disgusting.

Sam took stock of his injuries. His chest throbbed from the harsh landing, no doubt it would be bruised by tomorrow, and the cuts on his back still stung painfully, but he didn't think anything was broken or damaged to the point of needing a hospital visit.

"I think I'll be all right," Sam stated. He moved to stand and suddenly Dean was by his side helping to pull him to his feet. Sam leaned heavily on his brother for a moment and was again overcome by the rancid smell of the gore covering the older man. As soon Sam could stand on his own without toppling over, he moved away from Dean. "God, dude, you stink."

"Yeah, you're welcome," Dean returned humorlessly, looking down at himself and the filth that covered him. "No way am I going to be able to get these clean again. Good thing this isn't my favorite shirt."

Sam edged toward the creature Dean had just slain, moving closer with lingering trepidation. When he was close enough to touch it, he used his foot to flip the monster on its back and then leaned down to examine it.

"Have you ever seen anything like this?" Sam asked curiously.

Dean took a few steps closer, surveying the corpse with resentful distaste. "No," he answered, "and it doesn't look like anything I've ever heard about."

Sam looked to his brother. "So what do we do now?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, nonplussed.

"Well we can't just leave it here, can we?" Sam prompted.

Dean looked down at the creature again, disgust playing over his features anew. "I'm not dragging that's thing's carcass anywhere," he told Sam firmly. "And we didn't remember to bring any shovels. So I say we just leave it here, and let nature do its job.

"Besides, we need to get back and get you patched up before Xander gets back," Dean added.

Sam thought about protesting the logic in leaving the body behind for just anybody to find but was really too tired and in too much pain to care. His temporary adrenaline rush was quickly evaporating and all he could think about was getting back to their room, into bed, and pulling the covers over his head. "Yeah," he agreed and then turned to look his brother up and down in a repulsed manner, "and you really need a shower."

Dean stared at him for a moment with a put-out expression before gesturing with his goo-covered machete in the direction they would need to go. "Just start walking," he commanded.

They both gave a last glance to the rotting corpse at their feet before turning away, leaving the gruesome scene at their backs as they made their way out of the forest.

Next