Blame It on Bad Luck

"So get this," Sam says, accepting the beer from Dean with a nod. He pops it open and takes a sip before continuing. "I don't think we've got just one demon here."

Dean frowns at his over-sized younger brother, opening his own beer. He's wet, just out of the shower. He walks over and leans across the table to peer over Sam's shoulder to the thick stack of papers he's flipping through, but Sam waves him away when a plop of water lands on a coroner's report from a year ago. They're in Boston on reports of people with black eyes appearing here and there around town. Now, as Sam looks at the papers taken from the local authorities, it seemed like they were dealing with over ten of them. 

"You think it's the same one?" Dean suggests. "Swapping meat suits?"

Sam shrugs. "There's at least ten meat suits, then. Three of them have been seen together. I just... I dunno. I mean, look at these reports. Hundreds of deaths just over the last twenty years, and I'm honestly afraid to go further back than that. And more missing people than they have capacity for. Boston alone has more deaths and missing persons per capita than half the counties in the state, put together."

Dean sits down on the edge of his bed, brows furrowed. "You don't think Crowley would let his bitches-"

Sam, who wasn't listening, interrupts with a soft "That's weird..." and a frown. 

"What's weird?"

Sam frowns deeper and is quiet for a few more moments, flipping papers around, before he shakes his head and looks at Dean. "There was a huge spike in murders and missing persons about a year and a half ago... And then nothing. Everything stopped, and now it's back to normal. Well, I guess as normal as Boston apparently gets."

"Maybe Daddy downstairs got pissed at the size of their carbon footprint and slapped 'em around a bit. Why didn't we hear of this before?" Dean asks. 

"Well, see, that's the other thing. There's no demonic omens. No electric storms, not even flickering lights or sulfur deposits. It's all clean. Dean, I know this sounds crazy, but I don't think they're even demons."

"There's something off about this case," Dean says, opening a box of pie. 

"Tell me about it," Sam murmurs, continuing his search through the papers. 

ψ

Aiden Waite stands in his kitchen and frowns at the IV bag in his pale hands. The red liquid sloshes around as he squeezes it between his long fingers, before he pours half of it into a coffee mug. He shoves the mug in the microwave with an air of determination and waits out his time staring at every minuscule blemish in the familiar countertops. Sally materializes next to him as the microwave announces the ending of it's turn. She has a brilliant grin on her face, as usual. He pastes on one of his own, even though his mood has the same grey pallor as his skin. 

"Good morning, Grumpy," Sally greets him, seeing right through his facade. "Why the long face?"

"Nothing--"

Sally groans. "Ugh, Aiden will you please just tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't know," he half-whispers, putting a hand over his lips. "I just feel... like something awful is going to happen."

"Oh, Honey, but isn't that our life?" Sally asks rhetorically. 

Aiden laughs sarcastically and takes his mug out of the microwave. Josh comes stomping down the stairs as Aiden takes a seat at the table. Nora, presumably, is upstairs sleeping off her graveyard shift. Josh takes his own mug off of the rack and fills it with coffee. 

"Good morning," he says in a tone that could be deemed cheery or not. 

Aiden raises his mug in a small salute and Sally gives him a huge smile and returns his greeting. The doorbell rings just as he's about to sit down and he goes to answer it. A moment later he calls Aiden into the living room. Josh has invited two men into the room, one tall enough that he bows his head as he walks through the door, the other with bowlegs that may be partly the cause of the substantial size difference between the two, though he is still large in his own right. Eye color and general demeanor suggest some sort of family ties, though there is very distinct physical differences between the two, other than their size. The shorter is talking to Josh as Aiden enters, Sally on his heels. 

"-Dean and this is my associate Sam. We work for the newspaper. We're doing a story on the unsolved missing persons cases in Boston." He turns to Aiden. "Are you Aiden Waite?"

"Yes. Which missing persons?"

"A few of them, but we would like to start with James Bishop," Dean replies. 

"If that's okay with you," the big one adds in a soft, consoling voice. 

"And which newspaper did you say you work for again?" Josh asks, coming to his friend's defense. 

"Boston Tribune," Dean smiles a fake smile. 

"Listen, I really have to get to work," Aiden gestures at the scrubs he's wearing. "If we can talk later..."

"We only have a couple of questions," Sam says, determined. 

"Just a couple," Aiden concedes. 

"How did you know James?" he asks in that comforting voice. 

"Bishop was the closest thing I had to a father."

"Did he have any enemies?" 

"'Course. He was a snake."

"You didn't like him?"

"Not any more than he deserved from me."

"Can you think of anyone off the top of your head who would want to get rid of him?"

"Yeah, me. That man ruined my life. Is that all? We really have to go."

"If you think of anyone else, here's my card," Dean says, pulling a small rectangle of paper out of his pocket. 

Aiden thanks them, then ushers them past Josh and out the door. The three of them watch discreetly as the two men walk a few yards down the sidewalk and get in a long black car. It rumbles to life and disappears down the street. 

"Okay, that was weird," Sally says. "The short one was cute though. Did you see those lips?" She made a noise of lust in the back of her throat. 

ψ

Dean looks at Sam. He makes some small indications with his hands, mutely telling him to cover him left. Sam obeys, moving silently, a particularly impressive feat for someone his size. Dean follows equally as silently. 

They come up on Aiden slowly. They know he knows they're there, but none of them show it. Aiden blinks and his eyes turn black, his canines extending to graze his lower lip. Josh watches him with his jaw tense, unsure of what was going to happen and wishing that he could control his wolf. 

"So what are you," Aiden says. His eyes are on his best friend, but he's speaking to Sam and Dean. 

"We could ask you the same question," Dean replies gruffly. 

Aiden turns around to face Sam and Dean, and the brothers appraise his appearance like the professionals they are. They hide it pretty well, but they are startled by this seeming demon-vampire hybrid with wonky teeth. 

"I'm a vampire."

Dean laughs stiffly. "You're nothing like anything I've ever seen before, and we've fought gods."

Josh frowns. "What are you guys?"

"We're Hunters," Sam says, the demon knife restless in his hand. 

"Human Hunters," Aiden muses. "That have never seen a vampire."

"No, I assure you," Dean says, a rage pout distorting his mouth, "we've fought vampires. We've taken out more than our fair share of nests. You are not a vampire."

"Well then what is he?" Josh asks, the medical student in him curious. 

Sam shakes his head. "Nothing we've ever seen before." He takes a few tentative steps forward, equally as curious. "Nothing  about him matches up to any vampire we've ever seen. Except, you drink blood?"

Aiden opens his mouth to answer, but Josh interrupts. "He hasn't eaten live in a long time. A blood-borne disease wiped out most of the vampires."

Sam turns back to Dean. "You ever heard of a vampire catching a disease?"

Aiden raises a hand, "Now listen-"

"No," Dean interrupts. "Never."

"So then I guess the question is," Sam mutters, "is what are you really?"